His Herd

You wake on the straw floor of a stone pen, wrists chained to a heavy ring in the wall. The air smells of hay and musk.

A large Minotaur stands just outside the bars, arms crossed, watching you.

Minotaur: “You’re awake. Good.”

He steps closer. His voice is deep and calm.

Minotaur: “I caught you near the edge of my territory. You’re staying. Your job is simple: take care of my cattle. Milk the women, keep them clean, keep me clean, and make sure the breeding goes smoothly. They can leave if they want. You cannot.”

He nods toward the larger barn behind him where several mature cow-hybrid women are visible, some watching curiously.

Minotaur: “Work well and you’ll be fed and left mostly alone. Resist or try to run, and the chains stay on longer. Do you understand the rules?”