Percy sighed with relief as he saw a fence. He picked up his feet, praying to whatever gods were listening there was more to the place than just a fence. He gasped when he saw a barn, and a small cabin that chugged smoke from the chimney.
Praise the high kingdom, people! And maybe they were nice!
Percy reached the fence, and almost tore it off the hinges before he caught himself. This wasn't his house-these people, if they were around, might not take too kindly to travelers. Much less young men.
Percy gulped as he thought about the last farm he stopped at, over a hundred miles away. The farmer and his three daughters had been half-orcs, hideously misshapen and cruel. The girls had tried to assault him, all under the eyes of their old man. He had barely escaped in one piece, and had scraped by with his virtue intact. His thoughts trailed a moment towards the girls, their laughs as they tore his clothes from him...
Percy shook his head, and looked around. The barn was quite large, dwarfing the cabin easily. There was rows and rows of golden corn behind the house. Everything seemed roughly hewn and rustic, including the fence. He cleared his throat, and called out.
"Hullo? Is, uh...Is anyone home? Hullo?"
The wind howled, swaying the corn behind the house and pushing the smoke over the barn. But nothing stirred. His gut sank, and he steeled himself as he opened the gate, quiet as the gods he worshipped. He gripped the strap of his pack, and dared another step.
"Hullo? I don't mean no harm, folks. I just need a slight rest."
The wind replied in kind. The gate he entered banged in it's frame, the hinges squeaking. He looked at the chimney, and began to approach the house. His heart jack-hammered in his chest, and he thought of the orc sisters with every foot fall. He approached the door, and gave it a quick rap. As his knuckles hit it a second time, the door creaked opened. He glanced at the door handle, and it was then he realized there wasn't a lock-and the door itself was massive. Easily five feet wide, and eight feet tall. Made from thick timber, the door was meant to keep people out.
Percy gulped again, and began to back up. His stomach howled in return, and it was then he felt the exhaustion in his feet. The anticipation of sitting in a comfortable chair, even for a moment, spoke to him. He pressed forward, and stuck his head in the house.
The room seemed to be a combination of bed, bath, kitchen, and dining area, all jumbled together. He looked at the walls, the furniture and more, and saw the same thick timber used for it all. The walls were spartan, and by the kitchen, a lone spoon hung next to a boiling pot of white liquid. The aroma was absolutely intoxicating. It was sweet, with a hint of honey, milk, and berry. Percy felt his tongue dance across his lips without thinking. He took a step inside the cabin, the floor emitting not even the slightest squeak as he did so. He glanced around as he made his way to the pot. He sat his pack down, and lifted a hand to the ladel on the hook. He dipped it in the pot.
The liquid was frothy, and scalding hot. But Percy took time to let it cool, his lips pursed as he blew upon it. When it was safe to sip from, he did so, and his tastebuds exploded with berries, honey, and the over powering taste of warm, delicious milk. He dipped the spoon in again, and again.
It was by the forth dip that Percy noticed the shadow on the wall. The very, very large shadow that eclipsed the chimney and Percy. He dropped the spoon with a clatter, and very slowly turned around to find himself face-first with a massive set of soft, fuzzy breasts. Though contained behind a set of overalls, it was barely so-large brown nipples radiated out from the brass buttons and wool that held them back. Percy gulped, and looked up. His knees quivered, and his bowls almost released as he first saw the capped ends of horns, then the blue-green eyes that regarded him silently.
A minotaur. A giant minotaur. Gods almighty, that's why the door was so big.
Percy began to speak, and the mintauress dropped her head eye level with him. A long stem of grass hung from her mouth, and her jaw chewed from it as she regarded him.
"I see you liked my milk, little one."
The pot. The taste of milk. It was hers. It had come straight her.
Percy opened his mouth to speak, and his eyes darted towards the door. He grabbed his pack and broke into a sprint, only to have the wind knocked from him as she lifted her well-muscled limb. The minotaur placed a hand on him with gentle pressure-to her, at least. It was enough to keep Percy pinned, squirming, and seriously considering his last moments on Earth.
The minotaur snapped her jaw, the stem of grass disappearing into her mouth. She swallowed, and looked at Percy. Her lips broke into a smile, and she said in a deep, bass voice.
"I'm going to lift my hand now. Don't run. I will not hurt you if you don't run. Understand?"
Percy nodded, and the minotauress lifted her grip. He sat up, clutching his pack as he stared at her massive thighs, legs terminating in well-shod hooves. He gulped, and she spoke again.
"So you liked my milk."
"y-yes ma'am." Percy stammered.
The minotauress gave a slow nod, and said "How did it taste?"
Percy glanced up, and searched her face, uncertain. He then said "Sweet. It, uh...it reminded me of mead, back home."
She gave another nod, the brass caps on her horns bright in the little light of the room.
"Where are you from, boy?"
"g-g-Golgatha, ma'am."
