The Minotaur's Curse

In Grimwood, tribute was as much a part of life as birth and death. Mothers willing gave up their sons. Husbands bid farewell to their brides. Their names were remembered and honored at a meager feast each year, but once they went beyond the wall we forgot them. This made things easier.

The wall served many purposes, but chiefly it kept out the monsters. Wolves and lions, yes, but also much more terrible things, including men. The walls were kept as a reward for tribute. Stonemasons of great craft would arrive to bolster our defenses. Guardsmen from other lands would take position along the wall, but never spoke of where they came from. Three worlds stacked on top of one another, Grimwood, the wall, and the beyond, never to meet, except on one day. The sky in the west would fill with smoke and fire and tribute would begin.

Tributes were selected by a lottery of every name of every person in the village of Grimwood. For as far back as anyone could remember or find in a history book, it did not seem to matter who was sent for tribute, a child a three or a grandfather of ninety years. Yet, it did matter how the person was chosen. The drawing must include every person without exception and none may volunteer.

Once, when my father was just a young boy, one of the village elders attempted to take the place of his daughter. He went to the gate in the wall and announced himself as tribute. The guards, with their cold eyes gleaming from behind black armor, turned their backs on him and fires in the west worsened. Twice more the elder attempted to submit himself, and on his third attempt the thunder in the west grew so powerful that the wall began to crack. Finally, the man submitted and released his daughter. She vanished beyond the wall and a team of workers arrived the next week to repair the damage.

When my name was selected, my family was devastated. We gathered in the village square and the elders solemnly chose a number from a large wicker basket. The number matched a name on the town register where each person was added at the moment of their birth and crossed out at the moment of their death. For those selected for tribute, they were not crossed out, but given a small notation, usually a symbol of their life. When the elders asked what I would like beside my name, in my shock I told them, "I go the wolves, you may mark me as a sheep."

From the time of selection, a tribute was allowed roughly a week to remain in the village without consequence. The great storm in the west would remain, but it would not worsen and the guards would keep their watch on the wild rather than peering down into Grimwood. This was a time when I learned what a ghost must feel like. The general population of the village regarded me as a doomed saint, constantly offering a combination of gratitude and apology. My family could not bear to look at me from grief. As my final week went on, I realized that my presence was doing more harm than good.

I gathered my belongings. Though no one knew what happened to the people who went beyond the wall, it was expected that some type of journey would follow. These beliefs were rooted in the way that the mason or guards would come from a distant land carrying packs of provisions. I did not believe this it to be so benign, but I packed a second dress, a tunic, and some riding trousers. The village always offered their food, but I did not take it. If I was going to my death, I would not see those I left behind starve. Instead, I gathered my small portion which would have been served to me that night by a dutiful mother. The village gathered at the interior gates to watch me go. Some held candles, some wept, and a few sang songs. I walked through the interior gate as they watched, and I did not turn around as the old timbers swung shut behind me.

Before me stood the gate to the outside world. This gate was never passed by any Grimwood citizen with an expectation of returning. While the interior was made of old wood and metal bolts, the exterior wall was made of solid iron. They did not swing open, but a small door in the wall did, revealing a passage to the wood beyond. I went through.

As I emerged, I saw a thick wood, dark and ominous, but directly in front of the door was a road. Waiting on that road was a black coach with dark curtains. A black horse pawed light at the ground and flicked its head as I walked forward. I looked around for a driver, but saw no one. From my position, I could not even see the ramparts where the guards kept watch. A sudden urge to run came over me. I could disappear into the trees and perhaps find my way to another town. The horse flicked its head again and I knew I had no real choice. I climbed into the coach and shut the door behind me.

The moment I was inside, the coach jumped into motion. It built speed rapidly and I pushed aside the black curtains to watch the wood rush past. The carriage drove on for hours, taking me deeper and deeper into the forest. The road did not curve and it passed no other villages. The only change I saw for hours was the wall and Grimwood disappearing behind me. Finally, as the sun set, I saw a castle illuminated by the orange glow. As I grew nearer, I saw that the castle was as dark as the forest and seemed to be a part of it with trees, brush, and vines conquering the structures. The coach clattered across the drawbridge and I heard a groan of old gears as an unseen device raised the bridge behind me. In moments, the carriage stopped in front of a door and did not move any further.

Tentatively, I exited the coach. As I touched the ground, the horse immediately started up again and trotted off towards a stable. Seeing no other options, and with the chill of night closing in, I entered the castle.

The interior looked the same as the exterior, long vacant and unkempt. A candle had been placed on a table just inside. I picked it up and started to venture further into the dark building. As I walked, I started to hear a noise, faint at first but growing stronger as I approached the heart of my new home.

A voice, deep and booming, "I see my guest has arrived. Come closer. Come to warmth of the fire."

As I neared the central ballroom, I no longer needed the candle. Bright light spilled out of a doorway along with a curling stream of smoke. I saw no reason to be overcome by fear now, after coming so far. I put my candle and stepped forward boldly into the light.

The sight made me gasp and stagger backwards. I wanted to hide, to run screaming for safety. In the center of the ballroom, seated in a large wing back chair was a minotaur.

I had heard tales of such creatures mentioned in whispers over dying campfire embers, but they had all failed to describe the true thing. He was enormous, more than twice my size. In many ways he resembled a man, although a man like I had never seen before. The beast had a broad chest, covered in shaggy well groomed fur. I could see his muscular form beneath his coat, his arms as big around as timbers and likely able to snap me in half. The legs ended in hooves, but his hands were human with thick digits and dark nails long enough to be considered claws. I knew he was a male not by the sound of his voice, but from the fact that he wore only a small loin cloth. I could see his thick manhood as plain as anything and he showed no embarrassment for his exposure, but then again, he was a beast and a beast not accustomed to guests at that. There the resemblance to a human ended. The creature's head was that of a bull, no different than those I had seen all my life grazing in fields. Except perhaps, they eyes. They were cunning and showed an intelligence sharper than most men.

"What has luck brought me this time?" the bull boomed. "A pretty little thing, but hardly a morsel. What is its name?"

Having never before conversed with a minotaur, or very much believed in their existence for that matter, I did not know what other to do than reply plainly, "I am Leigh of Grimwood. I have been sent as tribute."

The beast growled and I did not know if it was out of anger or amusement, "Are you frightened, Leigh of Grimwood." The beast's lips peeled back in a wicked grin, showing broad flat teeth. I did not know what minotaur ate, but it was clearly not grass.

"Who would stand in front of a creature such as you without fear?" I asked. Though I did not realize it until that moment, my fear had evaporated. My time as a ghost in Grimwood had taught me quickly that dead women do not fear their executioner.

"Wisely said," the creature boomed. "And you have no reason to fear me. You are but my guest tonight. I am not the one who summons willing slaves, but another trapped soul like yourself. In the morning, you will continue your journey from here, traveling east to the Black Prince's lands."

I did not feel relieved, "And what will happen to me after that?"

The minotaur's eyes widened and I thought I detected a hint of sadness, "I do not know. They do not come back. Leigh of Grimwood, I often look forward to the travelers, but you have come on a strange night. You will find comfortable quarters by following the lights." As he spoke, a series of candles sprung to life, illuminating a corridor. "Rest there for tonight, as you have a longer journey tomorrow. Once you are in your room, lock the door, and do not come out."

I wanted to ask why, but the wistful look in the beast's eyes made me think otherwise. "I do not know your name," was my reply.

The monster held up his head in noble pose, "I am Alaric. Sleep well, Leigh."

I bowed, assuming that was proper etiquette for such a situation, and backed out of the room. After following the trail of lights, I arrived at a small apartment. A roaring fire held back the chill and a soft bed, softer than any I had ever slept in, awaited. A large tray of food and drink was provided for me, as well as a hot bath. I could not believe the splendor of it all, nor did I understand what unseen force had prepared it.

I ate my fill and then took a bath. Dipping my foot into the water, I found it pleasantly and perfectly warm. Eagerly, I sunk my whole body into the iron tub, relishing the feeling of the warm water on my smooth, bare skin. I scrubbed and washed myself, assuming this would be my last opportunity for a while, perhaps forever. Emerging from the bath a new, refreshed woman, I wrapped myself in a soft robe and moved over to the bed, ready to fall asleep.

A roar stopped me in my tracks. I did not know much of the sounds of beasts, but I could tell it was not a roar of anger or fear, but of pain. I remembered my host's warning, but I also remembered the look of pity in his eyes when he mentioned my journey on the morrow. Again, I realized that a ghost need not obey rules. Wrapping my robe tightly around my naked body, I picked up a candle and left my room headed back towards the source of the noise.

The roars continued as I moved down the corridor toward the main ballroom, but they changed the further I went. By the time I reached the edge of the ballroom's warm light, they were no longer the roars of a monster, but the screams of a man. Peaking around the corner, I expected to see Alaric wounded and some new intruder gored by the monster's horns.

The fire and the chair remained, but Alaric was gone, mostly. In the center of the room, a large figure contorted and wailed. Bones snapped and realigned as cloven hooves became human feet. The fur fell off him in tufts, piling up on the floor and rapidly turning to ash. His bovine face changed, the snout retreating back into the normal curve of a nose, but the horns remained. He had shrunk, but only slightly, maintaining the body of a powerful man.

A tail I had not noticed earlier, long and thin, whipped violently from side to side as Alaric convulsed. Like the horns, the tail seemed determined to remain, another vestige of whatever curse lay upon him. Between his legs, his cock was entirely unchanged, but more visible now. It was thick and long, and I found myself drawn to it.

With a final groan, the transformed man collapsed into the center of the room, his body glowing in the candlelight from a sheen of sweat. Worried, and with no thoughts of my own safety, I hurried over to him.

I placed my hand on his back, admiring the broad expanse of muscle and sinew. His skin was warm to the touch, almost enough to burn me, but certainly enough to snatch my hand away in surprise. I rolled him over to his back and looked down at Alaric the man rather than Alaric the beast. Gently placing my hand on his chest, I felt the rapid thump of his heartbeat. Being so close to him, I could smell a strange earthy spice which I had never encountered before. Looking up at his face, I was struck by how handsome he was.

His eyes opened and they were same, piercing and intelligent, "Leigh? What are you doing here? I instructed you not to leave your room."

I sat back on my heels, surprised at his outburst. As he moved to sit up, I once again caught sight of his bulging genitals. I became very conscious of my own nakedness underneath the robe. "I heard screaming. I wanted to see what happened."

"Go back to your room. It is not safe." Alaric realized he was naked and made a feeble attempt to cover himself with his hands, the loin cloth having fallen away as he changed.

I had no desire to leave Alaric and I saw no reason to either. Surely as a man he was less dangerous to me than ever, horns or not. A new thought occurred to me, "You say you don't know what happens to me when I leave here tomorrow? But you talk of a Black Prince. What do you know of him?"

Alaric glared at me, "The Black Prince is the reason I go through this torment. He cursed me and trapped me in this castle as a guard dog for his slave farms."

"And tomorrow, I will get back in that carriage to ride off to certain death or slavery. Isn't that right?" Alaric did not answer. "Then I will spend my last night of freedom how I choose. If you are kind at heart, you will not send me away to a sleepless night dreading the morning."

Alaric took a while to consider my words. I used this time to rake my eyes over his body once more. I had seen shirtless men in the village, and I had admired some of the other young men. This was not a sight I had ever seen. Alaric was fit and well toned, the body of a well fed warrior. "Very well, but I think you will find me poor company."

"I disagree," I said as he swiveled into a crossed legged position, still attempting to cover himself. I could see his manhood, but I did not want him to catch me staring. "I have another request. For my time in Grimwood, I was saving myself for marriage, but now I could die tomorrow. If you would have me, I would like to be with a man."

Alaric did not respond, but I saw that my words had their effect. Slowly, I opened my robe and let it fall from my shoulders. His eyes went to my breasts, so pale and white compared to his dark skin. Alaric stared at my naked chest, but did not move, though his swelling member betrayed his desire. "You do not know what you are asking," he growled.

"Do you not find me appealing," I asked, feigning insult.

"The curse that binds me here," he explained, "is not only the form a beast. I am doomed to not know the love of a woman until the Black Prince dies."

"I see nothing that stops it," I insisted. "I do not find you monstrous."

"And in the morning?" he growled, resentfully. "When the sun rises again, my bones will break and my skin will tear as I become once more the creature of children's nightmares. And you know nothing of me. Alaric the man or Alaric the monster, both carry their sins. Go down below and see for yourself, there you will find the bones of a hundred years. Many of your kind have come here and many were not so kind as you. They thought me some challenge and sought to slay me. I would have welcomed death, but I cannot die, only suffer. As a monster, my patience is thin and I have snapped the necks of more than a hundred weary travelers."

The man's tale sadden me, but I did see any fault in him. "It is the curse," I said. "Only that. In the morning, I will kiss your cheek, though it be that of a bull. I must go on anyway, but I will go on carrying love for both Alaric the man and Alaric the monster. We have damnation in common."

His face softened and he looked once more at my bare chest. Sensing his desire, I pulled away the rest of the robe, letting it fall around me like a blanket. My naked body fully revealed, Alaric's face darkened once more. "The curse has other thorns," he said. "I fear that if we were together, I would harm you."

I saw some truth in this doubt as his cock started to rise. I knew that a man would swell when excited, but I thought that Alaric's girth would not change. I was mistaken. As his eyes surveyed my naked body, his cock rose to its full length, almost a foot long and as wide as my wrist. My body was flushed by the sight of it and, wanting to no protests, I moved over to him and placed my hand on his swollen manhood. He let out a seething breath of anticipation. I still sensed doubt in him, but he was but a man, after all, and weak to his own desires. In his mind, I am certain that having me touch him was enough pleasure, should all else prove impossible.

Alaric pulled me to him and I met him gladly in a kiss. His tongue explored my mouth, probing and teasing at my own until I reciprocated. Pulling out of the kiss, his mouth trailed down my neck, leaving light sensations of wet warmth wherever his lips touched. I gasped as his lips closed around my nipple, his tongue lovingly stroking the tiny bud.

His hands were not idle, roving over my virgin body, caressing and stroking my smooth skin. As his hand reach my bottom, he grew greedy, taking as much of the flesh into his hands as he could. The thick rod of his cock pressed against my thigh as we pushed our bodies together and I felt a sticky wetness on my thigh where it moved. My hand wrapped around the thick appendage, instinctively I began to stroke it up and down. As I did, more of his precum oozed from the tip and I smeared it along my thighs. The feeling of my flesh rubbing against his made him grunt and pull me into a harder kiss. I knew that he wanted more than anything to be inside of me, but he would tear me apart. I considered another way to pleasure him.

I had heard the women in the village talk about it before, but I imagine they faced the task without certain obstacles. Pulling away from Alaric's mouth, I moved down his body. My hand pressed against his chest, urging him to lie back against my discarded robe. His thick cock stood up before me, my hand continuously stroking up and down the length. I lowered my head to shaft and teasingly stuck out my tongue, running it up the side of him. Alaric groaned and I was encouraged. I flattened my tongue and lowered my head further to base of his cock. Ever so slowly, I pressed my wet tongue against him and slid it up the whole length of his shaft. Reaching the top, I flicked a bit of the clear fluid into my mouth and marveled at the taste. Was this a man's seed? Eager for more of the peculiar liquid, I opened my mouth wide and closed my lips around the top of his cock.

The thick head fit snugly into my mouth. More and more of the precum poured into my waiting mouth, quickly swallowed down my throat as I labored to fit as much of his length in my lips as possible. Alaric's groans had started to show a hint of frustration to them. I wanted to sheath his whole length in me, but it would be too much.

I had not expected to feel pleasure from the action other than the excitement of pleasing Alaric. My thighs were wet with arousal, but a new sensation was building in my body. It was confined originally to my stomach, but was rapidly spreading to the tips of my limbs. A bigger glob of the precum oozed into my mouth and I swallowed it down immediately. A moment after, I felt pressure in the top of my head. With a slightly painful tearing feeling, I felt a new weight on the top of my head. "Oh, no," Alaric whispered, his cock slightly softening in my hand.