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Mated by Cerberus

A Monster / Bestiality Erotica



Written by Allison Winter

Published by Bad Dreams Erotica





Copyright Information



Copyright © 2018 by Allison Winter.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For other works by Allison Winter, check here.









Table of Contents



  1. Title Page

  2. Copyright Information

  3. Mated by Cerberus

  4. Other Bestiality Works









Mated by Cerberus

A Monster / Bestiality Erotica

Cleo blinked, and she blinked, and she blinked a third time. No matter how many times she closed her eyes and re-opened them, the scene before her didn’t change. Her head felt muddled, like she had had too much wine, and concentrating seemed to sap all of the energy out of her. The young woman tried to swallow, but felt a foreign heaviness in her mouth. Spitting out the offending object, she stared dumbly at the coin in her hand, wet and cold from her saliva. Shaking her head, she looked out and around again.

She stood before a river, large and fast flowing. The dark waters were illuminated by immense fire pits set in the walls, periodically placed throughout the chamber. Stone surrounded the entire place, higher than Cleo could see. A cave. A cave and a river.

Squinting, the young woman could just make out a boat sailing towards her. The hull gleamed black in the firelight, with the black sails fluffed fully despite the lack of wind. Cleo watched silently as it pulled up to the shore, descending a gangway ramp down next to her. Automatically, she began to walk towards it. Her body moved forward even as her brain ran in circles.

A cave. A river. A coin. A boat. The dead!

The thought jolted through her body, and the girl jerked to a stop.

“Oh no, no no no,” she moaned, running her hands from her head down to her shoulders, her arms, torso, thighs, legs, and feet. Her golden blonde hair felt healthy enough, thick and swirling down to her shoulders, but her skin, oh, her skin! Instead of vitality and warmth, all Cleo could feel was the clammy cold of death, covering her from head to toe.

“No, no, no…” she moaned again, falling back on to the bench of the boat. Her head violently churned like a whirlpool, and the girl felt the confusion draining slowly but surely.

She was dead. Dead. Dead!


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