The monster she feared

Izelair screamed. Despite all that running, her escape had been for naught: her pursuer had succeeded in the chase. Grabbing her arm with a giant claw-like hand, he yanked her out from behind the tree she was using to hide. Izzy's strength was completely drained from hours of fleeing - not to mention the abrupt tumbling down the hill at the end - but a new surge of desperation hit her system. All that she feared the past weeks had been made manifest, and between "flight or fight" she was now **** to rely on the latter. She seized on what she could remember from her self-defense classes: stomp on the foot, knee to the groin, fingers in their eyes. Something, anything to get away. But if he noticed her flurry of activity he didn't show it, her tired punches and kicks barely scratching the surface of his powerful form. Annoyed, he pivoted at the waist and whipped his prey around like a ragdoll, causing Izelair to slam once again into the tree.

Seeing her body go limp, the monster moved in.

"Dad, this is crazy, can't we just talk about this?!"

"That's enough, young lady. We are doing this." Her father turned to each person in the room, staring them down in search of further protest. Her mother and brother were entirely the opposite, ready and willing to participate. Seeing that Izzy was the only malcontent, he moved back toward the wolf-woman, Emily, who was beginning to shrug off her top and unclasp her bra.

"Usually something like a kiss will do, but that's not nearly as fun. Drink up!"

Emily freed her heavy breasts, watching them jiggle for a moment before lightly pulling on her nipples. A bead of milk made itself known, signifying her readiness. Izelair's father hesitated for the briefest of moments, not expecting something so sexual with a woman that was not his wife...but it was not enough to inhibit him further. He approached Emily, nodded in determination, and began to suckle from her. Izzy's brother turned to their mother, expecting a response, but she motioned for him to join in. That was all he needed. Soon both men of the house were drinking from the wolf-woman, tentative at first but with a growing eagerness.

Turning to Izelair, her mother gave a half-smile. "This will be good for us, Izzy. I'm sure of it." The purpose of the statement was fairly clear, to alleviate her own concerns as much as her daughter's.

He picked up the girl, carrying her under his arm as he trudged through the forest. Completely dazed and depleted, she could only look on with fuzzy vision, unable to make out what direction they went or where they were headed. If her captor spoke or made any additional noises, she could not hear them through the intense ringing in her ears. It was all simply too much, and Izelair might have puked if she had anything in her stomach, or even the strength to convulse in the first place.

Eventually he came to a stop. The teen tried to move her head to see their destination, but found she simply could not accomplish the task. Lifeless. Helpless. Completely at the mercy of the monster holding her hostage. She could not do anything as he casually flung her again, her body crashing against a sizable rock.

She could not do anything as he turned her body over, splayed against the boulder with her backside facing him.
She could not do anything as he tore away at her pants, leaving her almost completely naked from the waist down.
She could not do anything as he gripped her hips with his monstrous hands, kicking her feet to spread her legs apart.

As he slowly pushed his incredible girth into her, stealing her virginity and sealing her fate, Izelair had nary the energy to stop him.

"That's right, boys: get your fill."

Emily tilted back a bit and smiled, enjoying the sensation of nursing the two men. Ruffling their hair a bit, she could already sense the Infection spreading to them, getting ready to change them. Make them better. Izzy could only watch, horrified as her family gave into it all, with a greater concern of what her own outcome would be in this folly.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a moan, and everyone turned to face its owner: her brother, seemingly the first to feel the Infection come to the fore. Already his ears poked out from under his (growing) hair, becoming fuzzy and pointed. He pulled away from Emily's breast long enough to take off his shirt, revealing the fur spreading along his torso and back. He bristled at the feeling, the cool air touching his increasingly-hairy body. A nub could be seen above his behind, a tail beginning to form in earnest as the young man kicked off his pants and boxers next. The curvaceous Ms. Reynolds could only chuckle.

"You're really going all the way, eh?"

Izelair half-covered her eyes, not wanting to see her sibling naked but also unable to truly look away. Her brother went back in for a second dose, returning to Emily's breast eager for more. As the milk touched his lips again, the Infection surged forward, progessing him further. He moaned again in happiness, but something was...off. His body felt great, but it needed something else; something different. Pushing his face further into the wolf-woman's cleavage to get a better angle, he arched his back, pushing his behind out. It felt right, doing this, so he didn't notice as the changes moved in a new direction. The first to spot the difference was their mother, who gasped in surprise.

"Warrick, your ass is growing!"

Izelair looked out from behind her fingers, and sure enough, what her mother said was the truth: her brother wasn't just becoming more wolf-like; rather, he was becoming a she-wolf. As Warrick continued drinking unabated from Emily, his body became increasing female, his hips widening and his butt swelling. The fur spread down his legs while his thighs filled out, even as his waist pulled in. They couldn't see, but judging by the moaning he gave off, his face and voice were changing to better match his new body. A svelte hand dove for what was left of his manhood, desperately stroking it as though it was not long for this world. Sure enough, with each pass along its length there became less of it to touch, and soon Warrick could only cry out in passion as she pulled away from Emily and fell to the ground, literally floored by the rapture as she came. Emily laughed.

"Seems there's only room in this family for one alpha male."

Izelair and her mother were so focused on Warrick's changes that they utterly failed to notice the other (now lone) man in the building, one who was busy with his own altering body. Unlike his son-turned-daughter, and true to Emily's assessment, Izzy's father was becoming the alpha: more of a man and more of a wolf, both at once. His body surged with muscles and fur, growing taller and bulkier. He grunted in discomfort as his clothes became tight, threatening to rip at the seems.

"Clark, honey, are you okay?" Izelair's mother asked. He nodded.

"I'm more than okay. I feel great. I feel...powerful."

"You're quite the piece of meat, I'll give you that." Emily mused, earning her a glare from Izelair's mother. As her father continued to grow in size and strength, Izzy found herself becoming increasingly nervous at the sight. She was already on edge, but this whole situation felt more and more...wrong. Her voice came out in a combination of a whisper and a whimper.

"Daddy? Maybe there's still time...to fix things. You don't have to do this."

Clark was not amused at his daughter's continued insubordination. "NO!! I am the man of this house, and what I say goes!!"

Izelair's mother was planning to object, opening her mouth to speak. Her words came out stammering and garbled as she watched her husband shred his remaining clothes, revealing himself in full display. Her eyes could not look away from his enormous maleness, which only seemed to grow bigger as Clark's changes continued...and his aggression with it. Everyone took an instinctual step back from the increasingly-large wolf-man, including Emily, her enjoyment of the situation deteriorating.

"Clark, remember what I said. You need to calm down, or the Infection could overtake you."

He was having none of it. "Don't any of you understand?! I want this! I want this for us!"

With that, he swiftly closed the distance between him and his wife, who offered no resistance as Clark moved in. He yanked on her dress, tearing it; she wanted to be upset, to say that that was her favorite dress, but she couldn't protest with her man so close. Everything about him was incredible, even down to his smell. His male essence clouded her brain. Izelair's father lifted her mother with a frightening ease, and, with only the briefest nod of approval from his wife, he speared her on his wolf cock. She cried out in delight: this was a fullness she had not achieved before, and riding him was a pleasure she had never known.

Izelair surveyed the room: her older brother-turned-sister was lying on the floor, fingers in her newly-formed pussy while kneading at her large furry breasts, getting off at the sight of their parents. Emily couldn't help herself, either, despite her concern over Clark's animalistic behavior, touching her body and moaning. Izzy knew she had to get out of there, and soon. Her mother was already changing, destined to become a bitch in heat much like Emily and Warrick. None of them would be of any help; the young woman knew she had **** but to abandon them and save herself. Kicking on some sneakers, she turned toward the door: next to it was her camping bag, alongside the rest of the family's. They had all agreed to create "go" bags, in case Othrys became too much and they had to flee their home. Apropos as it was now, Izelair took one last look at her ruined family before she grabbed her pack and ran outside.

Clark made no move to stop her, busy as he was breeding his changing wife. There was still time to tame his rebellious daughter; no amount of head start would be enough.

Pinned between the boulder and the monster, Izelair laid there, thoroughly defeated. She could only whimper slightly as he pushed further into her, destroying whatever bond remained between them as father and daughter. To him, she was another bitch to be claimed, with the added bonus of punishing her for running away from her destiny. At this point, Izzy could only hope that the Infection did not turn her into some mindless slut like she had heard about.

There was no pleasure to be had from her first experience of sex, roughly man-handled in this way. The session continued unabated for what seemed like a lifetime, the monster thrusting in and out with a primal need to breed and dominate. As his pre lubed her insides the pain became slightly more tolerable, which was the only solace to be had in the moment. Tears fell down her cheek as she shut her eyes, trying her best to ignore it, to tune it all out, to find her happy place amidst the chaos that had swiftly become her life. But even now she could feel it, worming its way into her psyche and threatening to alter her forever. It seemed to whisper to her mind, asking - nay, pleading with her to accept the changes, to let them in. Beaten and broken as she was, it would be so easy to just give up.

But she couldn't.

The spark of life inside her refused to yield. Even now, at her darkest hour and with literally no strength to stand on, she would not - could not - relent. As her changes began, she found no sexual excitement, no desire to be bred or broken in. All that there was was anger:

Anger at the monster for **** her.
Anger at herself for not escaping.
Anger at her father for destroying the family.
Anger at her brother and mother for enabling him and going along with it.
Anger at the Infection and all the upheaval that ruined her life so thoroughly.

Izelair's eyes snapped open, and she growled. With each thrust she could feel her rage growing, spreading throughout her, reinvigorating her. On some level she knew this to be the Infection, but it didn't matter: at this point she would make a deal with the Devil if it meant saving herself. As her strength returned the monster seemed not to notice or didn't care, content as it was in fucking her and confident in its ability to keep her subjugated. Izzy looked around momentarily for a way to escape, but knew it was not to be: the time for flight was over. It was time for Round 2.

Looking to her left hand, she could feel the changes beginning there. Becoming larger, stronger. As her nails sharpened into claws of their own, Izzy punched the boulder beneath, leaving an indent. Her rage was beginning to boil, but she sensed that patience was key: she needed to wait for her moment. The monster continued to pound her from behind, but the Infection crept forward, building her up, making her lean and toned. When she felt it reach her legs she struck, kicking him with both feet. It stopped him briefly but did not have the desired effect, so Izelair took a deep breath before kicking him again in the stomach. This was successful, knocking the wind out of him. With all her growing might, the young woman primed herself one last time before she pushed off his midsection, freeing herself from his wolf cock before he could knot her properly.

Tumbling over the boulder, Izelair felt her cushioned behind hit the ground. She growled again as her body continued to morph, breasts growing and thighs thickening. Her mane of hair had become wild and even more red, fur was beginning to spread and she could feel her ears poking out. Stumbling to her (powerful) feet she fell to the side, off balance from her new shapely figure and the existence of a tail. She caught herself against a tree, but in doing so did not recognize her strength and moved the tree off its axis. Sensing the changes reaching their apex Izelair screamed, her cry becoming a howl as her face pushed out into a muzzle and what remained of her clothes began to tear away from her growing body. Taller and stronger than ever before, the new werewolf could only look agape at what became of her.

But the deed was not done. A roar was heard from behind the boulder, and Izelair tensed. She cracked her fingers and wiggled her toes, getting used to her new form and preparing for what came next.

What came was a dark ball of fury, mounting the rock and racing toward her with blinding speed. She ducked a wild swipe at her face and punched him in the gut, but it showed very little effect this time. Narrowly dodging a downward swipe of his claw, she countered with two more jabs; again he showed no sign of slowing. Anger had driven her to change into a form that could defend itself, but his was a bestial rage that could not be matched. His next slash made contact, leaving a large gash in her right arm. Izelair had no time to survey the damage, for the monster closed distance and came at her again and again and again. She dove out of the way; looking back, she could see him taking his hatred out on the tree, leaving deep wounds. Distracted as he was, the she-wolf made her move: grabbing him from behind, she began to lift him up. Her muscles bulged and her breathing came heavy, power-lifting a creature that towered over her, but her anger fueled her; she would not be denied. Screaming as she did, taking his frenzied scratches as they came, Izelair suplexed him, driving him backward...toward the boulder. Whether she had planned it or not, the result was the same: his head connected with the rock, followed by the rest of his body weight.

A sickening crack could be heard through the forest.

Izelair recovered, pushing herself off the ground and resuming her fight-stance. She watched and waited for him to get up. A full minute passed. As his body continued to lay motionless, she howled for the last time, a primal yell that could be heard for miles. She left the clearing, headed roughly in the direction of her bag.

Izelair made no attempt to go home. Even naked as she was, she made a beeline directly for the Citadel. No one would challenge her, powerful werewolf that she was. The guards were concerned, but she had no hostile intentions. She got in line and patiently waited for her turn to be seen, standing tall among the normal and changed alike who had come to see the God of the Infection.

Aires heard her story; even offered to punish her father...assuming he still lived. Izzy only wanted one thing at this point, the one thing he could offer her after all that had transpired. Nodding in agreement, he gave her what she was after and she left. Izelair did not return to her family: she bought some new clothes to look presentable, and subsequently left Othrys behind forever.

"Hun, that's a beautiful drawing! Where'd you learn to do that?"

Izelair smiled. "Just some practice."

The older woman waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, posh. Sweetie, that's a talent you have there. Take it and run with it. Probably pays better than this diner does, at any rate."

"That's okay: I'm happy working here."

With that, the owner left her to her business. Izelair used her break time to finish the art piece, soaking in the sunlight that came in through the window. Being a waitress was quite the workout, but she took to it well and it kept her busy. Being busy meant she had no time to think or dwell on things, which was good for her. Only in these somber little moments would Izzy take it all in and sigh, reflecting on what might have been. The Infection had irrevocably changed her life, but here, in this rural little town, she could stay away from it...if at least for a little while.

Looking down, she frowned a bit. There were constant reminders of her past present on her person; two major ones, in fact. Aires had given her her humanity back but could not completely undo the "damage", and her body had taken to the changes quite thoroughly. She wouldn't be scaring anyone with her monstrous form, but she still had to deal with people staring. It sure beat the alternative, though, and some part of her did appreciate the new appearance.

"Sweetie, is your break almost over? Come have some coffee with me before you get back on the clock."

Izelair gave her a pleasant look, before folding the sketch up and putting it in her bag. She didn't ask for this life, but it was the one she had now. The old lady was right: the best one can do is take it and run with it.