With a satisfying *crunch*, Garok felt the man in his hands give way like a sack of twigs, those hulking bovine hands wringing the pathetic pink creature to mush as they twisted in opposite directions. The Minotaur had made short work of this foolish male that had dared to step forward to protect his family….
…his wife…
…his daughters…
…his women.
Moments ago the man had been standing before the towering Minotaur, the shaking pitchfork he was wielding only barely able to reach the colossal beast’s head as he jabbed with it sporadically. His trembling voice spat and gibbered what were undoubtedly meaningless curses and empty threats in some version of man-tongue that Garok did not recognise. But the sweet smell of human pussy was on the wind, a delicious scent that had brought this depraved visitor to such an isolated farmstead with a dark and terrible greed in his heart…and his monstrous loins… With the promise of fresh mates so close, the great Minotaur had no patience for this puny obstacle, and had recklessly lunged at the farmer with an unholy speed that belied his size, granting the miserable man but a single opportunity to spare his family from being fucked to death…or worse…at the hands of this gigantic lust-mad rapist. The farmer’s thrust was bold, but his aim poor, and the rusty pitchfork was bent and deflected by the leathery hide of Garok’s midriff, the layers of dense abdominal muscle beneath more than a match for the two prongs of the slender-headed tool.
It had all been over in less than a heartbeat, the loving husband and gentle father selling his life for little more than a flesh wound on Garok’s chiselled body. But as the man’s blood flowed down Garok’s powerful arms and between his steel grip, the farmer’s death scream was echoed by the terrified shrieks of the females he had strived so hard to protect. Garok snorted in approval, a sinister yet approving rumble somewhere between a purr and a growl rising in his chest as his acute hearing picked out three separate voices coming from the farmhouse…this was to be a fine start to the evening…
Before the farmer’s blood could even patter to the earth, Garok threw what was once a man to his side viciously, casting the body of the farmer outwards into the crops the human had tended so dutifully in life. Taking a moment to revel in his own power, the Minotaur watched with some satisfaction as the mangled body tumbled and rolled badly before coming to a rest in an awkward heap.
Snorting loudly once again, twin plumes of hot angry breath billowed in the night, and Garok returned his attentions to the modest farmhouse, and the succulent treats within. Without breaking his stride Garok took two heavy steps forward and put his shoulder to the great oak front door, instantly shattering it to splinters and emerging into what would otherwise have been the warm and welcoming glow of a family hearth and home…
But what of the farmer's widowed wife and fatherless daughters?
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