Page 5 of Bred By the Minotaur
After that, I count the months.
One. Two. Three.
I get another phone call saying that the pregnancy is going well, and I’m left with a mixed bag of feelings.
Rapunzel haunts my dreams. I hear her cries, feel her pulse around me, and wake up panting and sweating at the memory of her.
Where is she? What is she doing? I wish I knew. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I make crazy plans, trying to figure out how I could get in touch with her.
But then I would sacrifice everything.
Eight. Nine. Ten.
The time draws nearer, and I’m a bundle of nerves. How is Rapunzel faring with our calf inside her? What kind of father will I be? It feels like I haven’t truly slept since I first went to that room and bred her.
It’s right at the start of the eleventh month that I get the call.
“Your surrogate has gone into labor,” the doctor tells me. “Get prepared for our call to come pick him up.”
Him. I’m going to have a son. Finally, after all the money and all the waiting, I’m going to be a dad.
I wait on the edge of my seat for the next call because the room upstairs for the calf has been ready for months. I hope that Rapunzel is all right, that the birth isn’t too difficult for her. I wish I could be there, holding her hand, watching as our infant comes into the world.
I stay up all night waiting, and it’s only when I’m starting to doze off in the morning that my phone rings.
“Your son is waiting for you.”
He’s perfect. Milo is perfect. He looks just like me, as the doctor predicted—the monster genetics always win out. But he has bright, almost neon-blue eyes that shine out from his speckled white and brown face. I can only see them when he stops crying, but they are beautiful.
Hers. That is the piece of Rapunzel I’ll always have.
Three
Five years later...
Phoebe
Here I am again, strapped in and ready to rumble. My legs are held open by the stirrups, my pussy exposed and waiting for whoever walks in that door. The breeding bench underneath me is padded, and the frame is solid steel to tolerate whatever my visitor today has to throw at it.
I’ll be prepared for whoever it is. My client could be a demon, or a cyclops, or maybe even a gryphon—doesn’t matter to me. I have a job, and I’m good at it now.
It’s a simple gig, really. Take a monster’s cock. Get pregnant. Carry that pregnancy to term. Hand over the baby. Mostly passive, though it is physically taxing. I’ve made it a habit to keep up with my exercise, and I’m lucky my body is naturally good at recovering.
So far, both of my pregnancies have been different in terms of symptoms, though neither too difficult. I’ve heard horror stories from the other surrogates about carrying a monster’s baby, both during and after, and I’m glad that hasn’t been me. Not yet, anyway. Cross your fingers and toes, knock on wood, et cetera.
That’s why my ass is up in the air, my legs and hands strapped down so I stay safe even as a monster goes wild. It’s time for baby number three.
The door behind me opens with a creak. Though I know the point of DreamTogether is anonymity, I can’t help being curious about who it’ll be this time. I wonder what it would be like to see their face, to know who’s inside me, who’s shooting in all that sperm that will eventually become a living thing.
“Hello,” I say when my visitor doesn’t speak at first. I hear a clomp, clomp as hooves pass over the tile floor. Perhaps a centaur. Or maybe another minotaur. That would be an odd coincidence.
Fuck, that cock. After that, I was sure that I’d break confidentiality just so I could learn who he was. I felt in my bones that something was different about him, and what we’d done wasn’t just procreating. We had connected on another level, something deeper than just bodies doing what they were made to do.
I knew him, more than it makes sense to know someone you’ve never even seen.
But I didn’t obey my impulse. I need this job, what with my sister’s medical bills stacking up, and I couldn’t risk it by breaching confidentiality. That’s grounds for immediate termination—and they would withhold the rest of my payments, which I certainly can’t afford.
We didn’t see each other again, and I think my heart broke a little the day I found out I was pregnant. It broke more every day until the baby was born, and I handed it off without even knowing what it looked like.
