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The night was cool and rainy, cloudy and overcast. She was in her element. That should have slowed her pursuer down. But there was no such hope. In the distance, she could hear the tapping of hooves on wet pavement. He was relentless!

Cradling her precious cargo to her chest, she dashed off again. She had to keep moving. There was nothing else for it now. It all depended on this. She had to keep moving, or else--

There was a sudden movement, and the next thing she knew, she felt something sweeping against her legs, she flew into the air and impacted the wet pavement. She was on her back and her precious cargo was lying several feet away. The next thing she knew, there was a bright light shining in her eyes, and a figure in a heavy coat worn over a blue uniform was standing over her, brandishing a heavy flashlight. He scooped up the little wrapper and opened it up, giving it a sniff.

"Ophelia Deeproot," he said, pointing the flashlight at her again. "You are under arrest for trafficking of illegal substances and a whole list of other things I'm too cold and wet to list off."

"Fuck you, cop," she spat. "Nothing you have is going to stick!"

"Yeah, same to you," he said, pulling her up and quickly slapping a pair of cuffs onto her. "And we've already raided the lab. Your partner rolled over like a cat desperate for a belly rub. Your whole operation is going down."

As he dragged her out into the light of a street lamp, Ophelia got a good look at the man arresting her for the first time. He was tall and broad-chested, with deep brown skin and short, curly hair, out of which two small caprine horns protruded. His lower extremities, as far as could be seen beneath the coat, were covered in steel-grey fur and ended in a pair of hooves. She grinned.

"Maybe we can make some sort of deal," she said, giving him a wink. "I know your type, officer. Surely there's something I can offer you in exchange for letting me go."

To drive the point home, she thrust her hips back, letting her shapely rear rub up against the officer's groin. He sighed heavily.

"Just once, I'd like to meet a criminal who doesn't try that first," he said, tugging on her harder. "Just one time would be nice. And for the record, even if I was inclined to let you go in exchange for a fuck - which I'm not, by the way - believe me when I say you wouldn't care much for the experience. Trust me on that."

And with that, he dragged her back to his squad car, swearing all the way.

Most people would feel pretty good about getting a drug lord off the streets, and under normal circumstances, this officer would. But he had been having a really long, really frustrating couple of weeks, and they were about to come to a head.

~*~

Echidnopolis was a bustling urban center, densely populated and very prosperous. It boasted one of the lowest crime rates in the region, but a low crime rate didn't mean "no crime". No matter how many preventative measures you took, people who wanted more than they had, and so you needed people to keep the peace.

Zac Silverhide was one of these people. He trudged into the 82nd district's bullpen, dragging a struggling woman along with him.

"Ophelia Deeproot," he said, as he handed his arrestee over to the custody officer. "Female naiad, thirty-seven years old, wanted for basically all of the drug-related crimes on the books and probably a few that aren't. Put her in holding, we've got someone coming for her in a few hours, and please make sure somebody searches her before she's put away."

"Don't tell me how to do my job, Silverhide," said the officer, rolling his eye at Zac as the handoff was made. "I don't tell you how to bed fair maidens, do I?"

"And which one of us almost got shivved last month?" said Zac with a sneer. "It's a miracle Calista was there, that junkie almost pulled a Nobody on you."

The cyclops grumbled something rude under his breath, and escorted Miss Deeproof off without another word.

"You're welcome!" called Zac, shrugging off his coat and making his way back to his desk. Not that he was expecting much gratitude. He didn't exactly have a lot of friends in the precinct. He plopped down into his chair and sighed, hoping for his fur to dry quickly.

He had always had something of a rough time of things. Satyrs tended not to go into law enforcement, but nobody could say he hadn't worked his ass off to get where he was. Top marks in the Academy, graduated with honors, and now here he was at one of the most renowned police stations in the city, and with one of the highest arrest rates to boot. But just because you were good at your job doesn't mean they had to like you.

Luckily for Zac, being good at his job was enough for him. Most of the time.

"Nice collar, Zac," said a new voice. Zac whipped his head around, ready to bark a dismissal, but relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Didn't hear you slither in," he said, flashing her a smile.

"Heard you coming a mile away," she replied, settling down beside him in a relaxed coil. She was a lamia, stunningly gorgeous, with flowing red hair, pale green skin, and beautifully mottled scales. She was also either the best or the second-best cop in the station (both she and Zac insisted that it was the other), and the only person who didn't keep Zac at arm's length.

"Didn't get this job for my subtlety, Calista," said Zac with a shrug. "Got it for my dashing good looks and winning smile."

"Sounds about right," said Calista, shooting him a wink. "She put up much of a fight?"

"Not enough," he said. "Almost got interesting for a bit. Gods know I could use some excitement in my life."

"What, fighting crime isn't enough excitement for you?" said Calista. "Pity for you. Want to come down to the Bacchanal and have a round? My treat."

"I'll pass," said Zac. "Besides, you know that if I go, nobody else will. We shouldn't both be pariahs around here."

Calista sighed, taking a quick glance around the room. "Well, I'm sure you've got plenty going on outside of the precinct," she said.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you," said Zac, sinking into his desk with a heavy sigh.

"...Oh dear. I'm afraid to ask. Something eating you?"

"...My sister tried to set me up on a blind date."

"Oh, Zac," said Calista, head in her hands. "Please tell me you didn't accept!"

"I did," he said. "And it went okay. At first. Nice harpy girl. We even had a few things in common. But at the end of the night, she said that I was nice enough, but she just couldn't see herself in a long-term relationship with someone like me. Said she wouldn't want to 'tie me down'."

"What a bitch," said Calista. "Say the word and I'll go slash her tires."

"Still illegal."

"Curses," said Calista, sighing. "Well, she's still a bitch. So another night watching professional wrestling alone with a box of wine, then?"

"If it ain't broke," said Zac. He straightened out and gave Calista a smile. "I'll be fine, Cali. Really."

"Well, if you ever want something better to do with your evening, you can come to game night with me and Gabby. We'd be happy to have you."

"Have to pass there, too," said Zac. "I appreciate it, but I know your wife doesn't like me much."

"She just doesn't know you." Calista folded her arms and grumbled.

"Was there something in particular you needed?"

"Oh, right. The chief wanted to speak with you."

"Best not keep her waiting, then," said Zac, getting up out of his chair. "Well, you know how it is. You have a good evening now, alright?"

"You too, Zac. I mean it."

Zac shot her a thumbs up as he made his way over to the chief's office. He didn't bother knocking. It was dimly lit, as usual.

"Wanted to see me, chief?" he said, pulling up a chair.

"Heard you brought in Deeproot," the chief replied, in her low rasp. "Good work there, Silverhide." She leaned forward, idly feeding a bit of jerky to one of her snakes. Chief Stheno was a stern-faced gorgon, tall and rail-thin, peering at him from behind a pair of thick prescription sunglasses that prevented any unfortunate accidents. Depetrification was an expensive procedure, after all.

"All in a day's work," said Zac, slouching over his seat and flashing a rakish smile.

"For you, maybe," said the chief. "Would it kill you to leave a little work for the rest of the precinct?"

"Not my fault if they can't keep up," said Zac, throwing up his hands. "But I'm guessing you didn't call me in here to give me a pat on the head."

"Only because you'd like it too much," said the chief, sliding a folder across the table. "I've got a case I want you to work."

Zac scooped it up and thumbed through it. "Eight assault cases over the past month," he read. "Perp probably used their bare hands. Victims are all male, variable species, age range between 22 and 36, and unmarried." He read down a bit further. "Wait, none of them are in critical condition? Not even hospitalized? Then why haven't any of them identified the perp?"

"That's the thing," said the chief. "Each and every one of them either failed to or refused. They wouldn't even work with our sketch artist. It was almost like they were embarrassed."

Zac gave his head a curious scratch. "So why do you want me on this one?" he said. "Doesn't seem like that high a priority."

"Our latest vic was the mayor's nephew," said the chief. She sighed. "I know, I know, but we've got people breathing down our throats to get this settled quietly. And I want you on this because... well, call it a hunch. Addresses and phone numbers are in the file. Consider this your top priority until further notice."

"Whatever you say, chief," said Zac, standing up and stretching. "I'll get right on it."

"Go home and get some sleep first. That's an order. And then get right on it."

~*~

The first five people he called told him to fuck off. Some said it in more polite ways than others did, but the answers all amounted to "fuck off" once you translated them. Number six was when he hit paydirt. The young man agreed to meet with him.

The Bacchanal was pretty quiet during the day, so it was the perfect place. The victim was a slightly-built young satyr by the name of Alec, who was sporting a mother of a black eye. He fidgeted uneasily as he picked at a platter of their famous stuffed grape leaves.

"Look, it's okay," said Zac. "It's just the two of us here, alright? No badges, no interview rooms. I just want to know what happened so I can help."

Alec swallowed heavily and sighed. "It's like... I know what people say about us," he said. "I broke up with my boyfriend a few months ago and I haven't been back in the game for a while, but I've still got needs. You know how it is."

Zac nodded sagely and gestured for him to go on. He did know how it was.

"So I put out an ad looking for some casual encounters," he went on. "I never misled anyone, I was clear about what I was looking for! Just some fun, y'know? And I brought my own protection and everything. So someone answered we met at this bar downtown, Little Tartarus. It's kind of a dive, but I didn't want to be too picky."

"I know of it," said Zac. "Kind of a shithole."

"It really is," said Alec with a shrug. "But that's where she wanted to meet, and... well. We... did some stuff. I thought it was nice enough, but afterwards she was like, 'Was that it?'"

"Uhhuh," said Zac, making a big show of taking notes. In actuality, he was working on his grocery list. "What happened next?"

"I was angry is what happened," he said. "I, um, said that if she was going to be like that then I could do a lot better anyway. And I might have, um, called her something... kind of unflattering. Something I'd rather not repeat."

"And then she punched you in the face?" said Zac, nodding along. That tracked.

"And then she punched me in the face."

"Can you describe her?" said Zac, taking some actual notes now. "Would you be able to identify her if you saw her again?"

"No trouble at all," said Alec. "I mean, how many minotaurs do you see nowadays?"

Zac paused in mid-note, looking up at her. "...She was a minotaur?"

"Hard to mistake them for anyone else," he said.

That was certainly interesting. Minotaurs were one of the scarcest peoples in the country, and they tended to be very insular, sticking to their own communities. If one had been going around assaulting people, then Zac would have thought it would get around.

"Show me where you placed this ad," said Zac. "And, little life tip? Think twice before opening your mouth."

~*~

Little Tartarus was, indeed, a shithole. And what's more, aside from Alec, three of the other assaults occurred in regions that were within a block of the place. With Alec's guidance, he put together an ad that hit all of the right notes. He didn't have to wait for long before he got a promising reply.

He'd dressed the part of someone cruising for a casual fling, wearing an open-chested floral shirt and loose-fitting shorts. This wasn't his beat, so he wouldn't be made as a cop around these parts. So now all he had to do was wait.

Zac sat at the counter, nursing a glass of watered-down ouzo and doing just that, idly wondering about this mysterious minotaur and her motives. It had all the markings of a crime of passion, but nobody felt that passionate about random strangers. Too much of this didn't make sense.

Zac's phone suddenly buzzed, and he looked down at it. There was a short message displayed: "meet me out back." Zac nodded, paid the bartender, and made his way out.

It was a cloudless evening, and the moon was bright above, bathing the streets in dim light. Zac went around to the back of the bar, off the beaten path. Nobody was around.

"Anyone there?" he called out. "I got your message."

"You don't look like much," said a new voice, gruff and husky but with a distinctly feminine edge. Zac turned around to see a figure stepping out of the shadows.

The first thing that stood out to Zac was her size. He was tall for a satyr, and she still towered over him. She had to be close to seven feet tall, built heavily, with thick limbs, a broad barrel chest, and wide, curvy hips, and she was dressed lightly in cutoff jeans, a muscle shirt, and a denim vest. she stepped into the light proper, he could see her features properly. Rounded bovine snout. Big dark eyes. Long ears and short, curved horns. And her head and shoulders were covered with light brown fur that trailed down her back.

"Hmm," she said, folding her arms over her tight chest. "Not bad, not bad. I've done better, but it's your lucky night. I'll give you a chance."

"Give me a chance for what, hmm?" said Zac, trying not to think of the fact that she could probably toss him like a rag doll.

"To satisfy me, of course," she said, grinning. "That's what you're here for, right?"

"That shouldn't be hard for a nice-looking girl like you," he said, laying on the charm as thick as he could.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you," she said, snorting dismissively. "In times past, I'd have had people beating down my door for the privilege. My ancestors were warriors and chieftans."

"Must have been nice." Zac started to back away slowly. He didn't know much about history, as it related to minotaurs or otherwise, but he wanted her to keep on talking.

"I don't doubt that it was," she said, shrugging. "But since a harem of willing consorts is somewhat hard to come by these days, I suppose you'll have to do."

"I'm flattered," said Zac, nodding eagerly. "So, your place or mine, then?"

"Right here will do," she said, leering at him as she leaned against the wall.

"Here? Like, here here?" Zac backed up as she loomed. "You don't want to have dinner first, maybe get a few drinks?"

"I'm here for one thing and one thing only," she said, getting closer and closer. "And you had better deliver it. There is a deep thirst inside of me, and nobody has been able to properly quench it."

That sounded disturbingly familiar. But this wasn't the time for reflection. "Nobody?" she said. "So you've tried before?"

"Again and again and again," she said, baring her teeth. "They all talked a big game. They all thought they were gods incarnate. But each and every one of them left me wanting. And then they had the gall to complain about it! Oh, I don't know what you're on about, I had a great time!" Now she slammed a fist into the wall, knocking away a chunk of concrete.

"That must have made you mad," said Zac. "Really, really mad."

"You have no idea," she said, her nostrils flaring. Zac could almost swear that he saw steam. "It made me so mad that I could...!"

"You could what?"

She hesitated for a moment, looking down at him. "...Who are you, really?" she said.

Zac met her eyes, unflinching. "Your new best friend if you want this to go smoothly," he said. "Why don't you come with me and we'll talk?"

The next thing he Zac knew, he was flung aside as she grabbed a handful of his shirt, tugging him hard against the wall.

"I should have known," she said, pinning him against the wall, her breathing heavy. "Nobody but a cop would have thought they could get away with that shirt."

"I think this shirt brings out my eyes, actually," he said, giving her a wink. The minotaur stomped on the ground, and he could feel the vibrations in his skull.

"You don't know what it's like," she said, hissing at him. "I tried playing nice! I tried doing things the old fashioned way! But I'm so gods-damned frustrated that I can barely see straight on most days!" She swung a fist at him, and Zac, no longer having the pretense of needing to play harmless, ducked down and rolled out of the way.

"Frustrated?" said Zac, pulling himself back up. "Are you telling me that all of this is just so you can get laid?"

"Don't you dare belittle me!" she snarled, her eyes practically flashing with rage as she lunged forward. Zac saw an opportunity and he took it. She was as strong as - not to put too fine a point on it - a bull, but for all her talk about her ancestors, she didn't know how to fight. One well-placed sweep of his leg brought her to the ground, and Zac quickly planted his knee into her back, pinning her there.

The next words out of his mouth should have been 'You're under arrest', but they weren't. Her words were resonating inside of his head. You don't know what it's like.

"What's your name?" he said, not releasing the pressure.

"Fuck you."

"You know, that must be a really common name in this city, I meet people with it all the time." He sighed. "I'm going to let you up. Please don't run and please don't take a swing, because otherwise this is going to end badly for you, okay?"

Zac did as promised, and slowly, the minotaur woman got to her feet and brushed herself off.

"...Greta," she said. "My name's Greta."

"I'm Zac." He offered her a hand. "Why don't we go somewhere and talk? No cuffs, no badges, just you and me and some coffee."

Greta cocked her head, giving him a strange look. "...Why are you doing this?"

"I'm not sure yet. I'm going to need some coffee if I want to figure that out."

Now Greta laughed a short, gruff laugh. "Why not, then. I can still probably take you."

"Keep telling yourself that."

~*~

There was a small donut chain not far from where they were located. The coffee was terrible, but it was hot. Zac considered Greta as the two of them sat across from each-other, sizing her up. Now that she wasn't actively coming onto him, she seemed a lot less intimidating.

"Don't expect my life story," she said, shrugging as she sipped her coffee. She took it black.

"You say that I like I have the time for it," said Zac, sampling his. It had hazelnut cream and way too much sugar.

"It's hard enough living somewhere where there's almost nobody else like you," she said, making an all-encompassing gesture. And that was accurate. Greta was certainly the first minotaur Zac had ever met in the flesh.

"And you know what? I'm used to it," she went on. "This city isn't even the worst place I've ever lived. Nobody's openly hostile to me. Just subtly prejudiced. I've been dealing with that all my life."

Zac snorted. He knew that song and dance well enough. Satyrs weren't a minority around here, but they had a reputation that they could never truly shake, and that hit him especially hard.

"But there's only so much a person can take. It was just a little dry spell at first, but then it turned into a gods-damned drought!" She groaned, putting a hand on her forehead. "I haven't had an orgasm that I didn't give myself in almost a year!"

Zac couldn't help himself. He burst out laughing. Greta gave him a look like she was about to deck him again.

"So you beat all those guys up because they couldn't get you off," he said. "Shit, no wonder none of them wanted to report a crime!"

Greta's features softened. Now she started to laugh along too.

"At least you're getting something," Zac went on. "Fuck, I haven't even had someone between my sheets in the better part of six months. My hand's about to file a restraining order."

"Really?" said Greta, sounding genuinely surprised. "Someone like you?"

Now it was Zac's turn to give her a look. She blushed slightly as she realized how her words sounded and corrected herself.

"Someone so good looking, I mean."

"Yeah, well, looks aren't everything," said Zac with a shrug. "Especially when your reputation tends to scare potential partners off. Even if they don't think I'm going to ravage them in their sleep, they're not prepared to deal with... certain aspects of myself."

Greta looked Zac up and down, sizing him up. Then she brought a hand around and cupped his groin, causing him to yelp.

"Hey, what's the big-"

"Maybe we can help each-other out," she said, lowering her voice. "You want something. I want something. We're both desperate. Maybe we both have something that the other's lacking."

Zac's first instinct was to turn her down. If the chief learned that he spent the night with a person of interest in an ongoing case, she'd tan his hide. But on the other hand...

Well, first of all, Greta really was a whole lot of woman, from her tight, muscular chest to her shapely hips. And secondly, satyrs' reputation as being insatiable horndogs had a kernel of truth to it. Just because he had gotten used to solitude didn't mean that his considerable libido was leaving him alone.

"...Only if you promise not to turn violent on me if it doesn't go well, because I'm telling you, I have no shame and I will arrest you."

~*~

Greta booked them a room in a nearby motel. The decor was about four decades out of style, but the beds were big and the rooms were clean. Greta had gone to get herself cleaned up, and Zac sat on the bed, covered with nothing but a bedsheet, wondering over and over again if he was making a big mistake.

He almost definitely was. But Zac Silverhide was not the sort of man to back down from a bad idea.

The door to the bathroom opened, and Greta stepped out, completely nude and toweling herself off, and Zac got a chance to see her in all her glory.

Her breasts were quite compact, her chest being mostly thick muscle. That might have put some people off, but Zac had always been more of an ass man, and she more than made up for it in that department, having a thick, shapely bubble butt that lit a fire inside of Zac almost immediately. And sure enough, he began to pitch a tent.

"Alright then," she said, approaching him with intent. "If we're going to do this, then let's see what you're-- by the gods!"

She tore the sheet away, and her jaw almost hit the ground, as Zac's blessing and his curse sprang to life. It really had been awhile, and Zac had swollen up to full mast almost as soon as he saw Greta naked. His cock throbbed at its full length of about twelve inches, give or take, and incredibly thick.

"Meet the monster," said Zac, giving it a flick. "Most people who get this far suddenly remember that they have an appointment."

"I'm not most people," said Greta, leaning in and wrapping one of her enormous hands around it, stroking gently. Zac shuddered at the first intimate touch he'd received in months, and he silently prayed for the fortitude to not blow his wad right here and now.

"Well then," said Greta, climbing up onto the bed. "Let's get right to it, shall we?"

"Hold the phone here," said Zac, pushing her away softly. Not that he could move her if she didn't want to be moved. "You want more than just a fuck, you want to get off. And if that's going to happen, we need to approach this from a different angle. Sit up here and spread your legs, would you?"

Greta suddenly blushed, getting his intent immediately. "You mean you want to do... that to me?"

It took everything Zac had to not laugh again, but this wouldn't be the time. "Are you telling me that nobody has ever gone down on you before?" The minotaur shook her head. "You poor girl. I apologize on the behalf of every partner you've ever had, and I have a lot to make up for. Spread those legs and please try not to crush my head."

Without another word, Greta let those thick thighs part, letting him get a good look at her. Her fur grew into a thick tuft around her pussy, neatly framing it. Her nether lips were thick, pink, and puffy, protruding outward. As he spread her open with his fingers, a heady aroma filled the air. She was positively soaking wet, her fluids dripping down onto the sheets as he held her open.

"Want me to be gentle?" Zac asked. "This might be a little intense."

"Absolutely not. Now show me if that mouth is good for anything besides talking."

That was that, then. Everyone thought that satyrs were sex fiends. What very few non-satyrs bothered to learn was that, while they tended to enjoy sex very much, nothing was more important to them than mutual pleasure. If your partner wasn't having fun, then what was even the point?

What this meant in practical terms was that Zac could eat pussy like a champion, and even though it had been some time since he had been able to ply that art, some things were never forgotten. And as he started to run his tongue across her prominent lips, it didn't take her long to react.

"Oh gods," she groaned, gripping the bed frame. "What... are you doing down there?"

Assuming that the question was rhetorical, Zac kept at it, slowly licking her up and down, keeping a steady rhythm. As he steadily licked, he brought his fingers up and began to gently probe her passage with two of them, and he could feel how wet she really was. His fingers slid right in without any resistance. He heard Greta take in a short, sharp breath.

It sounded like she was enjoying the appetizer. It was time to bring the main course. He spread her open as wide as he could, revealing her swelling clit. He gave it a little tickle with a fingertip, and felt her muscles tighten up.

"Too much?" he inquired, looking up.

"Shut up and keep doing that, please!"

Zac knew when to listen to feedback. He continued to gently rub her clit with one hand and slowly fingerfuck her with another, and he could feel her pussy contracting. He knew it was time to go in for the kill. He started to pump his fingers faster as he leaned in to run his tongue over her pearl, swirling it around in little circles, and he could hear her cries reach a fever pitch. He kept this rhythm up as he built things up, making sure to keep his rhythm steady, until finally, when he heard her take in a deep breath, he plunged his fingers into her deeper, feeling around for a very special spot and rubbing it hard, and then...

Greta let out a sound that could only be called a bellow that rang in Zac's ears. Her pussy began to bulge and pulsage, sending spurt after spurt of fragrant juices directly into Zac's face as she buckled and writhed, making the bed frame creak where she was squeezing it. Zac continued to draw out her pleasure as long as he could, rubbing her gently until he could feel her spasms begin to die down, and only then did he pull back. Greta was splayed out, her chest heaving and her eyes half-lidded.

"Are you okay there," said Zac, wiping his face off on a bit of dry sheet. "Blink twice if you're still alive."

"So long," said Gerat, in a far-away voice. "It's been so long..."

"Glad to help," said Zac, patting her on the thigh. "Look, maybe those guys had it coming and maybe they didn't, but if you promise to lay off the violence a bit, I can probably smooth this over. You can use the room for the rest of the night, and I'll just-"

As he got up, Greta grabbed his wrist and held him in place.

"You have done me a great service," said Greta. "I will not let you leave this place unsatisfied." And then she pulled him to her and kissed him hungrily, and Zac was powerless to resist. Not that he wanted to resist.

"Lie down," she said, and Zac did so, his cock once again standing up like a flagpole. Greta ran a finger down his shaft, causing him to shiver, before straddling him and lining him up with her entrance. He could feel droplets of her arousal dripping down onto him.

"You've done enough," she said, grinning at him. "It's my turn to pull my weight."

"Just be careful," said Zac. "You don't need to try and- oooooh!"

Without giving him a chance to prepare, Greta started to lower herself down onto him, her pussy engulfing his member greedily, and little by little, she took in more and more. Every time he thought she was going to hesitate, she just kept on going.

Sex with other races was a difficult prospect for Zac. Not impossible, but difficult. He knew how to make a partner feel good without hurting them, if given a chance, but there was a part of him that he always needed to hold back. There was a bit less trepidation with other satyrs, but even then, there was a bit of a challenge. But this... he'd never done anything like this before.

The next thing he knew, he was completely rooted in Greta, and she was... smiling. She almost looked content.

"Gods," she moaned, wiggling her hips from side to side. "I've never felt so full before! It's incredible..."

Zac wanted to reply, he wanted to say something, but all he could manage was a half-coherent moan, as he felt himself assaulted on every front by wonderful wet heat.

"I've had... a lot of dicks in me," moaned Greta. "But this one... fuck, this one is just the best! I never want it to be out of me!"

"I'm going to... have to get up to use the bathroom, eventually," said Zac, through gritted teeth. Greta laughed.

"Asshole."

"Bitch."

And with that, she planted herself down and began to ride him, lifting and dropping, slowly and steadily. With every descent, he could feel her amazingly shapely ass rub against him. He could barely do much more than wriggle beneath her, but he didn't care. She was making him feel things that he hadn't felt in what felt like an eternity.

"Fuck!" she groaned, shifting up her position a bit, leaning forward and planting her arms on the bed. "Fuck, it feels so fucking good!"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" said Zac, who couldn't stop himself if he tried.

"Maybe I'll go kiss yours."

"She'd probably like that."

Now the two of them laughed, and as Greta picked up her pace, the laughs turned into moans. In truth, Zac had never felt anything like this before either, and he wanted it to last forever. Unfortunately, he was still getting off of a dry spell, and there was only so much he could do.

"Nngh... fuck, Greta, I'm... I'munna... "

"I know," she groaned. "Me too! I can feel it! Come on, do it! Do it! Come... for me! Do it... nnngAAGHH!" And with that, she slammed her hips against his hard enough to make the bed creak as her pussy started to gush once again, and Zac, in turn, felt his cock throb as he blew the biggest load of his entire life inside of her, so hard and intense that he could see his seed gushing out of her pussy and mingling with her own fluids. She rode it out until the sensations became too much, and she slid off of his softening cock, landing beside him with a heavy thump and pulling them together into a gasping pile, their skin flushed and slick with sweat, as well as a melange of other fluids.

"Thank you," she said, catching her breath. "That was... amazing."

"You weren't... so bad yourself," he said, reaching down and giving her butt a squeeze.

"Gods, you really can't turn it off, can you?"

"Yeah, well... you can't... turn off your... your... fuck."

"That's what I thought," said Greta, patting him on the head. "You up for round two?"

"Maybe after I can feel my legs again."

~*~

They had just finished with round four - or possibly five, Zac had lost count - when they finally collapsed from exhaustion. When Zac woke up, he was alone in the bed. That was probably the best he could have hoped for. He showered, got dressed, enjoyed a below-average continental breakfast, and checked out.

When he got back to the precinct, he told the chief a bald-faced lie for the first (and, gods willing, last) time in his career. Nobody had talked to him, and there wasn't enough to go on. There was nothing for it at this point except wait for another attack and hope for the best.

And since Zac was reasonably certain that there wouldn't be another attack, that settled it. The case would go cold and more than likely never be solved, Greta would get on with her life and he would get on with his, and everything would just be peachy. Both of them got something that they needed desperately, and now they could merrily never think about each-other again.

Perfect.

~*~

"We need to talk."

Zac's head lifted up from his desk, where he hadn't been sleeping at all, and saw a very annoyed lamia looking him in the eye.

"What is it?" he said, rubbing the tension out of his stiff neck.

"I know something's been bothering you," she said. "Never mind the fact that you've been on desk duty for the past few months. Everyone needs a break once in a while."

"Yes, they do, so I don't see how that's any of your-"

"And never mind how you've canceled every engagement we've made in the past few weeks, because you know what, you do your own thing on the best of days."

"Are you going somewhere with this or just dragging me?"

"Little bit of both," said Calista, planting her elbow on Zac's desk and leaning into her hand. "My point is, do you know how I know something's wrong? I know something's wrong because Officer Adamos called you a goatfucker for exposing the evidence he falsified and you didn't snipe back at him."

Zac's ears suddenly perked up. "He did?"

"This is what I mean," said Calista, putting a hand on Zac's shoulder. "Something's been driving you mad and I want to help."

Zac sighed. "I appreciate it, Cali, but this isn't really something that you can-"

Calista banged her hand onto Zac's desk. When she pulled it away, there was a stained sticky note on the table. It had an address on it, and a name.

"Margareta Thunderstep," Zac read. He stared at it for a few moments, unsure of what it meant, until something finally clicked into place. "How did you-"

"You've been sulky ever since that assault case went cold," said Calista, dropping her voice. "I knew something was fucky about it, but I didn't press it, because I trusted you. And I wasn't going to say anything. But this has clearly been tearing you up."

"That doesn't explain how you found this. I mean, how did you even know that-"

"Swiped your phone while you were in the shitter the other day and snooped your search history," said Calista, shrugging. "You checked the precinct database and the census and found nothing. But I know a guy. I'm not going to tell you who they are, but let's just say that we're even for the time you covered for me at the Policeman's Ball."

"We're definitely even," said Zac, still not taking his eyes off the note. "...There's no way that this is a good idea, you know."

"Oh, absolutely not. But you need closure, Zac. This woman got into your head. Even if this ends badly, you need it to end. Now get out of here. I already told the chief that you're cashing in some long overdue vacation days."

Zac nodded, springing out of his chair.

"Thank you, Calista," he said, kissing his friend on the forehead.

"Get on with it, goatfucker," said Calista, giving him a shove. "Maybe have a shave first, though."

~*~

It was an unassuming tenement hall that was on the edge of the rough part of town but not quite there. It was the sort of place you lived if you wanted to keep a low profile.

Zac stood in front of the door that matched the one on the sticky note, trying to steel himself. He'd gone on drug busts that didn't leave him feeling this nervous, and there was a very real possibility of getting stabbed by a crackhead on those. He was pretty sure this wouldn't happen here.

Calista had been right, though. He couldn't move on until he got closure, and he wouldn't get that if he walked away now. So he knocked.

After a moment, he heard the telltale sound of a peephole door being opened, followed by a lock being undone. The door opened a crack with the deadbolt still latched, and one big, dark eye stared out at him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Tell me to fuck off and you'll never see me again," said Zac. "I swear it. But I can't leave things the way we did. I have to know something. Can I come in?"

Greta hesitated, not quite able to meet his gaze. "Answer the question," she said. "We had a good fuck and that was that. What else do you want?"

"We had an amazing fuck, but that's not why I'm here," said Zac. "I'm here because I felt something when I met you. Not to put too fine a point on it, but you're one hardcore bitch."

"Uhhuh?"

"You did more than just give me a good roll in the hay," said Zac. "You excite me, Greta. I want to come along for the ride just to see what crazy shit you get me in next. Tell me that you don't feel the same way and I promise I'll move on with my life. But I have to know for sure."

Greta didn't answer right away. But nor did she close the door.

"...If you come in, you might not want to stick around afterwards," she said. "Things are complicated."

"I live for complicated," said Zac, grinning at her. Greta sighed. The door shut, and the deadbolt was unlatched. Zac came in, and he saw her, the same as he remembered, but different. The hard body, thick limbs, and incredible ass were just the same as they had been all those months ago.

The enormous round swelling of her belly, which was barely covered by the white tank top she wore, was definitely new.

"It's yours," she said, before he could say anything. "It's definitely yours."

"It's huge," said Zac, jaw on the floor. "How? It can't have been more than four months!"

"Minotaur calves grow fast," she said, folding her arms over her chest. "I was prepared to deal with it, you know. I had made peace with this. I'm keeping it and I'm going to raise them right, with or without you. So tell me, ifs this really the sort of 'crazy shit' you want to get into?"

Zac hesitated for a moment, his heart racing. He looked up into her face, and while she was still wearing her perpetual scowl, there was a subtle softness behind her eyes.

"...May I?" he said, holding out his hand. Taken aback, as if not anticipating the question, she nodded. Zac stepped forward, running his hand over the domed surface of her taut belly, and as his fingers made contact, he felt a shiver down his spine.

"I don't know what you want this to be," he said. "If anything. Maybe I'm off-base here. But it could be something."

"We barely know each-other," said Greta. "For all we know, this could be a disaster waiting to happen."

"Won't know that until it happens," said Zac, grinning at her. "What, all of a sudden you're too much of a wuss to take a risk?"

Greta lunged forward, hooking her hands under Zac's armpits and lifting him up until they were eye to eye.

"You really are a grade-A dick, you know that?"

"You didn't seem to have any complaints about the grade of my dick."

Greta let out a laugh and kissed him hard. Then she hoisted him up further, throwing him over her shoulder.

"Bedroom. Now. My hormones have been going crazy and I've already burned out my favorite vibrator."

And as she carried him off, Zac felt a thrill that he hadn't known his life had been missing. Things couldn't get better than this.

~*~

Or maybe they could. The months soared by quickly. Greta had moved into Zac's house (which was too big for him alone anyway, he only stayed there because his grandmother had left it to him), and they made things work, in their own strange way. And now...

"FUCK!"

Greta let out a roar as she gripped the iron bar set into the doorframe, planting her legs wide apart. She was naked as the day she was born and every inch of her was slick with sweat. Zac was nearby, trying his best to keep anything she could throw out of her grip.

"That was a hard one, huh?" he said, wiping his own brow. She had been in labor for a little over sixteen hours now. Zac didn't know if that was normal for a minotaur, but the last time he'd suggested going to a hospital, she'd snarled at him. This baby was coming out on her terms or not at all. All Zac could do was be there for her and get her whatever she demanded. Which was mostly things like cold water and backrubs. But occasionally something else came up.

"Fuck," she groaned, rubbing her belly idly as she caught her breath. "It's not gonna be long now. Touch me."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Did I fucking stutter?" she said, her nostrils flaring. She widened her stance a bit, displaying her gaping pussy to him. "Fucking touch me already!"

Zac bit back a sharp reply. There was a time and a place for that sort of thing. Planting himself between her legs, he inserted two fingers into her and started to rub, making rapid-fire motions. She let out a long, appreciative groan as he worked her up, and soon he could feel her vaginal muscles squeezing him as she rode out another contraction.

"That's it, keep going, keep going," she panted. "Nngh... I feel it... it's... fuck!" With another cry, she crouched slightly, just as her nethers bulged outward and an enormous gush of fluids jetted out, soaking her groin and thighs, as well as Zac. As he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, he made a mental note to not let her live this down. But again, not the time.

"Fucking gods," she groaned. "Baby's... so fucking big! Why does your baby have to be so fucking big?"

"Oh, it's my baby now, is it?" said Zac. "So are you going to keep shit-talking me or are you going to push?"

"I can... do both!" And with a primal roar, she bore down, her belly going rock-hard from the effort. Zac was glad he had warned the neighbors already, because there was no way that his walls were thick enough to muffle this. "It's coming!" she snapped. "Keep rubbing me!"

As instructed, Zac dutifully worked her clit as she grunted and groaned and howled her way through her labor, working her baby down one excruciating inch a time. But after nearly an hour of this, something began to happen.

"I can see it now," said Zac, as her lips began to part once again. "It's coming out!"

"Do you think I don't know that?" Greta hissed, bracing herself hard. "I can feel that big coconut head of hers stretching me open! Fuck, it burns!"

"Well, it's too late to stop now, she's not going back in. So just keep pushing!"

"I AM PUSHING, YOU GOAT-FACED BASTARD!"

"Then push better! Are those muscles just for show? Put some effort into it already!"

And Greta let out a roar that made Zac's ears ring as she pushed with all her might, pulling the steel bar so hard that it actually started to bend, as her baby slipped out further and further, until it finally slipped out, landing safely in Zac's hands. Sighing immensely, Greta sank down onto the floor, and Zac passed the wriggling calf into her arms. And time froze for a moment, as the two of them admired the product of their bizarre relationship that, somehow, they made work.

Then she began to wail, and time began to move once again. Greta laughed and clutched the newborn to her chest.

"Heh. She's got your eyes."

"And your lungs. She's perfect."

"Despite your best efforts, yeah. I'd say so."

"Love you, bitch."

"Love you too, asshole."