5 comments/ 32766 views/ 14 favorites Three Dog Night By: Contrarian Author's note: This story has elements of non-human, mind control, female submission and non-consent/reluctance. Please do skip it if these elements are unappealing to you. It is a little weird, and definitely not for everyone. Please do not read this if you are 18, are not allowed to read it in your area or find it offensive. Please do send feedback and comments, they are greatly appreciated. If folks like this story line, please let me know, and it can be expanded with additional chapters. Special thanks to Murkedly for excellent notes and edits. *** Frieda ran hard through the half overgrown trail, her eyes straining in the dimming light of the sinking sun. She cursed to herself her stupidity. She should never have taken that shortcut, not so close to nightfall. The 19-year old had stayed too long at her Grandmother's cabin. She loved the graying woman quite dearly, and had lost track of time as they chatted. Using the short cut she had thought she could make the three hour hike home in less than two, but when she reached the ford in the big stream, she saw that recent storms had swollen the normally gentle stream to a raging river. The current was too strong even for a strong swimmer, and Frieda was far from that. Frieda's mind raced through her options. She was closer to her village than her grandmother's stout wooden cabin, and any close-by logging camps were closed for the winter. So she turned and sprinted down the small, seldom used side trail towards her village as fast as her strong young thighs could carry her. Without breaking stride, the blonde discarded her heavy leather satchel, and a couple long legged strides later cast off her burgundy colored cloak and hood to lighten her load. In the gathering gloom, small whips of branches stung the soft milky skin of her face, and the trees flew by almost as blurs. The young blonde woman cursed her breasts. They were far larger than any unmarried woman in the village, and they bounced painfully as she sprinted through the ever darkening forest. Her smooth milk pale skin was covered in a thin layer of sweet. Her very breath was like fire. Then she heard it, and her heart leapt from her chest. An eerie howl, a wolf's call far louder than that of any normal wolf. Her toned thighs pumped even more furiously. She must be almost home. Soon she would soon see the outline of the church tower and the torches on the village's high wooden walls. Then she heard a sudden clamor of branches snapping and splintering. The breath left her body as a mass of fur and muscle slammed into her from the side. She felt a piercing stabbing pain in her shoulder as fangs and teeth bit into her. Frieda struck back, punching and kicking, Then felt herself flipped over like a rag doll. The heavy, warm weight of gigantic fur covered arms, pressed her downward. A heavy, canine smell filled her nostrils. Then words came that ran like ice down her spine. They were jagged and guttural. A man's voice, but less than human. "MMMMM.. Can you smell that? Such a wonderful scent. The sweat and sex of a young fertile woman, mixed with that tart taste of fear..." the low voice growled, "You poor girl, with your dulled senses... you have never really smelled anything, never really heard anything. Never really FELT anything. But you will certainly feel some things this night..." Frieda screamed, as she felt her simple peasants dress ripped violently from her body. She turned her head around and stared back in horror, her body still pinned to the ground. In the moonlight, she could see his horrible gigantic member now jutting from a dark mass of fur. Blood trickled from her shoulder to her face. She shouted and screamed, as a massive paw, insanely strong, spread her legs open. Then a woman's voice rang out. "He is here... I have found him." It was followed shortly by another woman's voice then another. A strange woman steeped into a ray of moonlight. Frieda saw that she was completely naked, muscular yet feminine, her long braids of hair swinging as she evades the Wolf. Frieda felt the weight leave her as the Wolf bounded at this new woman, half running and half leaping on all fours. But as fast as he was she moved faster, jumping from bush to stone to bush. Massive claws swiped a half-second late, huge jaws caught only empty air. Then another naked woman appeared, and a third and forth. Each staring unblinkingly at the Beast, knees bent and muscles tense, ready to spring. The Beast looked at them for a moment, and then let out a howl, a raging boiling howl angry beyond thought. With a great bounding leap, he charged through the circle of women into the thick woods. Frieda's wound was now flowing freely and her head spinning. She looked on as the women charged into the woods after the Beast, never uttering word. The last thing she saw before she passed out was the approach of two high boots of worn leather, a man's boots. *** Frieda awoke beside a fire. She saw the form of a man beside her, and beyond the fire a horse and circle of huge shaggy dogs. The Man spoke. "I am William the Huntsman. You are very lucky you were discovered when you were." Frieda tried to speak, but found it impossible. She reached her hand to her neck to find a thick leather collar, woven with silver, and a thick silver ring on the front. "I am sorry, but you have been bitten under a full moon. You have the Curse. I can never allow you to return to your home," the strange man said. "You are under my protection now. The collar you now wear it will help you control the curse, and control your new instincts." Frieda sat up, adrenaline pulsing through her veins, a greater surge of energy and strength than she had ever felt. She had to escape, find her home and the priest and the mayor. Surely they could help her. She jumped and bolted past this new man. The buxom blonde moved quickly, faster than she ever had, even when she was running for her life. She only made a few long steps, before she heard a soft eerie whistle. Frieda suddenly felt a strange sensation overtaking her, radiating from her strange metal collar. Frieda found herself unable to move, and her legs began to felt like iron, and she slowly sank and found her sitting almost against her will. With each heartbeat she felt the inhuman adrenaline and feeling of fear flow out of her. William spoke to her. "Do not worry, you will be alright. Rest and we can talk more in the morning. The fire will keep you warm." He stared into the clear star filled sky, his breath fogging in the bitter cold. "It will be cold tonight." He motioned, and two of the large hunting dogs sat up, and then stood up on their hind legs. They shimmered in the firelight, twisting and morphing into the beautiful women Frieda had seen track and fight the Wolf. As they passed by her to join the Huntsman she also saw each bore a collar of silver like hers. And William spoke to her once more to her before entering the tent. "Your pack sisters will protect you tonight. Once you begin turning, they will teach you how to track and find those Cursed Beasts we hunt." As he walked away, Frieda laid down again, turning her back against the campfire. She was naked, as she felt the warmth of the huge fire warm on her back, and the brace of the frost-bearing air on her face and breast. Even away from the first she felt less cold than she would normally expect, and was almost sweating in the night air. She stared at the past to Master's tent, several yards away from where she and the others stretched out. In the dim flicker of the firelight, through the tent flap she could sometimes see smooth skin of the women as they coupled with each other and the Master, sometimes the shadow of two people in an embrace. She listened, her own heart pounding, as she heard girlish giggles and muffled playful teases. Then she heard the giggles become moans, and through the flap she caught a glimpse as her master slid into one of his women as the other lay underneath. Later the moans became screams of pleasure and mad shadowy thrashing. Then eventually the tent grew quieter and stiller and she heard only soft tender whispers then gentle breathing. The deep night was cold, Frieda thought, even with the large fire. Her last thoughts as she drifted to sleep was how much better it would be in William the Huntsman's tent, her soft young body and the other two women's pressed naked against her new master, their hot skin warming him as he slept. Three Dog Night Ch. 02 Author's notes: This is a sequel to the story "Three Dog Night". It can be read separately, but would be best read after that story. It is a non-human story, with elements of non-consent, fantasy, and hardcore sex. Please feel free to skip it if these are not your cup of tea. Please do not read this if you are under 18, are not allowed to read it in your area or find it offensive. Please do send feedback and comments, they are greatly appreciated. Special thanks to AnotherWannabe and Sexnovella for their excellent feedback. All mistakes are the author's however. The Lonely Sheppardess (Three Dog Night Ch. 2) The young woman looked at the strange, tall man as he finished drinking. They had been chatting and flirting heavily during each meal. But she felt the tone was a little different this time, so her entire body was on razor's edge. The huntsman suddenly stood up from their meal, and with a single stroke of this broad, sun-leathered arm pulled the young widow close to him. She was shorter than him, her hair a shocking red, her blue eyes flashing. Their lips meet in intense embrace. She had been yearning for a night like this for years. She longed for a man's touch again, the powerful sweep of iron arms, and the heat of a body to warm her against the bitter cold of the high hills. The shepherdess, still only 28, let her curls cover her pale, freckled shoulders. She wore a short blue peasants dress, slightly worn in a couple place, but was patched smartly. It hugged the curve of her hip, and the swell of her best. With a motion, she dropped her simple dress to the earthen floor. She had worn nothing underneath. She strained on her tiptoes to scale his towering frame, using his shoulders to pull herself up. She felt his hand on one of her breasts, large enough to cover most of her modestly sized bosom. She snaked an urgent tongue inside his mouth, smiling at the rough stubble on his chin. Her loins ached, she had wanted him more each day he had been at her farm, and each night she had fingered herself to sleep half dreaming of his calloused touch. "Let me taste you" she half whispered urgently, unable to contain her lust any longer... "We will taste each other," William tersely replied. With a single powerful sweep of his arm, he hooked his hand around her naked hip, lifting and turning her upside down in the same motion. The young widow could neither believe she had inspired such passion nor how strong the hunter was. The naked woman spread her smooth legs -- one knee on each of his shoulders -- to allow his hot breath and tongue access to her sopping womanhood. Her long red hair, falling straight from her head, reached down to his boots. As William stood burying his face into the pussy of the woman he was holding upside down, eager fingers worked open the laces of his pants, pulling out his now hardening member. She paused for a second, startled at his size. He was so much larger than her late husband. He was also larger than the young guardsman she had slept with in the spring. She was unsure if she could even fit him in her mouth. But her lust for him was driving her crazy, and stretching wide, she engulfed the broad tip with her lips. Her hot tongue tasted the salt sting of his pre-cum. Bathed in the light of the lamps and hearth fire, he stood lapping her helpless pussy, pushing her over a wave of mounting bliss. She was almost too overcome with the pleasure he was giving her, as well as the intoxicating rush of blood to her head, to properly service his need. But she was intent on showing him the extent of her longing for him, and steeled herself to her task. Bracing her hands on his still clothed knees, she forced her face down on his shaking cock, lines of saliva trailing down his legs. She came off for a breath and then eagerly engulfed again as much as she could. Again and again she repeated this, each time trying to force him just a fraction deeper into her throat. But his tongue was expert. She pulled her mouth from the huge cock, and shouted her ecstasy loudly, unable to restrain herself. She had never orgasmed so powerfully before. With a push of his arm he flung the remnants of their meal off the uneven planks of her sturdy peasant's table. His empty beer stein joined the last of the mutton stew on the floor. Then he laid her on the table, pressing her back against the wood. As he moved behind her he pushed her knees apart with calloused hands. Before he entered his prize, he first laid his iron hard penis on her stomach, her legs now on either side of him. She gasped, as it snaked over milk pale skin of stomach. It reached past her navel. She was afraid: even in her lust, could she take such a length inside her? "William, please, I beg you, be gentle with me." The young widow asked with her voice genuinely alarmed. "Quiet woman! You are as wet as a ripe peach; the scabbard will bend to the sword in time. And with that, William slowly slid his broad cockhead into her, parting her cunt-lips. *** They fucked for hours, first on the table, then on her bed loft. By the morning she had cum four times, and he twice, spilling his seed onto her flat stomach. With each hour, he fucked her much harder, slating his manly need deep inside her, As the light of the dawn sun spilled into the window, they laid together in her bed. She was completely content, lying in his arms, her head on his broad shoulder. "Petra, it is dawn now, and I will leave this morning to return to north. I know there is no Werewolf here, nor was there one in the spring. I have been here already 7 days, past the whole full moon-cycle. In all that time, neither I nor my trackers saw any sign of wolves, recent or old. They themselves have the Wolfs Blood in them, and they would not miss signs being here this long. I know now why there was no sign, and the village guard saw no signed the times before." The redhead started to speak, tears of shame and desperation swelling in her eyes. "You have been here, in this lonely far crag, so high in the hills, loyally tending your husband's flock and farm. It must have been very lonely for you. You thought maybe to catch the attention of a young soldier posted here to catch the beast. They would be posted for week, it is cold and lonely here for a soldier too, and your bed inviting." "But it was wrong and it was foolish. While I waited here, lives may have been lost elsewhere to real threats. William said, putting on his tunic, "I will return the village's money. There is no honor if I keep it. And I must tell them of your lies." "There will be no other hunter hired, nor young soldier posted here, to fall for a sheppardess warm embrace. " ** It was almost year later, and the doors of the small farmhouse on the high crag of the hill were barred shut. A roaring fire lit inside. The eerie light of the full moon bathed the entire hill. Except for the goats penned nearby, there was not a soul around for miles. Inside, Petra sat in a corner, shivering. She was desperately clutching to her deceased husband's hunting musket. She rocked back and forth muttering to herself, "How could I have been so stupid?" Twice this week before she had walked the long path into town, and begged the mayor, the captain of the guard, even the inns keep to send someone to protect her farm." But no one believed her stories this time. No one believed that this time the Werewolf's howl she had heard at night was quite real. They did not even come to check the newly laid paw print in the mud by her house, to see that it was quite real and far too large to be a normal wolf's. They had laughed at her, and ignored her pleas. The fat inns keep said "Let me save a trip to the hills and just bed you here Petra. Don't need to invent no story about any wolf man if you just want a good hard fucking." And now she was alone, just her and her goats, her only livelihood. The night had fallen. Then a voice came from the darkness outside her house, a voice that chilled her to her bone. "No one is coming to help you, poor little goat herder. It is just me and you, now open the door. " It was a voice of pure malice, not human, but low and laced with anger. First it came from the front, then in an instant the back of her hut, shattering the thick boards barring it. Then suddenly the door burst open, and a giant form burst in, covered in dark gray fur, half upright, but scampering all fours. Petra tried to swing her musket around as he bounded through the door. Her heart raced wildly. She fired, but missed wildly in her panic. With a single leap, the man-beast was on her, slinging her gun aside and jerking her to her feet. With a sudden savage yank, he ripped her dress in half, and another yank her dress was in tatters, and her body exposed, her breasts flopping. The beast pushed her towards her bed. She saw his strange partly human penis swelling, and shouted "No, please no! Take my herd, take anything but please not that." The creature only laughed. "Oh, I will take what I want, and I will take it many times from you. Poor Petra, who told one too many lies about Werewolves and whom no one believed when one finally did come," said the creature as it threw her roughly onto the bed, face first and on her knees. A powerful hand grabbed her buttocks, and she was frozen in fear. The creature snapped his jaws lustily on her shoulder, the love bite not deep but she felt the trickle of blood on her back. Petra looked behind her to see the monster rising up, his angry member pointed straight at her helpless pussy, streams of slobber hanging from his long mouth-muzzle. She screamed again. Then a pair of woman's hands grabbed the Wolf beast's massive left arm from the darkness behind. Then another pair of pale female hand grabbed his other arm. And another pair as suddenly around his fur covered neck. And with a sudden forceful yank, the Wolf-man was being pulled backwards, out her shatter door, his mighty claws frantically scrapping and digging into the wood of her door frame to save himself from being pulled outside. Petra still could not see who was behind him pulling him from her battered cottage. There was nothing but the darkness outside. Darkness and the sounds of unholy bedlam, high but guttural howls, mixed with half human curses. They were close at first then quickly moved farther and farther away. Petra suddenly saw a completely naked woman enter, her eyes flashing, almost glowing blue. She was young, and had a strange leather collar around her neck. She stood and stared at Petra as she sobbed naked in the bed, staring perhaps in pity, perhaps in disgust. Then as silently and quickly as she had come, she left. William the Hunter from was standing in the doorway. A year had past, and he had a beard and large scar now sliced across his forehead. William turned to her. "You are a foolish woman. I delayed days coming back, because of your deceit before. But came back I did." And he pulled out a collar, the collar which would keep her from turning completely at the next moon, The collar which would keep her much of her human side, not allowing the wolf to fully emerge. The same collar all the women in William's hunting pack wore.