Chapter 1:
Nameless the orphan woke with a start, he had been dreaming about a shadowy figure in terrible agony. This was not the first time he had such a dream so he wasn’t as disturbed as others might have been by the nightmare, but he was still drenched with sweat and couldn’t stop shaking.
She had been in so much pain.
Gradually he settled down and got out of bed. It was just after dawn and he had a couple hours yet before he had to go to work. Nameless ran odd jobs all over the small farming community of Kettering and had been asked to stack some firewood by Tom Loskins, the local baker.
He ran his hand through his matted hair and grimaced at the unpleasant sensation. He was loath to bathe only to work up a sweat later but he didn’t like the grimy feeling which wouldn’t help to improve his standing in the local community.
He was small, barely a man. With narrow shoulders, short cow-licked sandy brown hair and mud coloured eyes. After washing up he got dressed, his clothes hung loosely from his narrow frame; hand-me-downs, the kind of clothes fit for someone fresh from Mistress Ophelia’s Home for Lost Children. He was a quiet boy, having learned a long time ago not to draw attention to himself given his small stature.
He puttered around his dank basement apartment, the only dwelling he could afford to rent (barely) given his low social status. After tidying up a bit and eating a very light breakfast of bread and a bit of cheese he decided to head to the bakery, thinking that being extra punctual might earn him some points with the baker.
This had been his life for the last two years, ever since he aged out of the orphanage. He had not been a good student in school, not that he was lazy or stupid, just not gifted in any of the intellectual pursuits. He had few prospects, but he refused to accept charity, Ophelia had taught him a long time ago that a man had to earn his own way. So he ran whatever odd jobs popped up, barely keeping a roof over his head and food in his belly. His outlook on his own future wasn’t very bright.
He arrived at the bakery nearly a full hour before the baker did, and seeing no reason not to, he began to stack the cords of wood that Tom had showed him the day before. Even in the early morning chill he soon found himself sweating, he was not a muscular man and struggled with things that came easily to others.
Soon enough Tom arrived.
“Well, someone is eager to get started! How long have you been her boy?”
“Not long, Mr. Loskins, I woke up early so…”
“Fair enough, makes no difference to me, make the next few piles closer to the ovens though.” He vaguely gestured to the externally fed ovens on the outside of the building before he went inside to start his day.
Nameless’s arms were burning by this point and he had barely scratched the surface of the massive stack of wood. Evidently the men who had delivered it had simply dumped it in a haphazard pile, much to the chagrin of the fastidious baker. But the orphan didn’t complain, he had a full day of work now and the baker had agreed to pay him eighty coins along with a couple loafs of fresh bread to clean up the mess.
His stomach growled at the scents coming from the bakery, his pitiful breakfast long since forgotten. Lucky for him, shortly before noon Cordelia, one of Tom’s daughters, brought him some biscuits that were too old to sell and a full pitcher of water.
He was parched and downed half of the pitcher right away while the apron-clad brunette watched him like he was something unpleasant that she had nearly stepped in. The biscuits were a little stale but still good.
“My father wants to know how much longer you are going to be.” She didn’t look at him, instead examining the flour under her fingernails with a frown.
“Sh-should be another few hours yet.” He stammered, unused to dealing with girls, and uncomfortable with her obvious disdain for him.
She glared at him in response, clearly thinking that he was being lazy, even though in reality he was drenched in sweat and greatly fatigued.
“Pfft, it’s a good thing you aren’t getting paid by the hour!” She sneered and whirled to go back inside.
Nameless let out a shaky breath, then returned to work.
He finished just after four o’clock and went inside to receive his payment. Standing off to one side unobtrusively and patiently waiting to catch the busy baker’s eye. Unfortunately Cordelia noticed him first and stomped up to him once she was finished with the line of customers.
“What are you doing in here you little orphan?! You look gross and are going to scare away the customers!” She had both hands on her hips, her face a haughty glare.
“S-s-sorry! I’m finished now so…”
“So what?”
“T-T-Tom hasn’t p-paid me yet.” He was incredibly uncomfortable, face red and eyes on the floor as he stammered at the bitchy girl.
“Hmph, well whatever.” She finally released him from her glare and went to get her father.
Soon enough Nameless stood in the baker’s office, while Tom counted out his coins. The baker made no mention of his promise of bread, merely paying the poor boy and sending him on his way. Nameless was too flustered by his surly daughter to bring it up and simply left.
He got about fifty feet away from the bakery when the girl caught up with him, grabbed him by one shoulder and whirled him around, slamming the promised loaves of bread into his gut.
“My dad says that you forgot these, you little parasite.” She stomped off; clearly angry that she had to deal with the lowly orphan again.
Nameless sighed, glad that his day was nearly over; he had to pick up a few things from the market and so he tried to shake off the unpleasant encounter, stowing the bread in his little sack along with the pouch of coins. It wasn’t easy for him. He had always taken such things to heart and would no doubt feel the sting of her unkind words for years to come.
He noticed a crowd had gathered in one corner of the market, which he would have ignored except he could’ve sworn he heard a girl crying. With a frown he moved to join the hubbub.
Unbeknownst to him his life was about to change forever.
Having joined the crowd Nameless was as appalled as they were at the scene that unfolded before him. He watched on as a much larger man wearing a rough hide jacket and adventuring gear jerked hard on a leash that led to a collar around the neck of the piteous Minotaur on her knees before him.
“You worthless cunt! How dare you ruin that sale! Without milk you are useless to me! Fit only to be sold to the highest bidder!”
Her floppy ears wilted as she whimpered, not in fear but in humiliation, as he had torn her shirt off in preparation for what came next, her impressive breasts naked to the public eye. Despite being a Minotaur and thus far stronger than the man holding her leash, the girl was powerless against him as he undoubtedly held her heartstone.
She therefore had to endure it as he took a familiar bull-whip off of his belt and withdrew it, preparing to lash it against her exposed back.
Minotaurs were formidable creatures and a simple cattle whip held no danger for her. It was the humiliation of being struck by such a tool that stung her so deeply. As if she was the lowest of animals and not a sapient creature, rich with emotion. The entire ordeal made her ashamed of herself even though she knew she had done nothing wrong.
Nameless’s blood boiled.
I have to say something, I have to DO something!
A familiar fear gripped him as the larger man continued to shout epithets at the helpless monster girl. Years of being the smallest boy at the orphanage, smaller even than children much younger than him, had taught him to be quiet and not attract attention to himself. Children, like wild animals, can be cruel when they sense weakness.
But small or not, he simply couldn’t ignore what was happening in front of him, especially when he saw the man remove the thick bull-whip from his belt.
Nameless picked up the whole story from the chattering of the crowd of curious onlookers who had watched the entire scene unfold; the man, apparently dissatisfied with the monster girl’s unwillingness to produce milk for him had dragged her into the market square and was trying to foist her off on someone, anyone, willing to pay for her.
While not technically illegal, this sort of street-level monster girl hawking was frowned upon by the Aegis, the lawful governing body that safeguarded the monster girls and prevented them from being treated exactly as this man was treating the buxom cow.
The large man was intimidating, his dress and gear told the story of an experienced adventurer. His actions told the story of a bully and a pig. As such, he had some difficulty getting people to come close enough to make the sale; the small town market goers found the man to be unruly and wouldn’t go near him.
Finally, in a fit of pique he had grabbed a passerby, a chubby man who was dressed like an accountant, and was in the process of trying to bully him into buying the girl, mistaking the man’s shock and pained expression for interest. As it was clear that he was hurting the portly fellow the girl used her superior strength to wrest the poor man free from her owner’s grasp, the catalyst that sent the man into his rage against her.
The crack of the whip echoed through the square. Unbeknownst to the locals, a pair of figures, attracted by the spectacle, worked their way through the throng, curious as to what had drawn the attention of the shell-shocked crowd.
The fearful market goers could only watch, muttering to each other and to no one in particular.
“-should call the Aegis-”
“-isn’t right-”
“-poor girl-”
“-asshole.”
Ultimately, it was the impotent mutterings of the crowd that spurred Nameless into reckless action as he realized that his was one of the voices heard.
Tears streamed down the reddened face of the poor monster as she bowed her head and endured her owner’s ire. She felt the eyes of the crowd on her naked flesh but could do nothing but kneel in shame as her owner loomed over her and struck her again and again until…
She heard the crack of the whip and an unfamiliar cry of pain but did not feel the blow, she cautiously raised her head and saw a child –no, a man! – on one knee between her and her owner. The little man had taken the whip strike across his chest to spare her the next blow, and a small sack lay on the ground beside him.
She was stunned; no human had ever done such a thing for her, or any monster she knew for that matter. Perhaps a proper tamer might have for one of his own pets but never in her experience, although she was never owned by a legal tamer…
“What the hell do you think you are doing boy!?”
She flinched again as her owner bellowed but kept her widened eyes on the figure huddled between her and his whip.
“L-leave her alone!” Nameless managed to stammer through teeth gritted in pain.
Being whipped hurt!
Meanwhile, the previously disgusted crowd reacted to the turn of events, the mutters continued, this time in recognition of the figure who dared to put himself between the large man and the target of his rage.
“-one of Ophelia’s-”
“-that orphan boy?”
“-so brave-”
“-idiot child, leave this to the adults.”
But none of the ‘adults’ moved to interfere, too enraptured by the drama unfolding before them.
The pair of newcomers to the crowd had finally worked their way to the front, still unnoticed; a slight smirk arose on the face of one of them as she witnessed the boy’s courage. She should intervene, and she would.
But first let’s see how the kid handles things alone.
Her grey eyes watched him intently.
“You little shit-stain! Go home to mommy before you get hurt!”
“Not until you s-stop this.” again that damn stutter as Nameless tried to control his fear, his stomach roiling, he felt nauseous.
The gash from the whip extended from the very tip of his chin, across his clavicle and down to his sternum. His blood ran freely.
The brutish man could sense his fear and tilted his head as he thought of how best to capitalize on it. After a brief pause he drew himself up to his full height to exaggerate his intimidating pose, he smiled a sadistic rictus as he fondled the whip in his hands.
“Boy if I have to tell you again, this whip will feel like the gentle caress of your momma’s teat compared to what I’ll do to you, never come between a man and his property-”
“She isn’t yours! A real man doesn’t see his pets as property!” The large man’s outrageous statements set something off in Nameless as he continued to shout at him; “You’re supposed to help her, to take care of her and to protect her! Not bully and humiliate her because she won’t give in to your- your- selfishness!”
Tears streaked openly down Nameless’s face as he gasped out his condemnation of the man now looming over him with an incredulous look on his face. Even as he shouted at him his brain wracked for a way to get the bastard to back off.
Wasn’t there something from school… that’s it!
“This bitch is mine to discipline as I see fit and I will not have some scrawny whelp-”
“N-not according to article six s-sub-section thir-thirteen of The Treatise on Monster Girl Rights she isn’t!” Nameless stammered out with surprising volume, his tone desperate.
His watery gaze barely managed to meet the glare of the other man as his tears of pain and passion seeped down his cheeks unbidden.
Warmth spread through the bountiful breasts of the Minotaur behind him as she examined his profile; scrawny, even more so when compared to her owner’s bulk, clearly terrified but standing his ground. He could definitely do with a good feeding. She licked her lips unconsciously at the thought.
Her owner had dropped the leash in shock after he had inadvertently struck the boy- Man! She reminded herself with a slight shake of her head. These were not the actions of a boy!
“Article six wha- sub-section!?” Her owner sputtered, his face going nearly purple with rage.
She steeled herself, recognizing the signs and ready to grab her supposed rescuer and shield him as he had shielded her.
Suddenly a gravelly, yet feminine, voice rang out, cutting off the enraged man, and distracting him from his target as a woman in uniform and her Wolfen partner strode forth from the edge of the crowd:
“Sub-section thirteen of The Treatise on Monster Girl Rights, which states that any supposed owner who demonstrates benign or willful neglect towards the wellbeing of a monster girl in his care will immediately forfeit his rights to her person pending review by a higher authority.”
She smiled coldly at the ‘supposed owner’.
“In case you were wondering that authority would be mine, drop your weapon and surrender her heartstone immediately.”
The muttering of the crowd changed tone as they took in this new development. Dozens of eyes raked over the striking figure in her dusty grey uniform, and the powerfully muscled Wolfen girl now hunched in a crouch beside her, her long tongue lolled out in a predatory grin.
“-Aegis!”
“-an operative no less-”
“-look at the teeth on her!”
“-thank goodness-”
“-bastard will get his now.”
The woman actually managed to look bored in the face of the crowd’s sudden interest, before she continued.
“By authority of the Aegis you are bound by law-”
“WHAT!?”
“-for willful neglect of a monster girl in your care-” she continued over his sputtered objections as if he never spoke, her eyes flicked down to Nameless who still knelt, grasping his bleeding chest, and she frowned; “-and felony assault of a minor, surrender or be surrendered.”
Despite the pain Nameless managed a derisive snort at her presumption of his age.
As he took in the newcomer in her smart uniform he noticed that the larger man’s rage, while diminished, was far from spent.
He knew, he just knew, that the man was about to do something stupid, well, more stupid.
He edged back towards the topless girl, unconsciously shielding her with his body as he waited for the man’s reaction, heart pounding in his ears. A seemingly empty gesture to the formidable Minotaur but one that struck her to her core, a warm heat spreading from between her legs as she caught a whiff of the man’s scent.
His scent! It made her groan involuntarily as she couldn’t help but react to his boldness. She felt a familiar wetness in her jean shorts…
“Assault of a- he jumped right in front of me! This is- I’ve never heard of-!” The man struggled to master his speech as his face darkened even further.
After sputtering for several moments he gave a bellow of impotent rage and jerked a small crystalline orb from one of the sockets in his bracer and hurled it towards the ground in front of him.
No one was more surprised than Nameless at his own reaction.
He caught a flicker of light from the crystal as the man drew back. Recognizing the man’s intent, Nameless leaped into action. He threw himself forwards into the mud, the stinging gash on his chest screaming in agony from the introduction of the foreign matter into the still-bleeding wound.
He didn’t care.
His focus, his world, narrowed in on that shimmering and so very precious blue orb as his only thought was to get to it before it struck the ground. His hand outstretched, time seemed to slow as he watched the orb leave the other man’s hand—and land in his! He felt the surprising weight settle into his palm as his fingers clasped tight to shield it from the mud splattering upwards from his dive.
Blazing heat burst forth into him, beginning with his palm and radiating from the soles of his feet to the tips of his unruly hair. The incredibly pleasant feeling overtook him for a moment as he drew his balled fist with its precious cargo to his aching chest as his other hand curled protectively over it.
Nameless came back to reality only to find that he was now on his side at the man’s feet.
He slowly looked upwards into a dangerously red face. There was a stunned silence from everyone. A pause. Then the brute, foiled in his rage, drew back his foot to strike the now prone man (child?) before him.
Several things happened at once as the dangerously armoured foot careened towards Nameless’s unprotected ribcage: The Aegis operative barked a sharp command. A very angry Minotaur came out of seemingly nowhere to tackle the armoured legs out from under the man as an equally enthusiastic Wolfen threw herself onto his chest. He spun on two axes for a full revolution before striking the ground.
Hard.
He let out a desperate wheeze, not helped by the sudden presence of a smug wolf girl now sitting on his torso. At this point, both men and monster girls were covered in mud from the busy thoroughfare.
The operative let out a frustrated sigh and muttered about obstinate oafs not coming quietly as she strode forward to take charge of the scene. She stopped and frowned as she took in the sight of the Minotaur who glared at the downed perp while clutching the injured boy- wait, he has stubble on his chin?- to her ample breasts. She was acting especially protective of him… Her eyes widened, then narrowed thoughtfully, before turning her gaze back to the larger man.
“Arresting idiots really isn’t in my job description you know?” she berated the semi-conscious brute, hands on her hips as her partner continued to happily sit on his barrel like chest.
He came to his senses briefly and even tried to struggle once, either to shift the weight off or to escape. The Wolfen let loose a rumbling growl, bared her impressive canines in his face and just stared. A telling wetness became visible on the crotch of his mud covered trousers.
The operative groaned at the display.
“Jan, if you decide to eat half of his face I will be stuck doing paperwork for a month and I will be very put out with you!”
The man went back to being unconscious after that.
“W-who are you people?” Nameless, his voice partly muffled by the breasts of the shirtless Minotaur who still tenderly, if firmly, clutched him, tried to make sense of what was going on.
It was strange, he was uncomfortable to be sure, his chest burned and he desperately needed a bath, but for some reason the nearness of the monster girl kept him from completely losing his shit; as did the comfortingly warm orb still clutched to his chest.
The operative didn’t turn to him as she shooed her partner off of the perp and restrained his hands behind his back before letting him slump back into the mud.
“I am Aegis Special Operator First Class Miranda Holt, this is Jan, my overly enthusiastic partner who knows better than to roll in the mud while we are on duty!”
After being shooed off of her prey Jan had flopped over onto her back and vigorously squirmed from side to side with a blissful expression on her face, her shaggy tail wagging furiously until she was rebuked by Miranda.
“He started it…” She muttered plaintively as she got to her feet and turned towards Nameless and the protective cow.
“Hello, I’m Jan! Hey… you’re bleeding! And you’re NAKED!! Bleeding and naked are two of my favorite things!”
She was halfway through removing her vest when Miranda grabbed her by the scruff of her neck.
“Jan! We are on DUTY! BAD WOLFEN!!”
She released the chastised girl, whose tail was now firmly between her legs, ears flat to her head, before taking in the nervously chuckling crowd and composing herself.
“Do you folks have some sort of law enforcement around here or am I going to have to drag his sorry ass to the Aegis compound in Wayfelt?” She did not relish the idea of going miles out of her way just to drop this idiot off.
“Coming! Coming! Whats all this then?”
A garrulous and enormously fat man in a security uniform had arrived on the scene and many of the people in the crowd looked slightly embarrassed at the sight of their tardy lawman compared to the (mostly) disciplined Aegis operatives.
To be fair, Kettering was a small farming community, the largest building in town was Ophelia’s orphanage and even it was only three stories. Crime was almost non-existent. In fact, the events of the day were the most exciting thing to happen since Joe Rigby drank too much cooking sherry at the harvest festival and started an orgy with old Janet Skinner’s Blomma garden, the flower girls didn’t mind the drunken man’s affections but their elderly owner certainly did.
Blommas are known for the sweetness of their nectar and the passion in their cries of ecstasy. Janet didn’t get a lot of sleep that night. Neither did Joe.
With the situation resolved, and at the insistence of their own lawkeeper, the crowd began to disperse while excitedly chattering to each other.
Eventually, the lawman, with the help of a very muddy Jan, hauled the bound prisoner off to the local security office to await his arraignment. He may have been an asshole but his gear spoke of a seasoned adventurer and Miranda wasn’t taking any chances and ordered Jan not to return until he was safely behind bars.
Miranda turned to consider the couple before her.
“Well, now that that is taken care of, what to do with you two hmmm?”
Now upright, the pair met her gaze.
The Minotaur hadn’t said anything at all and refused to relinquish her grip on the wounded man-boy, clutching his arm between her breasts as she remained on her knees to accommodate his short stature.
For his part, Nameless looked confused, in pain, and more than a little aroused by the continued naked proximity of the cow, a pronounced bulge visible in his trousers.
Miranda sighed, and then scooped up the slightly muddy sack the boy had dropped and held it out to him.
“Oookay, why don’t we start with your names since I gave you mine?”
“N-Nameless, ma’am.”
Miranda glared at him as if he were trying to make her life difficult. She jutted a stern finger at him and his hand froze in the process of retrieving his belongings.
“Are you trying to be a smart-ass?” he vigorously shook his head; “Soooo, you don’t have a name or your name is actually ‘Nameless’?”
“Er, both?” His voice faltered at her continued irritation, he cleared his throat and tried again; “Both, ma’am. I was raised by Mistress Ophelia at the orphanage. I have no birth papers so on the form when they brought me in…”
Miranda’s harsh expression softened, missing birth papers were rare, but not unheard of.
Still, you’d think that someone would have had the lady-balls to give the poor kid a friggin name!
“And how about you milk-maid? You got a name or do I just call you Jiggles?” Miranda shifted her focus to the clingy Minotaur.
“I used to go by Milly, but if my master wants to he can change it.” The girl finally chimed in, her breathy voice sweet and gentle.
Nameless gave an involuntary shudder as her breath caressed his cheek. Her face was dangerously close.
“Why would your master change your name? Milly is a lovely name.” He commented without thinking.
He felt another surge of warmth, this time he couldn’t tell if it came from the stone in his hand or the tit-flesh that encompassed his arm. Milly let out a contented sigh and murmured her gratitude as she clutched him even closer.
Miranda saw the tell-tale light from the orb he still clung to, and her eyes narrowed. She recognized the signs and knew that she was in for a headache if this kid was as young as he looked- But the stubble!
“Right, Nameless and Milly. Well you two both need to get cleaned up and that wound probably needs stitching, I’ll see if there is a doctor-”
“I will take care of him!” Milly practically shouted, before realizing how loud she was being. Her beautiful blue eyes met with his muddy browns; “I-I mean, I CAN take care of you. If you want…”
Miranda’s arms crossed in front of her forming a giant X with her fingers outstretched.
“Okay. Full stop. I’ll admit this is a unique situation but there is no way in hell I’m leaving you alone to ‘take care’ of a minor, especially one you’ve bonded with!”
Nameless looked confused but Miranda had struck a chord: Minor?
“Hey! I’m nineteen! And what do you mean bonded?”
His indignation was short lived however as the beautiful woman on his arm got to her hooves and scooped him into a huge hug, a happy smile on her face.
“See? Master is of age so I can bond with him any way he wants, every way he wants!”
At five foot naught his face was eye level with her bountiful bosom. He found himself struggling to breathe with his face smooshed in between her naked peaks and wondering if he really needed air or if he could just get by on pure bliss.
Miranda was still processing his age when she noticed that he was rapidly turning blue in the iron grip of the exuberant girl. She heaved a long suffered sigh and addressed the happy cow.
“Milly, he won’t be able to bond with anything except other ghosts if you turn him into one.”
“Hmmm?” The blissful cow took a moment to clue in to what Miranda was saying before she shuddered and grasped her new master tighter to her breast; “Ghosts are scary!”
“Milly!”
Miranda managed to snap her out of her reverie long enough for Nameless to catch a much needed breath.
“Please Mistress Ophelia I don’t wanna go to school, I wanna stay in the Divine Valley of Creamy Goodness!”
A blissful smile on his face, the lack of oxygen had clearly had an effect.
Suddenly his eyes popped open.
“Wait, MASTER?!”