Chapter 4 - Of Milk and Minotaurs

On a cold fall night, in a secluded tavern.

The "Mare's Leg" Inn was a second-rate lodge that rested just along the Western Roads, an oft considered lawless region of the Central Plains. Usually, it served as the sole source of refuge on the outer territories of Uthandor, casually frequented by errant knights and their glory-seeking ilk. 

But how things had changed, as these days, the already struggling establishment saw fewer and fewer patrons pass through its doors. The Red Terror, Ucalanath, had frightened half of its frequenters and pushed the others into service against him. It was rare the Mare's Leg saw anyone these nights, except for this one. 

Two cloaked figures convened across from another at a single counter, any distinguishing features hidden by their thick robes. They were the inn's only patrons and barring the lodge's owner, a half-dwarf named Balo, they were the only souls that stirred about at this hour. 

"Why do we convene now?" One voice, distinctly feminine, asked in a monotone yet slightly aggravated temper. 

"In these times? I would usually keep my distance from your knife-eared ilk, but desperate times, as they say?" The other figure replied. His voice was gruff and scratchy; aggravation also apparent in his sarcastic inflections. "But, there is something I wish to share with you, something I thought you'd find quite invaluable to your cause."

The female shifted in her old wooden stool before leaning over the table, "Go on." Had it not been for their long-held arrangement, she'd have long slit this toying fool's throat.

"It appears a stray wolf has left his den." The words oozed amusement, and this was not lost upon his companion. "Wandering the world without protection."

"They oft leave that damnable place, what else is new? For one or two to slip into the kingdom is common, and killing a lone wolf isn't my business. For as much as I hate to admit it, their ability in combat is exceptional; I'd sacrifice three of mine for one of their own, and for what gain?" Had he truly wasted her time with such trivial information?

"Ah, but it is not just any ragged mutt," the enigmatic figure leaned back, delaying the reveal for his own self-indulgent satisfaction. "The Pup." Behind the darkness of his black hood, a twisted grin began to form on the stranger's face. 

There was a prolonged silence.

Now he'd gotten her attention. The robed woman's movements were cold and robotic as if something had awakened within her. With a slow yet fluid motion, she removed her large hood. Precious silver strands of hair fell down her shoulders, and as she parted them from her face, a single violet eye stared across the table. The other, scarred and milky white. "Where is he now." 

---

Draynor wasn't unlike most other villages, hosting a sizable population of day laborers and fishermen, straightforward people with simple dreams. They worshipped a range of pantheons, celebrated the same holidays as other municipalities, and for the most part, had a handle on the law. Fortunately, depending on who you asked, there was one aspect of the usually idyllic coastal settlement that set it apart from the rest. 

Draynor served as an open port for a great gambit of pirates, sailors, and those that fancied themselves sea-farers. As long ago, a treaty was struck between the districts of Uthandor's Eastern Coast and the enigmatic government of the Eastern Isles just across the Grey Ocean. It was formed primarily for hospitality's sake, in a time when the seas were fraught with lawless thieves who lacked the wherewithal or sense to abide by any code of conduct. Ports such as Draynor's served as free refuges for those that abided by the rule of "Maritime Peace." 

Maritime Peace, in simple terms, meant don't destroy or raid the coastal ports that sustain our economies. 

The convention didn't sit well with various humanoid and inhuman privateers, but over time this particular bunch was phased out by those who didn't wish to face the full naval might of either government. 

Thus, Draynor and several other towns were considered safe harbors for all manner of strange and bizarre individuals. The new ruling didn't exonerate them from the administrative force of Uthandor but did encourage good behavior for the sake of trade and employment.

All of this to say that Draynor had become an incredibly diverse town over several decades. Races that were generally considered "monstrous" had found an unparalleled sense of security within the boundaries of the charming village. Access not being an issue, sentient creatures from all across Uthandor, and the Eastern Isles congregated. Seemingly alien cultures and lifestyles began to merge into a unique but hospitable way of life in time. 

It wasn't long before rare cases of half-monster races began to settle the outskirts of Draynor, and after a brief period of unrest, the townspeople came to accept or, at the very least, tolerate their existence. 

---

Auron had made his way through the nearby forestlands, just east of his Uncle's subterranean realm. He'd left with quite a lot on his mind, albeit his balls a bit drained. 

The exile's malleable moral compass had long been sent for a spin, and while he'd never envisioned himself a hero of any sort, he dreaded what he was becoming. 

In truth? His actions had been unbecoming since he'd left Yaz several months ago. He thought he'd learned something in the time that he'd spent with, and inside, or her. He'd found peace in that tiny cottage they'd built together, but apparently, that hadn't been enough. 

From his betrayal of the Yharghest adventurers, refusing to make any attempt to save Reyna, to the brief time with his Uncle and everything surrounding that. If there was evil in the world, then that was it, and he didn't like the taste that it'd left in his mouth. 

---

The sun was beginning to rise as he broke through the treeline, casting a thin veil of sunshine over the settlement, not a hundred yards away from him; Draynor. 

In preparation for his departure, Uncle Illithid had told him of Draynor and its peoples. Apparently, it was the safest place for a traveler as of late, given that due to its population makeup, both the Followers of Ucalanath and Uthandor's Military had left the town alone for the time being. Perhaps there were quirks to hosting beast races?

They were uncomplicated and hardworking people who wouldn't care much about the nature of his newly formed arm. Nonetheless, he'd done well to secure it in a layer of thick bandages. As truthfully, he was more ashamed of it than anyone else would be. The unnatural, beastly nature of his new appendage still didn't sit well with him. Deep down, he could tell that something was off and that the blood that flowed through this dragon-like appendage wasn't entirely his own.

His Uncle's advice? Lay low, find and speak with the Dock Master about ferrying a ship to the Eastern Isle of Ikayai and make contact with a "guildmember" at the Ebony Blade tavern. He didn't know who this "guildmember" was, but the Mindflayer had made many connections across the continents of Aereth over nearly a century. It was a small favor to assist his beloved nephew. The plan was simple, and with the bit of silver he'd given him, things could go smoothly; keyword, could. 

Auron draped the thin hood of his new cloak over his head before making way to the village's main gate. 

---

The cobblestone streets that ran through Draynor were packed with people lost in their daily routines. Wooden houses and cabins lined each of the wide roads, varying in construction and arrangement. The echoing voices of friends, neighbors, and traveling associates filled the busy settlement in a symphony of discourse. As amicable as things seemed, it was a settlement that was only twenty miles removed from bloody conflict, yet the people seemed entirely unconcerned. 

In roaming about the town's roads for half an hour, Auron had seen all manner of unknown species and peoples. Four-foot tall mouse-like humanoids, beefy men with fish-like gills and smooth cerulean skin, and even a friendly looking chap with the antennae of a giant moth all went about their trade. To the commoners of Draynor, such sights were everyday banalities, but to an outsider, the novel unlikeness could be overwhelming at times.

 It was all an exotic sight to the young swordsman, who, in all honesty, had very few points of reference when it came to civilization.

Yharghest had been a backwater hamlet that's most prominent hallmark was its single drinking hole rather than its success. The underground desmesne of his Uncle's lordship was more of a polished prison than a town of any sort. The village of orcs was incomparable by various standards, and finally, his home-- 

He hesitated at the thought. Where was his home really? The small yet wholesome refuge he'd built with the quirky, lovable she-goblin? Or the iniquitous and impregnable fortress of his forefathers? 

The confusing stream of thoughts was sharply interrupted as a hurried merchant pushing an overloaded wheelbarrow slammed into the meandering traveler. 

Several bystanders were knocked down in the collision, but poor Auron and the barrows pusher received the full force of it. Cloak and all, Auron tumbled to the stone street while being drenched in a spattering of foul-smelling water. "By the Great Wolf!" He stammered as he began to shakily find his footing. 

There went laying low.

The "water" was actually a mixture of sea brine and the excess moisture stored in freshly caught fish. It was an aroma that stung the nostrils and would take a great deal of scrubbing to get out, especially from a beautiful cloak such as his. Auron nearly cursed the heavens as he rose, some of his newfound temper urging him to draw one of the two longswords that clung to his belt. 

But this thought was quickly brushed aside as he gazed upon the merchant who he collided with. 

Hauling the fresh catch was an intimidating shark-man, standing roughly a foot taller than the already 6'3" human. His leathery skin was as blue as the sea, and two dark, seemingly emotionless eyes were located near the sides of his head. What did have emotion were the rows of serrated teeth that gnashed about as he snarled. 

"You detestable outsiders can't watch yer' damn path, can ya!?" 

Each word was choppy and guttural as if his lungs were full of water; razor-like teeth flashed up and down. 

Still surprised by the alien nature of the fish merchant, Auron didn't have much to say besides mumbling a few half words. 

A, "My apologies...", found its way into the mix. 

The berating didn't stop there, and now a small group of onlookers had gathered. Some sympathetic to the aloof traveler, others to the local fishmonger. Nonetheless, no one dared interfere in the quarrel. 

"I should call the guards! Yes, they'll make you pay at an extended rate!" The shark-man had forgotten all about the fish, actually squishing a few as he began to approach Auron in a disgruntled manner. "Or, if you were in the ocean...I wonder how fast you swim?" 

Pitch black orbs glimmered in animalistic thought, and despite the civilized nature of this clearly sentient merchant, he harbored much more carnivorous ideations. 

Such threats were not made idly in the Central Plains. Auron reflexively reaching for the hilt of Amara. 

Had he been conflicted with his recent actions? Yes, but he'd be damned if some commoner would make a coward of him. A quick two strokes and-

There was a blur, and before an altercation could break out, an unforeseen third party leaped into the fray. "Now, now, no need for that." An elven man appeared between the men as quickly as he spoke, and contrary to the apparent tension, there was a light air about him. 

No one could possibly be that fast, both human and shark-man thought in agreement, but it was so. This lithe stranger sported pointed ears and wore little more than a dusty sleeveless gi; a large, sloshing gourd hung from his hip. He gave a small smirk to both parties and began to assure the growing audience that there was nothing to see. 

The merchant grumbled before beginning to recollect his bounty; his eyes relaxed. "Damn you, Elios."

---

After the spill had been cleaned up and folks began to resume the activities, the stranger stayed a while longer as Auron finished gathering himself. 

"Thank you," Auron muttered as he gave himself a final once over, still reeking of fresh fish water. His day was off to a rocky start. "It was Elios, wasn't it?"

The half-elf smiled and shook his bald head slightly, "Elios is quite formal, I fear I only hear it when I'm in trouble, or... in trouble." He was shorter than Auron, which didn't say much, standing around 5'9". From what the young man could tell, he didn't weigh much either, but the tonnage of his exposed arms and the slight exposure of figure through his garments showed immense strength. "Most call me, El. Old Shaskkar, the merchant, is always in a foul spirit. Forgive him, and you? Er, man-with-two-swords?"

"Urie- Auron." It didn't feel right to hide behind that name anymore. "Auron Reth." El paused and thought the title over. "A pleasure, Auron Reth, blessings upon you." The half-elf replied as he extended his hand in a shake. 

Auron returned the gesture, happy to know that there was some hospitality in Draynor. 

Without warning, His newfound acquaintance's face began to reflexively sour. "Sorry, my friend, but I fear there is a particular odor abut you." Auron couldn't blame El, as the even he could hardly stand the smell. Plus, his cloak and bandages had done well to soak up much of the initial splash. He lamented in this, "Forgive me."

Fearing that he may have upset a potential friend, El quickly lept to action. "Fear not! I know of a lovely dame who can wash the stink out of an oil-hound."

"Oil-hound?" Auron raised an eyebrow. 

"You don't know what an oil-hound is, agh, nevermind!" Interesting. Elios waved his hands to dismiss his previous question, "let's get you cleaned up." He almost threw an arm around Auron's shoulder but stopping himself midway, wary not to catch his odor. 

The two made a bit of conversation as they walked, trying to get a better feel for one another. 

"So, you're a monk?" Auron tried to wrap his head around the concept. "Essentially, more so a traveler than anything else." the half-elf replied casually. 

"You have quite the build for a monk, does one get that from prayer?" Auron only knew of monks in the first place because the Black Wolves had raided many a monastery; he'd even been gifted some artwork from their plunder. 

Elios laughed, "No, one does not get this physique from prayer, Auron Reth." The young man didn't believe him. "This is purely practice."

After some time, the two men approached a fine-looking stone building with two stories and a set of brilliant open windows on the second floor. Auron swore that he could hear faint humming coming from within. A simple signpost marked its front door: Jen's Mending and Washing Services. 
 
Auron hesitated for a brief moment before entering, that's a straightforward name. After all, most establishments in Aereth had extremely cryptic or whimsical names. The Ragged Flagon, The Silken Mistress Embroidery, and so on and so forth. 

In a more practical sense, some of his hesitations stemmed from the nature of his newfound friend. A strange man with incredible reflexes who'd quickly come to his aid and now had shown him this hospitality, for what reason? It was all too quick for the exile. 

Before entering, Auron stopped El, "Why are you helping me?" His eyebrows wrinkled in an almost habitual skepticism. It was hard to be trusting when he, himself, had been the betrayer once. 

El's own eyebrows raised in confusion; was this a trick. "Because, you, erm...smell?" The honest expression on his dumbstruck face was too pure to be fraudulent. Then again, what did Auron know? 

He let out a slight chuckle and shook his head, "Aye, I do. Thank you."

---

As the two entered, a soft chime struck. Jen's Mending and Washing Services was just that, an unusually spacious laundromat filled with sudsy water buckets and racks of numerous garments left out to dry. At first glance, the interior was in an utter state of disrepair, with its leaky floorboards and mounds of stained apparel scattered about the first floor. Sponges and wash rags haphazardly hung from the same lines as some of the clothing. 

El made sure to reassure his companion of the owner's diligence in her service, but Auron persisted in scrutinously scanning the room. Who ran such an establishment? 

"H-Hello?" A bashful voice called from the top of the staircase at the end of the main chamber. "Hey, Jen," Elios casually called as he tiptoed over trails of discarded clothing, "have a minute?"

"Maybe. I saw you brought a friend." It was almost a whisper, a miracle that either man heard it really. 

"He won't bite!" Elios was trying his best to coax her down. He leaned over and whispered in Auron's ear, "You don't bite, right?" 

His new friend simply rolled his eyes. 

"Ok." Jen, presumably the sole proprietor of the laundromat, made her descent, and her appearance definitely didn't match her voice. The woman was massive, almost seven feet tall, with the proportions of a-- well, there weren't quite words for it. Her hourglass figure was virtually unbelievable, with an extremely wide hip to waist ratio and an inhumanly large set of bouncing breasts. She wore what would've been a normal-sized apron for a human, but for her, it was drastically undersized for. It only served to accentuate her incredibly busty torso; puffy nipples nearly poked through the fabric. Finally, she wore a small, round set of spectacles, and medium length hair was loosely tied into a disheveled bun atop her noggin; a pair of short horns peeked through her hair.

Auron struggled to keep his attention on anything wholesome, almost gawking at her extremely fertile body. To Elios, it was any other day. 

It wasn't as though she wasn't aware of her long list of assets, and as she made her way down was as red as a beet; pale white skin red as a beet. Jen blushed, "I think your friend is, staring," and stopped midway. 

El glanced at Auron and then back at the cleaner before apologizing, "Ah! Forgive Auron, he's probably never seen a half-minotaur before! He's from out of town!" Concepts like embarrassment seemed to go over the graceful half-elf's head. 

Collecting himself, Auron turned around, "My regrets, you can come down, and I swear I won't stare!"

Cautiously, she obliged, and in no time, was amidst the mess with the. "You can drop your cloak on the floor," she was still flushed, "I'll be sure to soak on immediately!" It was almost as if she were apologizing for merely being there. 

Auron did as she asked and turned to face her. Jen was commanding in size alone, but she looked so physically and emotionally delicate. He pitied her to a degree and tried to speak comfortably. "El was right. I swear I don't bight." 

Jen still looked to the floor but appreciated his integrity, slowly picking up the discarded cloak from the floor. As she rose, each took a further glance at the other. 

Despite the smell, the seamstress did find him quite attractive for a human. He was taller than most human men that she'd seen in Draynor, and his build was rather beefy for one too. In truth, Auron had put on a little bit of muscle since leaving his homestead those many months ago. Weighing around 210lbs at his heaviest. Plus, the young man's facial features had somewhat matured at the same time, even sporting a bit of reddish facial hair. 

Perhaps his father had been on to something.

Auron examined her a tiny bit further, noticing the tight green turtleneck that hugged to her soft frame tightly beneath the apron. Jen also wore a long black dress in an attempt to cover her legs, but it'd failed miserably when it came to her lush behind. By the Gods and The Great Wolf.

"Your arm!" She unexpectedly sprung from the kneeling position, beginning to tenderly fondle the bandaged appendage. Both Auron and Elios were surprised, but Jen seemed lost in a state of concern. "Are you alright, what happened!" 

Now he was nearly blushing, "I'm fine, I promise." Elios quickly interjected in a perplexed state, "I've come here plenty of times after a scrap, and you didn't check on me!" 

She brushed him aside, "Oh El, you never get hurt." He sighed in content agreement, "fair enough."

"I'm fine, really, it's not a wound." He tried not to give too much away but didn't wish to worry her any further. "Well," she hesitated in thought, "these bandages still need to be changed. Wound or no wound I can't leave a friend of El's in dirty bandages." She looked into his eyes with a deep sense of concern. Auron could tell that she meant it as he peered past her little spectacles and into her greenish-brown orbs. There was no winning battle.

"In fact, you should take a bath, it seems like you really need it." She let out a short giggle, some of pity. Auron desperately tried to defend himself, realizing that they hadn't told her why he stunk, "I-I swear it isn't me! There was a fishmonger and-" 

"No need." She reassured, "There is a washroom upstairs, fresh, hot water comes through the pipes so it should be clean." It made sense, as she did need a lot of clean water for the quantities of laundry that passed through her doors. 

Jen was much more at ease now, motioning for her newest client to head with her.

---

"You really don't need to do this," Auron anxiously winced as Jen prepared a fresh roll of bandages, "I'm really not hurt, I promise." They had moved to the small backroom of the laundromat, storage space for various chemicals and supplies. El had disappeared to resume his previous errands. 

She failed to acknowledge his protests, seemingly lost in a motherly stupor, planted in stool beside his own.

"I swear I won't hurt you," she mumbled, eyes attentively locked onto the bandaged arm. Auron grimaced in embarrassment as she undid the first layer of bandages. 

"Oh!" She nearly jolted from her seat, and once again, her skin was red hot in excitement. "Yes, I know." Auron hung his head weakly but didn't attempt to dissuade her from going any further. She resumed, tenderly peeling the soiled wrappings from his scaly red arm as if it were a holiday present.

Rather than embarrassment or fear, all the half-minotaur felt was an eager curiosity. 

By the time Jen was finished, his right arm was entirely exposed; Auron reflexively stretched his freshly freed claws. 

"You must be half-dragon, aren't you! Oh, how exciting! How exciting! I've heard they're quite uncommon these days! After all, they don't really--" Jen looked up at Auron in a flash of pure joy, but as she examined his face, all she saw was the grief she'd involuntary caused him. He averted his gaze, preferring to look to the floorboards than at the exposed arm.

The curvy cow-girl instinctually wrapped her plump arms around his body, to both of their surprises. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have removed--" She stopped herself after a moment of clarity, and pulled away, hurridly fixing her tiny glasses while strands of hair slipped from the messy hairdo. 

She was a strange one, indeed.  

Auron pitied her as she didn't mean any real harm, "Don't apologize, you couldn't have known." With a long sigh, he began to tell her an annotated version of his recent travels. From Yaz to the orc fiasco and finally to his Uncle. He made sure to cut out some of the more explicit details. While there was no reason to explain himself, perhaps it would help him come to terms if someone else knew.

Jen didn't quite understand, but in the world of Aereth, such complicated matters were best left unquestioned. She planted a delicate hand on his thigh. "Well, sir Auron, despite my...fearful, nature, I am no stranger to the realities of life. There aren't many like me. Honestly, there aren't many like us, people with monstrous heritages that is." The word "monstrous" cut deep. 

"Half-minotaurs can only be born of a union between a true minotaur and a true human or elf, and such unions are often... forced, to say the least." She recoiled at the idea, and Auron could put the pieces into place. 

He'd heard of monsters ravaging women before, perhaps more savagely than any sentient creature, and on the off chance they survived, the victim was usually left with a hybrid offspring. 

"Sometimes, things aren't meant to be, but here we are. Left to struggle and survive." Her eyes were glossy with tears, but she swiftly wiped them away. 

Without much thinking, Auron raised his draconian hand and brushed her tender cheek, allowing it to linger on her chin for a moment.

They explored the details of each other's eyes, trying to pinpoint what exactly the opposite was thinking; the air was thick between the fighter and the seamstress. 

Her full lips slightly parted in expectancy. 

The moment ended abruptly with Jen letting out a flustered sigh, "W-Well, your w-water should be ready now." The cow-girl's creamy skin was once again burning bright red.

--

Auron sat back in the warm waters of the deep tub, using a combination of the mistress's soaps and other products to clean the foul fish odor from his body. 

The young man's thoughts were aimless. First centering on the voluptuous fullness of the cowgirl in all manner of lewd positions, imagining how she gasped when pressed into a wall or over a counter. These were delightful daydreams, and he could feel his erection growing in the warm waters that engulfed him. 

Unfortunately, these were soon replaced by the melancholy thoughts that frequented his idle mind. Of the partners he'd met in his journies and all the heartache and tragedy that came with them, to a feeling of intangible loss. Auron let out a discontented sigh as he tried to release his building tension. 

Unbeknownst to her guest, Jen wasn't very far at all. In fact, she was just outside of the cleaning room's doorway. She silently gasped against the corridor's granite wall, lost in her own lustful series thoughts. 

To stifle a moan, the cow-girl coarsely bit her lower lip as both of her fondling hands went to work. One groped at her enormous breast, massaging both of them with great care while also milking the ends of her swollen nipples. The other hand had slipped down her skirt, rapidly spreading her aching mound, and what a mound it was. While it was quite similar to a human's, her womanhood produced a great deal of moisture and heat. Before she knew it, the once clean black dress had a large, growing splotch. 

Jennifer had some experience with men but was consistently let down by her would-be suitors. While courtship in Draynor had its benefits, be that a large pool of diversity to choose from, it also had its downsides. Her potential mates were either too big and brutish or sensitive and too small for her taste. Not that she discriminated! But for means of intimacy and passion, a more diminutive lover would be, well, crushed. The farthest she'd gotten was a pitiable handjob with an ex-Tiefling lover in her youth; needless to say, things didn't work out.

She did her best to stifle another trembling gasp, shuddering against the corridor wall as a small puddle formed beneath her legs. 

Humans frightened Jen, given the long history of bullying that she faced due to her heritage, but this one intrigued her. While he was still a stranger, the account of his recent travels was both inspiring and heartrending. Little to her knowledge, cow-girls had an innate motherly instinct, and right now it was paired with another, more sexual instinct. She wondered how it felt to feel those pointed digits slowly run across her most tender of areas; the rare nature of this human aroused her. The thought drove her to further dig into her throbbing pussy. 

---

That night, Elios invited all of them out for drinks. The errands he'd run earlier in the day consisted of cashing in on recently completed contracts. As anxious as she was, Jen politely refused. Social scenes didn't suit her, and given the state of her establishment, it was clear that she had a great deal of work to accomplish. 

The monk was insistent. He'd made a new friend and needed to celebrate; Auron would decide things. 

Auron interjected, "Why don't we just help Jen clean up a bit and drink here? Do you have a kitchen?" Jen, realizing that she wouldn't be weaseling out of this humble celebration, weakly replied, "It's in the back, but I haven't had company in a long time! I'm sorry for the mess!" 

The monk, on edge due to his lack of inebriation, hurriedly got to work. Quickly dancing about the room with a hamper and with great agility placing discarded clothes into baskets. El was a martial artist of a particular school, and alcohol was their catalyst in many respects; nothing could keep him from a stiff drink. 

Shrugging, Auron also got to work, and with the help of the bovine beauty, the three of them quickly cleaned a section of the messy laundromat. In all honesty, it was nice to do some menial work. He'd take it over an undead ogre any day. 

"There!" El let out a triumphant breath as he tossed a final mop into its closet. They'd worked quick and in little time had cleaned up a chunk of the main floor and much of the small dining room. "Now, drinks!"

---

"What is this!" Auron nearly choked on the first shot, barely managing to down the thing. Jen had also struggled, but not so pathetically as the human. 

El raised an eyebrow, "Just a unique concoction from my favorite tavern." The monk had consumed his drink with great ease, already pouring the second round of shots; the night was still young after all. "No, what is this? Rum, whiskey?" Auron resumed his line of question, baffled by what he'd just slammed back.

Blinking while itching his scalp in confusion, El offered his best answer. "I don't know... my barman says it's strong and I believe him! No need to question an expert, in my opinion." Elios was indeed a simple man. Not stupid, just simple.

Jen, who was sitting beside Auron, reassured him. "El's word is good, but if it's too strong of a brew for you, I swear we won't judge you!" Her voice sounded concerned, but he could tell she was taking a lighthearted jab. She had removed her apron, and two extremely swollen areolae imprinted her turtleneck sweater, a now barefoot running across his leg under the table. Auron noticed this tipsy flirt, and not to be shown up, asked for his second shot. 

5 shots later. 

"Y-you know w'ut," Auron sloppily mumbled his words, "I don' even like drag'n's!" The drunken young man's scaly red arm shot upward, "Now look, look at m-me!" He stuttered wildly, and in his drunken slurs, there was a bit of truth. Auron had hated the things, even before Ucalanath's tantrum; he unsurprisingly gravitated towards lycanthropes. Surprisingly, even his bronze skin was now flushed, red cheeks clear signs of his intoxication. 

Elios hickuped supportively, "I think it looks prett'y good!" his speech was much less affected, but even the heavy drinking monk was feeling the effects of his special grog. 

Who was this man? He'd appeared like a phantom, without any warning or reason, but had ultimately made Auron's time in Draynor substantially better; even though he exile had other, more pressing, matters. 

Jen was the worst of the three, her messy bun of hair undone, spectacles discarded, and eyes heavy with giddy drunkenness; cowlike ears twitched lazily. "I think...," She paused to collect her thoughts, "It look's pre-pretty, f-freeaking, neat!" Jen let out a full bout of laughter as she finished her sentence. How long had it been since she'd let loose? El had constantly nagged and bribed her, trying to get the reserved cow-girl to have a little fun, but she usually excused herself from such forays. What had gotten into her?

They could all agree on one thing; this was nice. An unorthodox trio huddled around a single, recently disheveled, dining room table; shot glasses spilled onto the floorboards. Each one needed this drunken fun for one reason or another. To laugh, to let go, to forget, and for a time it worked. 

---

As the hours of the night began to pass, it was quite clear that Auron was the slowest to sober up. Even as El and Jennifer were starting to feel somewhat more of themselves, their newfound friend couldn't seem to get ahold of his senses. Jen, with her motherly instincts returning to her, got up from the table and headed from the dining room. 

"I'll go get something for our guest," she casually mentioned to El on her way out, an oversized rack bouncing with each movement. While her intentions were good, they weren't entirely wholesome. 

The half-elf gave a slight nod and placed a hand on his still drunken friend's shoulder, "You'll be just fine, friend."

Raising his head from the soaked table, Auron gave El a long and suspicious look, "Did chu' drug m-me?" His sentence finished with a hickup. 

El, taking no offense to the drunken man's comment, softly shook his head. "Never, I just forgot is all. This stuff doesn't hit me like it does most, and Jen? Well, it hits her hard but moves fast, she's a big gal after all." He sighed as he continued to comfort the young lad, "You'll be fine."

When the cow-girl returned, it wasn't empty-handed, but instead with a great flagon in her hand. She quickly took Elios' place and began to gently reassure Auron, "Drink this, and you'll be fine hun."

Too out of his wits to resist, he tried his best to get a firm grip on the drink. 

Noticing that there was ample time to have another drink, Elios got up from the table. He entrusted Auron to the care of Jennifer and would be calling it a night at her abode; he'd swing by to check on the poor lad in the morning. 

Jen had no qualms with this, to say the least, and bid him ado with butterflies in her stomach. 

As Auron quickly gulped down the mysterious beverage, he indeed felt much of his intoxication subside; its smooth sweetness seemed to soothe his unbalanced mind. Still, he was drowsy, and more than anything wanted to rest his eyes for a but a moment. Before passing out, face pressed into the dining room table, he felt two soft hands run over his shoulders. "Come on, big guy," Jen softly whispered, "let's get you to bed."

---

His host was a generous one indeed and had allowed him to stay in the master bedroom. His entire body felt warm and cozy as he lay on the incredibly large mattress; it did have to fit a minotaur. Jen had left him to his devices and would be sleeping in another room. He would've protested, but he lacked that sort of energy at the moment, merely grateful for her generosity; a lone candle illuminated the quiet chamber. 

There was a sudden knock at the corner of the doorway, "Can I come in?" Jen requested in such a caring, motherly tone that he hadn't much of a reason to refuse except, "I may need to put some clothes back--"

She entered, regardless of his sentiment, wearing nothing more than her small glasses, the impossibly curvy figure now in full, unbridled, nakedness; her nipples were already leaking. 

Auron was dumbfounded, as to him, she'd shown very little in the way of attraction. In the little experience that he'd accumulated, the women were the sexual aggressors, plainly asserting what fleshy desires occupied their minds. This was an unexpected turn of events.

His lips parted in an attempt to speak, but she quickly hushed him, moving onto the extra-king sized bed with unexpected elegance. "I hope you enjoyed the milk?" While her voice lacked any inclination of seduction, Jen had one thing in mind. She nestled by his side, rubbing a large and powerful leg against his own, "Long ago, I heard that minotaur's milk helped with drunkenness and, well, other dilemmas." Auron was fixed, but not in fear or even anxiety, but in total warmth and relaxation. "Considering I'm only a half-minotaur, I didn't know whether it'd work or not, but considering," she trailed off as a pale hand slowly worked down his abdomen. 

By The Gods, he was already rock hard, his thick cock already throbbing at the graze of a fingertip. "Fuck," he moaned lowly as droplets of precum began to dribble from his twitching head. 

Jen sighed in relief, "that's a good boy." She nuzzled the crown of her head into his neck while making sure not to prod with stubby horns. It didn't take long for her to get to work below rhythmically milk him. 

Wow. Wow. Wow! The thoughts and feelings erupted like shocks of lightening in his head. Each stroke felt unnaturally pleasant, almost to the point where he was nearly pleading her to stop. It didn't stop there, as now she shifted her body slightly upward, "You can have a drink if you want." Jen smiled and nodded towards her breast, both puffed and dripping a steady stream of fresh ambrosia. He hesitated, and before greedily suckling, he asked, "May I?"

The question only served to further his host's lustful nature and, using her free hand, guided his warm mouth towards her bosom. Jennifer, the once shy cow-girl, moaned in relief as he finally soothed her tension.

Lost in pleasuring his new lover, Auron shot thick strands of hot cum onto her gripping hand as well as some of the sheets. While he felt partly embarrassed, he understood that the milk was working its strange wonders on his body; Jen reassured this assumption. 

"Good job," she hummed as she finished using her hand to extract every bit of seed. Both clever and eager to please, she'd planned for this eventuality. "Don't worry," she let out another sweet moan, "you'll have plenty of energy." 

There was no hostility or judgment in her voice, and each time her body rubbed against his was intentional and caring. Auron's mind retreated to a purer place and time as he indulged in her exotic and almost intoxicating milk. 

Having achieved one goal, it was time for another, and this one had been on her mind for quite some time. With ease and tender consideration, Jennifer moved into position and began to straddle the thick prick. Once again, Auron had to prevent himself from immediately spraying a hot load of baby batter, as this time, he was crammed inside of her gripping walls. 

"By The Great Wolf," Auron moaned as Jen leaned down to lock lips with her lover. Yet again, he did nothing. Jen had made it her mission to take care of him and planned to do so; thoroughly. She gyrated her lower body, hands pressing into his broad chest, and let out a series of soft moans. He was a good fit for the well-rounded woman, and while Jen could've fit more inside of her cavernous walls, there was little more she could ask for. 

The two of them shared a series of both long and short moans, occasionally taking the time to kiss and caress each other's quivering bodies. 

Finally, unable to take anymore, the exile released the rest of his semen inside of her delighted body. Jennifer blissfully grabbed at her shoulder-length hair, caught in a fit of ragged titters. "What a good boy."

---

As they lay in post-coital bliss, Jennifer had a question for her exhausted lover. She nudged him sweetly before asking, "What is The Great Wolf?"

Unfortunately, he was sound asleep, peacefully lulled by her motherly warmth as well as that of her potent aphrodisiac. Jen smiled and dozed off to bed. 

---

The next morning went surprisingly well. Auron paced downstairs, greeted by the surprise of a fresh set of clothing and a clean cloak. His blessings didn't end there, as Jennifer had prepared a full meal of freshly cooked eggs, steel-cut oats, grilled vegetables, and of course, a tall fresh glass of milk. His hostess wore only her ill-fitted apron, much of her nude beauty exposed to for proper appreciation, and a gentle smile across her rosy face.

"Any time before El stops by?"

----

We back. 

-V

