A taste of Minos’s beast

by Jacked Garland   

Felix and his friend Orson drink some minotaur cum together. They know it can make you grow, but they get much, much more than they bargained for.

“I’ve got the goods, my dude.”

Orson had barely closed the door behind him before he procured a small plastic bag from his pocket and showed it off with the widest, and frankly stupidest grin on his face. Felix leaned against the kitchen counter and just raised an eyebrow at his friend.

“Have you now, ‘my dude’,” Felix said, putting extra emphasis on the last part. Orson was clearly in a silly mood, which usually meant some kind of shenanigans were going on. And that also meant that, whatever the ‘something’ was this time, it was bound to be intriguing.

Felix pushed off the counter with his hip and went to give Orson a hug. Felix was so glad whenever he received a hug from Orson. It was always with arms fully wrapped around him, a firm, comfortable squeeze, and always perfectly timed: not too long and not too short. It had none of the awkwardness of those short, rather limp side-hugs, or the insufferably impersonal three-taps-on-the-back. It was always so genuine and friendly, and so easy to reciprocate. Once in a while, usually if Felix was in a slightly mischievous mood, he would try an initiate a ‘squeeze-off’ with Orson, seeing which of them could hug the tightest before the other gave in. Whenever Felix won—which he did most of the time—Orson would always complain with ‘well it’s unfair since you’re taller than me’ (by like, a couple of centimeters) or ‘you started so you have the upper hand’ or ‘I wasn’t even ready!’. It was fun.

“So,” Felix said, letting go of Orson and walking back to the kitchen. The kettle clicked off and Felix poured the water into a teapot. “What are these ‘goods’ then?” he asked.

“So you do wanna know, huh?” Orson said. Felix was focused on pouring and didn’t look up.

“Of course,” Felix said. “But it better be good with all this stalling you’re doing’.” The kettle now empty, he put the little lid back on the teapot, waiting for the tea to steep. Orson was sitting on the sofa. He hadn’t opened the little bag yet, but just put it on the table in front of him.

“Come sit and I’ll show you,” Orson said, still grinning widely and practically jittering with excitement.

“Can’t you just tell me?” Felix asked. He sat himself down in the armchair, facing Orson, the table with the little plastic bag between them. Without saying a word, Orson made a show of rubbing his hands together and gingerly opening the bag. He took out a small, dark bottle. The glass was tinted brown, and it reminded Felix of those bottles with chemicals or medicine inside. It had no label on it, and neither did the plastic bag. Felix looked at Orson.

“Okay really, what is this?” He asked, not overly concerned, but still trying to pull Orson down from his hype. He didn’t succeed.

“You will not believe how easy it was to get this,” Orson said, picking up the bottle and staring at it like it was some mythical relic. “Like, it took a little bit of effort to get a link that worked, but after I got that, it was literally just click-and-buy.” He turned the bottle slowly from side to side, still mesmerized by it.

“I mean, it wasn’t cheap, of course, but that wasn’t really surprising,” he put the bottle back down on the table. “But it arrived much quicker than I thought.”

“Are you done?” Felix said. He leaned back, crossing his arms in a relaxed manner. “Or did you just come to deliver a suspicious bottle and an ominous speech?”

“It’s minotaur cum,” Orson said, excitement sparkling in his eyes.

“What?” Felix’ eyes went wide. He was unable to look away from Orson’s gaze. He wasn’t necessarily shocked or scared, just very surprised. This was far from anything he had expected. No wonder none of it was labeled. He briefly glanced back at the bottle, then back at Orson. Felix gave a small chuckle.

“Good one, Sunny,” he said. Surely this was a joke of some sorts. Either that, or Orson had been scammed. Minotaur cum wasn’t something to come by so easily. Was it?

“It’s not a joke, dude,” Orson said. “It’s the real deal!”

“I think you just got scammed, Sunny,” Felix said. “How would you know? Have you tasted it before?”

“I mean,” Orson began. “I haven’t... But that doesn’t mean it’s not authentic!”

From Orson’s expression it was clear to see that he hadn’t doubted anything about the whole ordeal until now. Had Orson been so excited by something like this that he would have recklessly thrown money at it? He had known Orson for years now, yet he had never seen him being interested in other genera before. At least not to a degree that would drive him to this. And then minotaur cum of all things.

Felix had heard what minotaur cum did to humans when they drank it. He was aware that much of it was very likely exaggerated as some sort of scare-tactic. But still, some of it was probably true or based in truth. Sure, he had heard of its revitalizing effects and how it stimulated muscle-growth in a way that was more natural than other substances. Though, ‘natural’ was doing some heavy lifting in that sentence; from what he had heard through gossip, the speed at which muscles grew when drinking minotaur cum did not at all sound ‘natural’ to him. Not natural, but that didn’t mean it was anything bad. Maybe, just maybe, it was even a little exciting? Being able to see muscles grow significantly in the span of a few days was intriguing. Felix also wondered what it would feel like. Would it hurt? He assumed that the fibers would tear if they grew too quickly, but he could be wrong. On the other hand, the idea of his body changing in more serious ways was much less appealing. The rumors of humans turning into something resembling a minotaur wasn’t exactly appealing. Not that Felix didn’t find minotaurs appealing, far from it if he were being honest, but still.

“All right,” Felix said. “Let’s say this is genuine minotaur cum.”

“Because it is,” Orson said, slightly defiantly.

“Sure,” Felix retorted. “Why have you brought it with you, then? Like, why are you showing me this?”

Orson stared at Felix. It was obvious the question had caught him slightly off guard. Just by asking it, Felix immediately knew the answer. Why would anyone bring something like this to one of their closest friends?

“I dunno,” Orson said, shrugging “It just seemed kind boring to do alone, I guess?”.

It was clearly an invitation. Orson was extending an invitation to share it. Felix was willing to share many things with his friend, but this was different. This wasn’t really something to be shared. Was it?

It wasn’t without risk, drinking minotaur cum, this much Felix knew for sure. But it wasn’t the risk of becoming more minotaur-like that deterred him. It was the idea of his body, his self becoming something else. And even if that didn’t happen, how would he control the growth, could he even control it? Not to mention the addictiveness. Minotaur cum was said to be incredibly addictive to humans. So if he did share this bottle—this little, seemingly innocent bottle—with Orson, would that be enough? Would a tiny amount like this be enough to drive him mad?

Felix felt blood rush toward his cheeks and his groin. He could stall his mind with thoughts of all the risks and dangers, but the thing that filled his thoughts was what it could do to his cock. It would grow, for sure, but how big? Was there even a limit? And how would it feel when it grew? Painful? Pleasurable? Something in between? Felix’ mind was invaded by images of his own cock growing as he was stroking it, his balls expanding as they filled up with incredible amounts of cum. Would that change as well? Maybe it would become thicker, milkier, tastier.

“Felix?” The sound of Orson’s voice pulled him back to reality. His cock was pushing so hard against the fabric of his underwear, Felix was afraid it would rip a seam. Trying to be as subtle as possible, he glanced down to see how visible it was. He wasn’t sure, so he just hoped Orson wouldn’t notice anything.

“Yeah?” He replied, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“You okay, buddy?” Orson said. Felix stared into Orson’s beady eyes. A look concern for a friend was the first thing Felix saw, but somehow it seemed to him as if they were pleading, begging. Orson’s expression seemed to say ‘tell me what to do, please’. But that was all in his mind. It was all in Felix’ mind. It had to be.

“Look,” Felix said. “I wanna make it clear that I really don’t believe this is real minotaur cum. I really think you just got scammed,”

“But?” Orson said.

“But,” Felix continue. “The easiest way to find out is just to open it up and taste it, right?”

Without even waiting for Orson to reply, Felix got up from the chair—quickly, so Orson wouldn’t notice his hard-on—and went toward the kitchen. He realized he had forgotten all about the tea, but that didn’t really matter anymore. He got a couple of shot-glasses and returned to the living room area. The bottle was small, so there couldn’t be much liquid in it. Besides, taking it as a shot seemed somehow right. Get it over with quick, or something.

With the two shot-glasses in front of them, Orson opened the bottle. Immediately, the whole room, probably the whole apartment, was filled with a heavy odor. Felix’ nose was assaulted by the smell: earthy and moist, it reminded him of the smell of a sauna. That is, if he had stuck his whole face in someone’s hairy armpit, absolutely drenched with sweat and sauna-steam, and then inhaled, filling his lungs with the smell. There was also this underlying sweet note that was difficult to describe. Felix could almost taste it, but only almost. It intrigued him, and he felt like he needed to know exactly what that sweetness was.

“Eugh!” Orson exclaimed loudly. “That smells fucking rank!” He pinched his nose and made a gagging noise as he quickly poured the liquid into the two shot-glasses and screwed the lid back on. He clearly wanted to get it over with as fast as possible. Felix was surprised by the liquid, it didn’t really look like cum to him. The consistency wasn’t goopy or gelatinous at all, and the color was more evenly white. More than anything, it reminded Felix of heavy whipping cream, if just a little thicker.

Felix and Orson each took their shot-glass of the strong-smelling minotaur cum. Orson was still pinching his nose, and now, bringing it closer to his face, he squinted his eyes, like when cutting onions. Felix looked at Orson, caught his gaze and raised his glass. Orson raised his as well, making a small clink sound as the glasses touched. Felix brought the glass to his lips, and in a smooth motion he threw his head back, letting the creamy liquid fall into and down his throat. As it touched his tongue he felt a shiver run across his whole body. Blood rushed from his extremities and toward his head and his crotch. He was still hard from before, but now he was leaking precum, although ‘leaking’ was probably an understatement, considering how fast the wet spot in his underwear was spreading.

Reflexively he stuck his tongue out to scoop up all the cum that clung to the sides of the shot-glass. The taste was incredible, and he just wanted more. Maybe there was some left in the bottle? He would probably have to water it down to get the rest out, but that was fine. Orson hadn’t seemed to like the smell, so maybe he didn’t like the taste either? If Orson didn’t drink it all Felix would happily drink the left-overs. Maybe Orson hadn’t even swallowed it, and if he was quick enough, he could just go over and get it from Orson’s mouth. He wouldn’t really be kissing him, he would just be doing him a favor, ridding him of the foul, foul liquid. It didn’t matter how, he just needed to get more.

And then the feeling began to fade away. Felix came back to his sense, somewhat at least, and saw Orson make a face, treating the minotaur cum like strong, cheap liquor. The smell still hung in the air, but even that had dissipated a lot since the bottle was opened. For a moment the whole apartment was silent, except for Orson continuously clearing his throat. Felix went and got water for both of them. Orson drank it eagerly.

“That was absolutely nasty,” Orson said after chugging his second tall glass of water. “I think you were right, this can’t possibly have been genuine. Tasted like sour milk, but like, ten-year-old sour milk, or something. I don’t even know, but it was fucking gross. Eugh!”

Felix just listened to Orson complain about the taste, and afterward, the smell. He didn’t voice any complaints himself. He didn’t really have any. The feelings already seemed so far away, but all of it had been incredible. Somewhere in his mind, he still heard a voice yelling ‘more! more!’, but it was distant and muffled now. It would go away before he knew it, he thought. However, he didn’t want to tell Orson just how intoxicating it had been. He felt a bit embarrassed about it, or perhaps guilty? Plus, with Orson complaining so much about it, it was difficult to admit to liking it. Maybe even loving it.

Neither of them discussed the event further, and just continued hanging out for the rest of the day. It wasn’t so much that they didn’t want to talk about it, but more that they didn’t really know how to talk about it. It was obvious to Felix that Orson had also had some kind of experience with it, but for all he knew, it wasn’t very good. And if so, he wondered, how bad would it have to have been for Orson to not want to talk about it at all? And if it were that bad, it might come off as somewhat insensitive toward him, if Felix were to go on and on about just how good, how right it had made him feel. Wouldn’t that put unnecessary pressure on Orson? Felix’ thoughts circled around like this in the back of his mind even after Orson had left. At last, Felix shrugged it off as something unimportant that didn’t change anything, really, and prepared for sleep.

But Felix couldn’t sleep. No matter how hard he tried, sleep just wouldn’t come. Every position was uncomfortable, and he felt feverishly hot, even though the thermometer kept telling him his body was fine. He had pushed the covers off a long time ago and opened the window as much as possible. Whatever cooling breeze entered the room felt amazing on his skin, which was rapidly becoming damp with sweat. He swore he could see steam faintly rising from his arm when he stuck it out the window. It wasn’t cold outside. It was late summer/early autumn, so evenings were getting cooler, but this was definitely out of the ordinary.

His breathing had started to become faster, trying to get rid of more heat, and tiny beads of sweat began to form on his body. Felix could feel each and every one of them. Whenever one got too heavy and began sliding down across his skin, it felt like the caress of someone’s finger. More and more beads formed and fell, and a myriad of hands were touching Felix all over. It was electrifying. He couldn’t get his underwear off too quickly, yanking it down and tossing it with one foot. He needed to give those sweat-drop hands access to all of him.

He had gotten hard quite a while ago, but hadn’t been able to concentrate on jerking off, let alone touch it. It throbbed aggressively, but his immediate attention was drawn to his slick skin. He joined in, sliding his hands across his body, feeling everything. He grabbed his chest, pressing in on his pecs, massaging them, giving his nipples a light pinch and twist. He took turns feeling up his arms, squeezing, flexing, tracing the curves and the shadowy lines cast by the musculature underneath the skin. He sat down, giving the same treatment to his legs, entranced by the hefty thighs and cupping the round calves.

He laid down, letting his hands glide up towards his head. With his fingertips he touched his neck and face, like he was exploring it for the first time. He mapped every bone, every hair, every wrinkle. He smiled, he frowned, each time feeling which exact muscles were contracting or relaxing. He savored every second that passed as he groped his own body. Satisfied for now, he looked down, unable to ignore his cock any longer.

The amount of precum he was leaking was quite a surprise to Felix. Of course, it was a much welcome surprise. When he laid down, a small pool had begun to form right above his crotch. The tiny pool had overflown a bit, and a thin stream had made its way over the side of his hip. Slowly, but steadily it pooled on the sheet, clinging to his side. With two fingers he touched the precum-pool. It was clear like water, so he was surprised at how sticky it was. As he withdrew his hand, a long string of precum formed. Felix was pulling the string up toward his face, and the string kept holding, but drooped in the middle, reaching for his stomach.

His cock kept leaking, the pool of precum growing larger and thus overflowing even more. Without hesitation, he grabbed some with his fingers and stuffed them into his mouth. His tongue was struck with such sweetness he almost thought he had eaten a spoonful of honey or sugar-syrup. Of course, it wasn’t either of those, it was much better. For once he wished he had been more flexible so he could suck this delicious nectar directly from the source. He made a mental note of doing more yoga, in case this wasn’t just a one-time occurrence.

Felix closed his eyes and his mind filled with images of himself. He was sucking his own cock; he was sucking the cock of a separate version of himself, a doppelganger, a clone perhaps; he was bending back, letting his entire face be covered in precum; he was collecting the precum in jars and filling bathtubs with it. He opened his eyes, looked down and saw the mess he was making. He didn’t care. He wrapped his hand around his cock (was it bigger than before?) and started stroking. The copious amount of precum served as the perfect lube. With his other hand he reached for his balls and began to massage them gently. They felt large and heavy and full, which made sense given the present circumstance. There was a certain tightness, like whatever liquid inside was pushing against the walls containing it. It didn’t hurt, Felix thought, but felt good. Really good.

The tightness grew stronger, and before Felix noticed, he was shooting his cum all across his body. The first time he hit his face he felt the orgasmic wave crashing, and every single muscle began a cycle of tension and release. Even if he wanted to, he was fully unable to hold his moaning in. Arching his back, throwing his head backwards, hitting the soft mattress, Felix felt like he was screaming. Every exhale became a moan of deep pleasure, only quenched when some of his cum landed in his open mouth, forcing him to swallow it so as not to choke on it.

And then orgasm dissipated, leaving Felix out of breath and wet with sweat and cum. He just stared at the ceiling, trying to process what had just happened. It felt like hours had gone by, but looking at the clock he saw that not even half an hour had passed from when he got up to open the window.

Felix knew exactly what had happened and why it had happened, but he was in no position to even begin facing it. He just couldn’t. And so, after calming down and catching his breath, he cleared his mind and dealt with the practicalities caused by his intense session. First things first was the bed. He removed the sheets to assess the mattress itself. It had some wet patches, but perhaps due to the dense nature of the liquids, they hadn’t really soaked through very much. Still, he made attempts at drying it. The collected sheets were thrown in the laundry basked. Felix then went to the bathroom and took a long shower, cleaning of the various fluids.

His mind still deliberately empty, Felix put new sheets on the bed and laid down again, hoping sleep would catch him and relieve him of any residual or lingering tension. And sleep did catch him. Barely had his head hit the pillow before he was whisked away into a dream. But even though it caught him, it provided no relief for Felix. Instead, it gave him a dream that would change him and his life’s trajectory. Felix would not realize this for a long time, but this was not even the beginning, far from it.

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