Retribution
#2 of Personal Stories
Things were different in the old days.
People believed in the Gods and their divine punishment. There was awe and fear, respect for the unknown and the other worldly. Perhaps the Gods weren't always paying attention to the exact details of what was going on in the world below them, but people believed they had a vague idea. An inkling, as it were, of things that needed to be taken care of. They just didn't always bother to take care of it.
So society created law enforcement and things to that effect. Sometimes judgment was quick, the criminals dealt with swiftly, remorselessly. In some places, trials were held, slow procedures that could take years to ever come to a conclusion. Still in other gatherings, felons would be imprisoned, in the hopes of rehabilitation. The idea was the same across all of these, that the one committing a wrong should be punished in some way, taught the consequences of actions.
Another - and less acceptable - form of retribution was to let the wronged party take revenge. While frowned upon, and certainly unusual, this system had its merits, and was no less effective than any of the other methods available.
Back in the old days, people believed in myths, because myths were real.
Three men, each trapped in their own metal cage, stood awaiting the outcome of their fate. Hoodlums by birth, trouble makers by nature, the three found each other roaming the streets, nicking food from the open markets and hiding in the back alleys to enjoy their gains. Originally, each of them stole only what they needed to survive, but things changed very quickly when they finally banded together.
They say fear disappears with greater numbers. Certainly, with these intrepid thieves, such was the case. Survival became greed, and greed became a need for power. Their first "major theft", about three months after forming their group, was a shopkeeper's safe. Petty to most, they felt energized with their success, hungering for bigger and better things. Eventually, they managed to find their way into the house of the wealthy, doing their best to grab a bar of gold or some jewelry. More often than not they were scared off by the slightest sounds, but they bragged about their triumphs anyway. They were doing more than surviving at that point, anyway. They were living the good crook's life.
That is, until they walked into the house of the senator Stavros Ovis. Like every senator before and after him, Stavros was wealthy to the point of obscenity. And he had a rather voluptuous daughter, about as sweet and innocent as they come. She dressed appropriately enough for her social status, and spent much of her time indoors. A beauty at 18, she was waiting for the right marriage to earn her and her father another fortune.
Of course, hot blooded men don't care for politics and the implications of their actions, and ruffians care even less. These men in particular, the oldest of the three age 21, and the youngest a tender 19, were overcome with desire upon the site of her. She lay prone on her bed, clad in the silk sheets that nestled over her slumbering body. And so, deciding that the real treasure in the house was this beauty, this innocent lamb of a girl, they positioned one as a watch, and proceeded to rape her. Her screams muffled with a gag, they took turns relieving themselves with her body, years of tension released in a few heated moments of sex.
If they'd had any sense in them, they would have either taken the girl with them, or killed her on the spot. But these weren't the worst of criminals, these were simply boys overcome with lust, a thirst they had never quenched properly. And so they left the poor girl, crying into her pillow as they tied up their belts and snuck out through the window.
She told her father Stavros everything the next morning, and then killed herself, as was the honorable thing to do.
The rapists spent the next month unaware of anything, street rats eking out an existence. But sex and desire are powerful forces, and soon they found themselves recalling that magical night, and the object of their lust. So they agreed that a second visit was in order, and they headed out in the dead of the night, back to the Ovis estate. Without even changing their original route, they entered through the same window, walking the halls liked they owned the place, opened the door to her room, and almost immediately heard the clang of metal hitting stone. Rats, trapped in a cage.
Well, none of them were actually rats, though the oldest among them, Cassius Lupus, sort of had the hungry expression of one. The gray wolf's head constantly turned on his pudgy neck, hungrily sniffing his surroundings for food, or the touches of wealth. He claimed that he was orphaned because his family wasn't willing to spend any money on another son, but nobody knew if this was fiction or fact, and they didn't really care. Cassius, a pile of fat and greed, was the self-proclaimed leader of the group. His was the mind that decided that they were going to do something, and the consequences be damned.
Without Marcus Ursa, though, Cassius would probably have ended up a prisoner or dead by now. For a bear, malnourished Marcus didn't look anything like the rest of his species, but his brain outclassed many. A planner and thinker, Marcus tagged along for survival over personal interest, recognizing that strength in numbers meant another day of life. His occasionally philosophical outlook often resulted in him getting a smaller share of the rations, but he never protested, though he may have never noticed.
Thanks to Julius Vulpus, the trio actually succeeded. A man of action, the fox knew how to play the part he was given, and his lithe build made him ideal for sneaking, quick pocketing, or any of the other thief's tasks. Julius acted without questioning, seemingly a shell waiting for the command of his masters. Marcus suspected that if they were to abandon Julius one day, the fox would simply sit around, waiting for somebody to come up to him and instruct him on what to do next. Julius knew no good or evil, only performance, and how to be the best at those little acts.
All separated by bars, yet close to each other, their distinctive personalities were almost comical to watch. Julius just sat on the ground, staring ahead at a brick wall. It branched into two paths, forward and right, and he looked like he was torn between which path he would like to take. Marcus paced his cell, head down as he mumbled to himself, while Cassius sniffed the air, his whole body alive with nerves. Marcus' muttering only put the wolf at greater unease, but there was no point in trying to get the bear to stop.
Cassius didn't like the smell in the room. It was a combination of brick, mortar, and mold. But beneath that, there was something more pervasive in the air, hiding behind the expected. Whereas Marcus looked upwards to help pinpoint their location, Cassius used his nose. Both came to the same correct solution: they were underground. Yet only Cassius got a warning of what was to come, even if he couldn't place the exact sensation. He was getting déjà vu from the whole feeling, and wasn't fond of it.
His attention quickly shifted to the sound of a panel sliding open behind him. Cassius turned to see the face of Stavros glaring through a hole in what was previously solid wall. And while Cassius had a bad feeling from the smell, he knew factually that the malicious grin of Stavros' signified nothing good. The goat's eyes radiated vengeance, the kind that will shortly come to fruition, and upon those who can do nothing to escape it.
"Citizens," he greeted the trio formally, though technically they were never citizens by law. The needless insult didn't even phase the doomed convicts, who lived their life until now facing similar comments. Stavros shrugged and continued. "Welcome to my Labyrinth. In these tunnels, decades of slave worked ceaselessly, beginning before the birth of the republic, to create a test for criminals. If found innocent, the gods will guide them out to the exit. If guilty, then there is no hope.
"And, faithful to the stories that inspired it, a single obstacle exists to assist in your demise: the Minotaur. He's a vicious brute, or so I was told by my father, who heard from his. Scholastics can only go so far, and there is precious little research on the creature within here. The Labyrinth never saw use; the books are clear on that. You will be the first to find judgment in these walls, rapists. Now see if you can find the exit. The curses of the gods be with you." And with a final, gloating smile, Stavros shut the panel.
The cages rose high enough for the three captives to exit their prisons easily. Marcus, fascinated, studied the ropes that suspended the cages. Following their length, the three converged into a tiny hole well above the panel Stavros had used. The bear concluded that the ropes were on a pulley system. Satisfied with this knowledge, Marcus attempted to focus on another wonder before his eyes, that of the sliding brick panel. Before he could even reach the wall, though, Cassius was already yelling at Julius.
"Hey! Wher'd ye think yer goin'?" bellowed the wolf. From the antechamber to the maze, his yell echoed into the cavern, and somewhere it sounded like a stalactite came crashing to the ground. Julius, however, didn't even turn around to acknowledge his leader. The fox continued to walk down the straight path, looked in both directions when he hit the first wall, and turned right, disappearing from the view of his companions.
Cassius huffed and was about to shout again, but Marcus quickly urged him to be quiet. "Don't do that again!" the bear whispered. "You'll attract the Minotaur."
The wolf snorted. "Ye think Stavros meant that? S'just a myth. C'mon, yer smarter than that."
"Well, by now we've lost Julius anyway, so Minotaur or not, we'd better try and work this out together." Marcus seemed to be studying the roof, as if the solution lay there. "Maybe the path of the stalactites help determine the direction that one has to take... or perhaps there is some kind of trick on the walls...." As he mused this aloud, Cassius lost patience, and simply took the first left that presented itself in the path. By the time Marcus even noticed he was alone, the clicking of nails against floor were already out of ear shot, and there wasn't a foot print in sight. Sighing, Marcus began his journey by taking the same right that Julius had taken.
Cassius did his best to let his senses guide him. Every so often, he would get a whiff of fresh air blowing from one direction, but when he turned that way, the smell was gone, or was now coming from behind him. His ears didn't help him all that much, either. He tried to see if he could hear Julius or Marcus, but he had enough trouble hearing his own footsteps. They seemed muted, which he thought was somewhat odd in such a big place. He blamed the brick walls, and cursed them for dulling his senses. He threw in some curses for Stavros, and ended with a couple for useless gods.
The wolf really didn't know anything about his own world outside of what he could feel. For the first time in his life, he began to think ahead, planning his own revenge. Whatever laws were, Cassius had a hunch that taking punishment into one's own hands was against those laws. When he got out, Cassius planned to make a point of having Stavros thrown into the Labyrinth. Wouldn't that just fit the crime perfectly, the wolf growled.
Directions stopped mattering about the same time he stopped trusting his senses. A left, then a right, a left, another left. He could have been going in circles for all he knew. The ceiling seemed so uniform and the walls the same colours that he couldn't even begin to try using landmarks. Every time he came to another dead end, he swore loudly, a hollow echo sounding in his ears. After the eighth time of this, he leaned against the wall, exhausted. He was panting heavily, his weight enfeebling whatever movements he could still make. He'd barely been going for three hours, but already he was sure this was the end as his body slid down the wall until his butt was on the ground.
With his head slumped forward, and in a semi-hallucinatory state caused by dehydration, Cassius imagined for a moment that he heard hooves clicking. Too wiped to even check what it really was, the pudgy wolf continued to sit there, hoping to pass out. He felt something tilting his head up, something with fingers, but his stubborn eyes refused to open. Then those same fingers were on his robes, and lifting him to his feet. The sensation of having nothing under him immediately snapped him to attention, and when his eyes opened, they dilated from fear.
Face to face with the Minotaur, Cassius' mouth went dry. Details flooded the poor wolf's mind: that the creature holding him must have been eight feet tall, the curved horns projecting from the bull-like head, the flat wet nose at the end of the muzzle, and empty green eyes that seemed to suck the world into them, but never reached the brain. Glancing down, the body changed from a furred head neatly to a smooth, taught tanned skin, stretched over an impossibly large physique. Cassius couldn't even see past the Minotaur's chest, and he wasn't sure he wanted to, either.
A blast of something strong and musky hit the wolf in the nose. He coughed, breaking the tension of the moment. Watching the bulging arm slowly lower him back to the ground, Cassius could finally see the eight pack sculpted into the human torso of the creature. Below that, the legs changed back to brown fur, lightly covering thighs and ever-so-appropriately named calves, swollen with size and girth. The hooves holding up the Minotaur looked a little silly compared to the immense definition of every other part of the body.
The smell was getting stronger, and though he'd attempted not to focus on it, Cassius could no longer help himself from staring at the bull's cock. Hard and thick, and just as impressive as every other part of the body, it stood out at least 16 inches, if not longer. The large sac hung about midway down, laying against quads which were fighting for space against each other. This made the genitalia look obscenely bigger, pushed forward because of the lack of room behind the orbs. The smell got even stronger as a drop of pre seeped from the tip. With a sudden horrific realization, Cassius finally recalled why he knew the smell: it was similar to that of when he'd been raping the young Ovis, only this was much more powerful.
With a sudden twist and then a shove, the wolf felt his face pressed against the cold wall, held in place by a paw pushing him roughly against the wall. Cassius began to panic, shouting for help, for something. He begged the gods as he felt his robe rising from the bottom, exposing his legs and rump. He cried for mercy as the hot flesh pole poked against his hole, trying to swat it away with his tail. And he finally gave up, and braced for impact.
The Minotaur was anything but gentle. With a forceful thrust, the member dug into Cassius' ass, tearing flesh out of the way. The wolf, tears streaming, screamed in pain from the intrusion, expanding his virgin insides. For almost half a minute, there was no movement, save for the thrashing of Cassius. Then the Minotaur slowly began to pull himself out, and as soon as the whole length was out, he slammed it back in.
After almost half an hour, there were no more tears for Cassius to cry. His dry sobs died out, his consciousness doing its best to black out, but jolted back into reality with every hump. He was sure that it was his blood, mixed with copious amounts of precum, that he heard landing on the ground in a steady drip. Aside from the skin tearing, the wolf felt like some bones in his pelvis must have been bruised or broken. Through out the whole ordeal, the Minotaur was lowing, but never once tenderly stroked the wolf, never softly nuzzled the back of his head. There was only animal lust, and an attempt to satiate it.
Finally, almost mercifully, the Minotaur hit his climax with a roar that shook Cassius to his core. As seed flooded the wolf's ass, the tears sprang anew, shame rising to his face. The surge of cum kept on flowing, but there was no leakage. It seemed to just stay in there. After over a minute of climax, the wall moved from his cut and bruised face, and his feet left the ground again. Cassius could feel what was supporting him off the ground - only the cock of the monster behind him. The thrusting began again, harder and harder.
The dulling of senses began to arise within the wolf's mind. Everything was fading to nothingness, leaving just the sensation of the dick in his ass. Sometimes, it almost felt pleasurable, despite the incredible pain, though even that was disappearing in a growing haze of enjoyment. Cassius moaned, and his rump clenched, eliciting a groan from the Minotaur. Cassius' body tightened, then tightened further.
He didn't know when, but he felt his feet touch the ground. Without the Minotaur holding him, Cassius could have run. Such an idea never presented itself into his mind. But nothing was there, except the thought of getting the Minotaur to cum again, to be filled with the hot fluid. He squeezed his ass and began to move in rhythm with the creature behind him, moaning in loud harmony with the beast, Cassius' own cock rising.
It didn't stop rising when it should have, though, and Cassius got hit by the real world like a sack of bricks. He blinked, and he could feel his body spasming, like every muscle was out of his control. He looked down, discovering a set of pecs that could have belonged on the finest statue. It was like whatever fat he previously had was melting away, dissolving and then reforming into muscle fiber. And just barely beyond them, he could see his stiffing member growing. His balls rested on his leg and were dropping lower and lower, pushed out by the swelling muscles of his thighs. The view was lost as his chest expanded with muscle to block his view, but the feeling didn't leave. His growing prick brushed up against the wall in front of him, and he groaned.
He wanted to touch himself, feel if this was real. The sensation of it was fantastic as he put a paw to his chest, warmth flooding from it as it pumped with blood and size. His biceps bulged, and his shoulders fought for room with his traps and back, keeping his arms at an angle from the ground as they hung at his sides. He lifted a leg up, and heard it click like a hoof when it touched down again, mingled with the sound of bones rubbing against each other. His muzzle flatten, nose becoming broader, almost like a bull's, he thought.
Panic returned in full force at the same time as lust. Cassius' growing cock was pulsating, throbbing for attention. He didn't want this anymore, yet he couldn't get enough of it. The panic faded into images of sex and muscle. Two bodies rubbing together, the dicks oozing pre on one another. One muscled body with a huge cock rammed up its ass. And in all the images, the couples were Minotaurs.
As the Minotaur bellowed with orgasm, the fur on Cassius' torso began to fall out, and his mind emptied of thoughts that weren't sex.
Marcus was having no more luck than Cassius. Every turn and twist lead to a dead end, or just another fork that could have been one that he'd taken before. At first, Marcus had tried to see if he could pick out specific marks in the walls and use those to tell him if he had been there before. He'd had no success with this, however, because every wall he came across looked identical to the one before it. Whoever had constructed this maze, Marcus decided, had ensured that everything was uniform to prevent people like him from using the wall as a landmark.
The bear considered at one point ripping off parts of his toga, using the scraps of cloth to keep track of his turns. He disregarded that idea at first, because he wanted to at least have some modesty if he managed to get out. There weren't any pebbles that he could find to use for a trail, nor could he scrape flecks of brick off the walls. He gave in, figuring that giving up modesty might be the only way to help him get out at this point. So he ripped off a small strip from his toga, and placed it on the ground in front of the next right fork he took.
He walked around for long enough like this that he had torn off about thirty strips, but had not once come across one that he had already left behind. It was like the dead ends disappeared, and in their place were forks that should have lead back to his previous positions, yet didn't. At one point, convinced that something was going on that was a physical impossibility, Marcus attempted to make four rights, so he would end up back where he started. But even then he found himself somewhere else, and no dirty white strip of cloth greeted him.
Hours and hours passed, and more than half the toga was ripped apart. Because of how he had been tearing it, Marcus now only had enough material to either cover his torso or wrap around his loins. He decided to just leave the toga around his chest and stomach, free balling his way through the Labyrinth now. His unimpressive frame looked like it was getting the first real serious exercise it had in months. His legs were almost twig like, thin enough that he thought he could see the bones moving as he walked. This, he knew, was unlikely, and that he must be going crazy with frustration. He had finally found a puzzle that was thwarting him. How bothersome then, he thought, that not solving it would cost him his life.
But Marcus wouldn't let a small set back like confusion get the better of him. He stopped walking, trying to come up with a new strategy for attacking the maze. Landmarks had failed him, leaving a trail had failed him. He couldn't come up with any other sensible ways of keeping track of where he was. Those two options seemed like the best methods, and neither was working. He wished he had a ball of twine, so he could hold on to it and unroll it as he moved along. Something about that idea seemed particularly appealing to him. The bear started to pace down a corridor, thinking if he could somehow use his own fur to leave a small trail.
Only when he bumped into something hot and solid did Marcus finally stop and check where he was again. He had to look up so he could see something other than a pair of jutting muscular pecs, to see the glazed green eyes of the Minotaur looking down at Marcus like the bear wasn't even really there. Marcus gulped, taking a slow step back so he could get a better view of the creature in front of him. The Minotaur didn't move at all, a living sculpture of perfect flesh and fur. The bullman's 16 inches of cock bounced suddenly, a bit of pre leaking out and landing on the floor.
"The Minotaur," Marcus managed to gasp, feeling the heat from the creature in front of him radiating in sensual waves. The Minotaur took a full step forward towards Marcus, who had the sense to turn and run for all he was worth. The Minotaur did not give chase, Marcus checking over his shoulder as he sprinted to the nearest turn in order to get away from the beast. But the bear was stopped just as he reached the first fork in the road. He fell backwards, landing hard on his bare ass, eyes looking up and forwards to see another Minotaur in front of him. His already mangled toga came undone at the shoulder, falling off him to the side.
Marcus has to look back and forth to make sure he was seeing correctly. But there could be no doubt about it: in front of him, and now slowly making his way behind him, were a pair of Minotaurs, both with identical features. Each had the same barrel chest, each with biceps bigger than a normal man's head, each towering above the poor bear. Even if he tried to crawl or make a dash past the Minotaur in front of him, there wouldn't be any space to maneuver around the massive body. He was trapped between the beasts. He closed his eyes, and began to ask for forgiveness from the gods.
Before the first line of prayer could even leave his lips, the Minotaur in front of him was hauling Marcus up into the air, grinding his muzzle into the reluctant bear's mouth. Marcus tried to turn his head, squirm out of the much stronger creature's grasp, but he couldn't escape those strong lips or the hand that kept his head pressed into the Minotaur's muzzle. Marcus attempted to punch and kick, seeing if maybe he could hurt the creature, or at least stun it into dropping him, but even a kick to groin didn't phase the Minotaur. If anything, it only increased the intensity of the Minotaur's kiss, who was now shoving his tongue into Marcus's mouth.
The taste was awful. It had this salty flavour to it, and the saliva from the Minotaur felt thick and viscous, not like normal saliva at all. Marcus attempted to spit it back into the Minotaur's mouth after having gotten his first taste, but the beast's powerful tongue practically forced the strange saliva down Marcus's throat. It was as awful going down as it had been in his mouth. Shortly after the bear swallowed, the Minotaur pulled back, a look on his dull face almost like he was grinning. Marcus spat a bit, but the saltiness would just not leave his mouth. The Minotaur's cock pulsed.
Marcus couldn't take his eyes off of that piece of meat. He knew he shouldn't be fascinated by it, but something about that flesh pole just held his attention. Precum leaked out of the tip, and Marcus watched as it beaded up, then dropped to the ground, some of it splashing and landing on the ruined toga. A second drop started to form, but Marcus was already on his knees again in front of the Minotaur, tongue hanging out, waiting for that pearl of semen to fall. Just to test a theory, Marcus had to tell himself, ignoring the shouting voice in his mind that told him this was disgusting and unnatural. The bit of precum fell onto Marcus's tongue. It tasted salty, and had a rather viscous consistency to it. So that wasn't saliva in his mouth, Marcus though, as he opened his mouth wide to take the Minotaur's dick into his mouth.
The Minotaur shoved inside the suddenly eager bear's maw, but not even half of the sixteen inches could fit into Marcus's mouth. This didn't stop either of them from trying to get more in there, though. Marcus felt like he was choking, the Minotaur's member reaching into his throat a bit, but he wanted more. He wanted this creature to take him, like he had taken that young Ovid. Marcus had enjoyed that experience, analyzing how sex felt with a woman. Now he was getting to analyze sex with a man, and his foggy mind found it very exciting. His own cock was rising, with nothing to block its ascent. The Minotaur started to pull back and out of the bear's mouth, and then thrust forward again, getting a bit more dick into the bear.
Something hot poked against Marcus's ass. He didn't need to see it, he knew that the other Minotaur was behind him, readying himself to take the bear's virginity. Marcus wiggled his stubby tail, as if inviting the Minotaur to go right ahead. The flesh entered Marcus with alarming force. He would have yelled if he didn't have so much cock in his mouth. The two Minotaurs stopped their sexual acts for a moment, both with their members embedded in the bear. Together, they grunted, and Marcus found himself getting elevated, though the Minotaurs didn't have their hands on him. The realization that the two beast were lifting him off the ground with just their cocks made Marcus moan.
Suspended in midair upon a pair of pricks, Marcus hung with his arms and legs reaching for the ground, but it was just out of his reach. The Minotaurs had to work in a rhythm, one pushing in while the other pulled back, rocking the bear with their hard thrusts. Marcus closed his eyes, dulled senses enjoying the pleasure mingled with the excruciating pain.
He didn't even notice when his arms and legs managed to touch the floor. He was completely oblivious to the growing nubs on his head, or the lengthening of his tail. Marcus didn't see the fur falling out of his expanding chest, nor did he feel his legs swelling with muscle, his bones cracking as they reshaped to make room for more size. The Minotaurs had to step back a bit to on account of the increasing height of the changing bear between them. Marcus only became aware of his own changes when his balls started to feel heavier, when his shaft was pulling at his groin with a weight he never felt before. And by then, he was so lost to sexual lust that the transformation only excited him further.
The nubs expanded into full horns as the bear's muzzle reshaped, growing flatter and longer. All Marcus knew was that now he could take the entirety of the Minotaur's cock into his mouth. He suckled on the hot flesh, licking around the head and shaft, making the Minotaur in front of him groan with ecstasy. Marcus could smell the cum rising in the Minotaur's testicles, and he eagerly awaited the load, the salty taste of the pre having whet his appetite.
Behind him, his ass was clenching automatically, turning from a flat rear to a firm bubble butt. The Minotaur with his cock up Marcus's ass seemed to approve of these tight squeezes, lowing along with his counter part. Marcus's legs, which now ended in hooves, gripped the Minotaur behind him, as his arms wrapped around the legs of the Minotaur in front of him. The former bear wanted to stay suspended for as long as he was getting plowed by these two gods.
The budding Minotaur's back bulked up, lats expanding upwards into large mounds of muscle, the distinct heads visible as the last of the old bear fur fell out, revealing a deeply tanned layer of skin that barely covered the muscle and veins beneath it. As he gripped the other two Minotaurs, Marcus's arms and legs continued to grow thicker, quads and triceps ballooning with strength, taking the brunt of the extra weight which the two Minotaur cocks would not be able to support.
As a group, the now three Minotaurs worked in tandem, bucking back and forth between them, a pair of sex machines joined together at the groin by a third creature of lust. Together, they worked each other, rubbing whatever muscle they could get their hands on, the only unattended cock that of the one who was formerly Marcus. It didn't need any more stimulation though. The constant bouncing of the suspended Minotaur, the sensation of having his heavy sixteen inches of dick smack against a hard eight pack and thick balls was all he needed in order to release his load, coating the ground and discarded toga in semen. Seeing this, the other two Minotaurs moaned together, their own climaxes following, pumping cum into the beast they had added to their ranks.
Two minutes later, the trio had shifted position. They were now standing in a short daisy chain of anal sex, the Minotaur with his cock not in somebody's ass stroking himself off with one hand as he flexed his bicep for the Minotaur behind him.
From atop a hill over looking the Labyrinth, Julius watched the threesome the Minotaurs were participating in. The fox had a paw around his own stiff cock, watching with rapture as he stroked himself off. He was blissfully unaware of anything other then the sex scene in front of him, as he had been for hours since he got out of the maze. He jumped when somebody behind him coughed, then quickly covered himself with his soiled toga, the cloth having been used to clean up previous climaxes.
When he checked to see who had made the noise, he found a lion standing next to him, a rather large and impressive lion. Not as big as the Minotaurs were, but big enough that Julius could make out all the little details of the lion's impressive musculature. Though shamed to be caught masturbating, Julius was more embarrassed that he found the lion incredibly attractive, as the slightly tented toga indicated.
"You didn't rape her, did you?" the lion asked. Julius nodded. He had, in fact, not raped the young Ovis. While his companions were busy having sex with her, he had decided to remain on guard the entire time, uninterested in gratifying his sexual desires with a girl. He knew he was gay, but since nobody ever asked him, nobody ever knew. "But you and I both know that your innocence isn't why you managed to get out of the Labyrinth," the lion continued. "I saw what you did in there, climbing on top of the walls and walking along the top. That was very clever. I'm Simeon, by the way." The lion offered a paw, which Julius hesitantly took. It didn't seem like the lion even cared that the fox had just used that hand to masturbate.
"Why don't you join them?" Simeon asked after a rather long pause, nodding towards the Minotaurs, who were now sucking each other off in a three way sixty nine. They looked rather awkward, two curled up and one stretched out atop them, but they were making it work, and they made it look hot. Julius could feel his cock throb watching them. "You know, I had to watch all three of you this whole time. Ovid asked me to kill any of you who somehow managed to get out, but I don't think you deserve a fate like that, Julius. But I can't let you go back either, or else it'll be my life that's forfeit. You seem to enjoy what your friends have become, so why not go live the life of sex and muscle you seem to want?" The lion put his paw on Julius's shoulder, looking down and giving the fox a warm, reassuring smile.
Julius didn't even have to think about it. He got back on his feet and tossed the toga aside. With his paw gripping his cock, Julius began the trek back to the Labyrinth. He'd been told what to do, and now he had to make sure he did it.