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The minotaur inhaled the slightly humid air the wind was carrying towards him together with the burbling sound of the spring. His tail flicked and he reflexively turned his head from one side to the other. There was a bad odor clinging to it, as if some subtle poison had been dissolved in the water bubbling up. The spring ahead was situated relatively close to the tribal village and recently, there had been strange cases of sickness. At first, Gobra had not been able to figure out what it was, even though the spiritual nature of the bouts of animalistic madness, nightmares and inner bleedings had been immediately clear to him. He had wasted precious days finding out that everyone who had drunken water from this spring had been affected. The water itself carried just little enough of the contamination that it had not triggered the sense for the spiritual forces of the world he had so carefully cultivated. And even now, I only had become apparent when he was this close to the spring... He took a deep breath, clutching the protective amulet he had prepared for this occasion as he slowly stepped closer. The spring emerged from a small outcropping of rock, flowing down into a clear pool at the base of the hills that nourished a small stream that eventually spread into a lake. The minotaur was drawing in air through his nostrils again. Yes, the contamination was stronger still. And yet... It had not made the plants wither nor seemingly affected most of the animals... He knew that the spring had once been close to a ritual site, further up the mountains, one that had been abandoned, even though he did not know the reason for that.

He was close enough to the water now to see his own reflection in the pool. Like most minotaurs, he had no need for clothing for warmth under most circumstances, and thus what he wore consisted mainly of leather bands, a loincloth from expensive scarlet fabric traded from the Yuan people of the southern cities and of course lots of charms, bags for his ritual supplies and little trinkets. Slung to his back, he also carried one of the great ceremonial double axes, in his case made from the traditional blood bronze and not the pale steel that many of his tribe had come to favor. He could sense that some entity was lingering here, the ripples in the wind of the spirit face of the world tickled his short, dark fur and he could smell it. Serpentine, but also something else... It seemed to be waiting for him to make his move, maybe trying to lull him in with a false sense of security. But he could feel it's anger, no, it was more a vengeful hatred, old, back from the forefathers' time... He would take the time then, laying out his tools. Murmuring a few incantations to the father spirit, he threw one of the prepared bundles of herbs and crushed stones into the spring. There was a hiss in the air and the water began to boil where his offerings touched the surface. Tongues of flames licked up, turning them to brittle, gray ash. He snorted, drawing his ax to bring it down on the surface with a thunk. A ripple seemed to go through the air, the water had turned thick to the blade, as if he was striking flesh, but just as he had thought he had pinned the spirit, channeling his own energy through the ritual blade, it slipped through his grasp. Gobra had the feeling of many coils shifting and almost too late he raised his blade, just in time to ward of the shimmering coils suddenly slinging themselves around him, the air crackling and the blade growing glowing hot. Then with an angry hiss, he could feel the head of the serpent strike at him, the maw opened, baring its fangs. His amulet shattered to pieces, releasing a searing wave of heat, that made the spirit recoil. Gobra, still reeling from he shock, was just fast enough to edge a circle into the ground with his blade, grabbing a clay bottle of sacred oil to pour into the cleft he had drawn around him, igniting to form a ring of flames that kept the spirit at bay. The damn thing already had withdrawn though, it seemed, not letting him get even a good glimpse of it! He exhaled, feeling the steam rise from his body. He had to pin down the spirit, but for that, he had to find a way to grasp it in the first place... No trap... This spirit would not take the bait, he was sure of it... And it was too fast to chase... No his only chance was strength and stamina, he had to catch it as it attacked him, but for that... He closed his eyes for a moment, blindly grabbing one of the bottles from his belt. This potion had the lifeblood of a young lion in it, a beast he had personally wrestled down and throttled, making sure to catch every drop of its departing life essence. Yes, this would give him strength, but he also would have to open his eyes... The salve was equally quickly found, this here mixed from ground rock crystal for clarity, burned eagle feathers for farsight and the ashes of elder's bones for the pathway to the other side... He rubbed it over his eyelids, temples, nostrils and ears before gulping down the salty tasting potion. Now, only one more thing... The ritual clay was warm and moist from the blood, sweat, tears and semen of the young warrior, who had been captured and given to the goods after the last battle with the grassland riders of the eastern plains. It was normally used to craft vessels for spirits to inhabit and speak through, but it had other uses as well... He rubbed it between his hands till both of them were coated in a thick layer of warm earth. The Minotaur let out a loud roar, stepping with one hoof on the remains of the circle of flame, making them snuff out in a last flicker. The spirit did not bite, not yet... Gobra grinned, stepping towards the water, starting one of his strongest incantations of purification. The spirit had to either attack him again or allow him to gradually weaken its power over this area. And thus, when the serpentine head struck, he was prepared, his muscles bulging as he let his power flare. The teeth struck him, but his aura was strong enough to withstand the vile poison, long enough at least for him to grab the head and body of the spirit. The ritual clay glowed and grew hot, filling the air with the earthy smell of ebbing lifeblood. He closed his strong hands around its neck, working his fingers into the maw till he slowly forced the jaws apart. He felt an exhilarating rush of heady energy as he had the spirit wildly thrashing in his grip. Yes, it was fast, it was clever but it did not have enough pure strength and endurance to escape, not when the ritual clay clung to it, forcing it already halfway into the physical world. Gobra knew what to do next, now while the magic was still strong. He let out another primal roar, forcing out his spirit, feeling all of the serpentine coils, more so, feeling the thing, that slippery something behind them, a lithe, so much smaller body... And when he had that, it was easy, his fingers kneading spirit energy into clay till it swelled, growing warm slippery with sweat, solid and fleshy... His muscles bulged as he forced the last of the thrashing serpent coils into the form that was taking shape between his hands. Much smaller than him, not even like an adult man... The spirit let out a fierce, piercing cry, as Gobra wrestled it, him, to the ground, both of them panting, sweating heavily. He looked down at the boy, a youth in the fool bloom of adolescence, the skin pale but tanned to a beautiful slight hue of bronze under the sun, matching the gold and brown patches of scale that adorned parts of his body and the slim tail that sprouted just above his firm ass. "Haaah, you are one of the snake touched of the Yuan people!" Gobra snorted, looking down into the emerald green eyes beneath the dark blonde hair looking up at him with wild, fierce anger.

The boy writhed and struggled, trying desperately to slither from the minotaur's grip, spouting curses at his captor and trying to surge against the bonds he was confined in. "Death to you, you filthy, maneating beasts, death, madness and despair on you all! I am finally free after all those centuries, free to take revenge on your filthy kind!" He spat out the words with a venomous force, causing Gobra to flinch for a moment before he bore down on him, pressing him to the ground and flattening with all his spiritual power. "For a cute thing, you sure have a spiteful mouth!" He looked down, panting, feeling wave after wave of energy pulse through him. The shaman felt his loins stir at the feel of warm flesh beneath him. Having this ancient, malevolent spirit in his grasp, struggling helplessly as he was trapped in an earthly form was a heady rush of power that made his pride and his cock swell. "You, you must be the reason then why the forefathers abandoned the ritual site, they trapped you up there and you have escaped their bonds now, have you...?" He drew in a long breath. This must have been how the youth had smelled in his life, he must have been one of the Yuan's chosen, born with the sacred blood of their serpent deities... The boy looked at him with so much vengeful hate, his mouth twisting. "Your kind took our people! You attacked without warning! You slaughtered our warriors like cattle! You, you raped the women and, and the young men, too! You ate them alive and you, you...." Gobra saw the spirit boy contort, saw him try to break free, only to be battered down again by a surge of his own energy. But he could see now, see the visions as the boy spoke. Yes, the forefathers' time indeed, when the Yuan people and the horned clans had not made peace and raiding them had been a frequent sport for the young warriors. The trade and the peace... It had tamed the minotaurs, had it not...? It must have, because he felt torn, between envy and revulsion as he saw the young minotaurs, many of them completely naked, rushing the soldiers of the Yuan, horns bloody as they gored them, seemingly uncaring when one of their own was impaled twitching on a sturdy spear. It was intense, it was bloody, heated and carnal. And it only was over when all soldiers lay dead, stripped of everything, undoubtedly set aside for a feast later... But there was no need yet to feast on dead meat, when there was living flesh to be had. Oh and the boy, the precious, special one, he had been desecrated, his body defiled by the sweating young bulls, ramming their cocks into him, making him whimper and cry. And he could feel it, the boy, kept immaculate and sheltered. He had been torn between shame and longing. What a cruel fate it must have been to have he carnal desire he held for the touch of another man twisted into this orgy of blood and violence. Made to see how several of the servant boys of his age were equally raped, as were the women and every other surviving Yuan. Though females at least would be spared for breeding, the boys however... Gobra could see their used bodies writhing as they were already to weak to fight as the young minotaur warriors would devour them. Not tearing into the tender flesh, no, minotaurs did not have the teeth to tear into uncooked meat, but a young human was so easy to swallow whole... Just the boy had been spared, spared and brutally teased to have his face pressed into the squirming abdomen, hearing how the young warriors would boast of their prey spurting out their seed as they were eaten alive... But not the chosen boy, the pure boy, who was taken alive, unable to do anything, having to watch the dead Yuan soldiers cooked over the flames, the survivors abused... He was to be taken, no longer allowed to be touched, taken to the ritual site... Oh, of course, Gobra understood. A sacrifice to the horned gods, what better choice for that then a chosen child of the serpent gods of their enemies... And he saw it then, quickly, a flicker of the boy tied down, shamefully, achingly hard, tears and blood flowing onto the thirsty dry earth... His radiant life given to their gods, but his spirit, his semi divine spirit, that would linger... And he hated, he was mad with hate and grief and, guilt... And so one of the shamans of old had done the practical thing, bound him, sealed him and abandoned the ritual site... Gobra looked down, feeling a strange calm for a moment as he looked down at the spirit, still screaming and wriggling in his grip. "You do know that there now is peace for centuries between my kind and yours...?" He asked mildly, ignoring his hard erection that had swollen to full, proud, pulsing size as the memory had flooded into him. "I care not! Your kind are a scourge on the earth itself and your gods nothing but bloodthirsty abominations! Every one of you I drive to turn his bestial blood lust on your own kind will be a blessing to this earth! Every death brought a mercy on all who walk it"" The boy's eyes were welling with tears, which ran down over the beautiful cheeks. Gobra sighed. No, this spirit would not be bought to peace, not by his words... He could feel him so intensely now. What a pitiful thing. It was not even the hate that burned fiercest, oh no, this one wanted to atone... Gobra could feel it, the blame. Of course, yes, now as a spirit, he knew his powers, he knew what he could have done to safe his people and yet he had not been able to then, too young, too inexperienced. And there was still more in all this mess of bubbling emotion. Gobra panted, as he used one knee to brush the boy's legs apart. He had felt it, heck, he had smelled it, but as he shifted position, one powerful hand pinning down both the boy's forearms, he used the other to stroke the youth's firmly erect shaft. Oh, poor, poor, innocent little snake prince... Gobra grinned, locking eyes on the boy. He looked up at him with a now almost pitifully broken expression, the lust, the shame, the grief and deep down still that painful, searing hatred that was always hurting himself as much as it could ever hurt anyone else. "No, d, don't..." The boy begged, his body rigid, quivering, unable to hide the deep need below. Gobra knew what he had to do and in a sense, was it not just as it should be that the Horned Father would send him this? He was horny, and, he was also damn hungry... "Sorry, boy, but I cannot let you do harm to my tribe and you already gave me enough trouble, now..." Gobra grunted, feeling his cock jolt, already dribbling with pre. The boy felt fully warm and alive in his earthly binding and he smelled deliciously of sweat and arousal and all that mess of emotions only made his mouth water even more... He let out a guttural, bovine cry, as his broad tongue lapped over the boy's chest. The youth was flushed, sweating, still trying to squirm and struggle. But the minotaur would have none of that. His cock ached with pleasure as he pushed into the warm body, feeling it all tight and hot around him. His cock was so slick with precum that it just took him one slow thrust to go all the way in. He grinned, feeling a fierce satisfaction as he felt the boy jerk wildly, jolting with a dark, shameful ecstasy. He had wanted that. Oh, yes, he had hated himself for it, but every night when the warriors had slaked their lust on the surviving Yuan, he had shamefully longed, beyond the lie of wanting to suffer in his people's stead, he had wanted it... And now he was closing his eyes, his face burning with a pinkish blush, his cock rock hard and leaking as Gobra fucked him, slammed into him, feeling his balls aching with the wonderful sensation of it. The boy cried, with tears running over his cheeks, but when Gobra's sweat soaked fur brushed against his naked skin, he shivered, unable to suppress the helpless whimper. And he felt deep down that the harder he took him, the more the mass of resentment resolved, broke down till all there was left was a shivering, crying youth. Gobra did not even have to touch him to make him cum, the boy just twitched and spasmed, drawing so tight around him that Gobra, too, could not help roaring out, feeling the weird wish to break him, take him harder still, feeling that deep desire for punishment that had been hidden deeply beneath the grief and hate and shame. He kept slamming his shaft deep into him even when he felt the ecstatic rush of orgasm, reveling in the lewd sound his cock made when it slammed into the now cum filled ass of the youth. He was whimpering and crying out, with cum splattered all over that bronzed, lithe body, shaking and glistening with sweat. When Gobra finally stopped, he just looked up at him, making him feel the still unresolved mess of emotion. But that was alright, because Gobra had been feeling his stomach rumble for a while and it must have been mere seconds until the loud growl interrupted the moment where their eyes had met. The boy had barely any fight left in him, as he struggled against his grip, jerking helplessly as the minotaur pressed his face against his rumbling eight pack abdomen. "This time you will make some good minotaur fodder, little princeling..." He breathed heavily, seeing that helpless stir, seeing into his eyes, deeply, all the way to the point where his words were met with a miserable, selfdestructive yearning for it. And it was mixed with a shameful curiosity, fueled by the realization that many of the young Yuan servants had perished with a heady ecstatic rush of orgasmic sensation... Oh, yes, he wanted it deep down and it made Gobra even more hungry as his grin opened into a leer and then just into a yawning abyss. He looked into those helpless, tormented eyes for a last time, before his lips closed over them and he grabbed him under the arms, lifting him up. The boy tasted wonderfully alive, the sacred clay fully binding him to the lingering life force, his skin tasting salty from the sweat, smooth and delicate. He swallowed with a greedy gulp, lapping over the pert nipples, getting them and the toned chest nicely slicked up, washing over his muscular arms, pushing into his naked, hairless pits. The boy had no hair on his body at all, it seemed, that had to be part of the blood of the snake goods... Gobra felt him squirm and kick, but it was feeble, and the helpless shiver and reverberating whimper told him as much about the boy's state as the once again rock hard cock brushing over his muscular torso.

Another gulp let him savor the flat abdomen, tease the bellybutton as he grabbed him by his nice, well fucked ass, pushing him further in. He had lots of fun teasing the stiff erection, knowing how much it affected his meal. God, he was devouring an ancient, pretty powerful spirit, one who had been a godling prince in life! He flattened the hard, straining cock against the boy's abdomen, moving his tongue slowly back and forth, making the boy squirm and whimper. He was breaking apart, he could feel it, he was reliving every part of it and he could feel how the hatred started to unravel, the feeling of self loathing break up into the relief that had to come with the utter loss of control. Poor little innocent boy... Gobra gave him another slow, teasing savoring lick, which made him buck and thrash wildly as he came all over his tongue. A playful slap on his ass, another shove, and gravity began to help him as he devoured the boy in a series of quick, hungry gulps. It felt satisfying like no meal had for years at the least. The minotaur took the chance to savor the very last of his smooth, toned legs and the wriggling feet, slurping over them with teasing licks till all of the youth was curled up in his stomach. He licked his lips, letting out a loud burp, that made his stomach contract around the boy. He was kicking and squirming for a bit, likely realizing soon that air was of course not an issue for him. Gobra patted his belly and grinned, still feeling an incredulous sense of triumph at what he had done. "Hnnnh, so, now you will digest..." He leaned back, stretching out on the ground and feeling his stomach churn. Well, of course, he could not just digest the spirit as he would a mere human boy, that would just destroy his bindings eventually and leave him with the same problem. ...though, admittedly, the experience alone might be enough to undo that pathetic, centuries old guilt and shame and longing and that hatred - for himself more than anyone else. But Gobra would not put his tribe at risk and truth be told, neither did he want the boy to suffer^like that for even more centuries to come. So after a few minutes of delightful squirming and glorious fullness, the minotaur grabbed his gear which had ended up scattered all over the place in the rape of the spirit boy and began a slow, deep hum as he prepared for the purification. Oh, he had done it before, actually, though that had been lesser spirits that had possessed actual living hosts, merged with them to the point where none of his skills had been able to force them apart... He thought of those for a moment, of them and of other delightfully tasty young males of all sorts of species he had devoured... So, now the steps he needed: The circle, the offering to he great spirits, the flames of purification, the symbols drawn in the earth's blood over his naked body... The boy was still squirming inside as he lay down, using his hand to massage his gut. He could feel a bit of the outlines of the princeling through the distended, bulging flesh. He was sliding about, all slick with sweat and saliva and the juices of his stomach, wriggling about till Gobra was quite certain he felt a not that little stiff piece of flesh pressing against where his hand lay. Oh, yes, seemed like the boy was in for a proper final send off. Gobra felt the spiritual energy suffusing his body, a great sense of calm, as if his body was bathed in a wonderful, restful sensation of utter bliss as his stomach churned. And the boy was really starting to writhe inside now. The minotaur could feel him buck, could sense him cry out, all the emotions starting to come loose. He had to smile at that. The boy was begging for forgiveness for his failings in life, was pleading with every fiber of his body as the ecstasy of the purification overwhelmed him. He really, really had been a pure thing, not at all cut out to be a vengeful spirit, by the Horned Father... Gobra kept listening to the fading motions, feeling the calm wash over him as all that pent up anguish started to fade away. He blinked, feeling his own body overwhelmed as finally, the boy was spent, literally and in spirit. He thought he could feel him squirm and buck and cry out in a last, ecstatic convulsion, but he might already have been dreaming by then, his eyes falling shut as the big, hunky minotaur fell asleep in the warm afternoon sun, his tongue flicking over his lips a last time as his muzzle twisted into a content grin.

When Gobra finally woke up, it was already morning. Horned Father, how long had he slept? He groaned and stretched, shifting about to feel his stomach. Flat. Hnnnh, seemed like it had been done then. It was weird though, he had to admit, to feel both fully sated and without any pressure on his bowels. Given that the boy's body had just been made from a bit of clay, the life force it had soaked up and the spirit's own spiritual energy, it was unsurprising that there wasn't anything to pass from his body this time. He yawned and stretched, rising to his feet to loosen his muscles. Gobra realized that he actually did not know what had become of the spirit now. Had he passed on? He was pretty sure he could not have taken all of him in, or could he? Was he still somewhere out there? "Hah, well, whatever has become of you, my tasty little snake princeling, I am not sure if it is any of my business now." He shook his head. He had achieved what he had come for and his tribe would be waiting for his return. He let his gaze wander, up to the hills where that old ritual site must be located. "Well, another time, maybe..." He smiled, grabbing his ax and his bags, fastening the leather bands back around his muscular form as he sat out, back to the tribe's village.