Consciousness came slowly, a hazy veil lifting away from pained, tired eyes. Sue was the first, and her head felt like a knot of agony, throbbing pains shooting through her irregularly as she tried to open her eyes. Light, fierce and blinding, made her eyes water, until she slowly began to adjust, wriggling and moaning. Shifting her body about, she became aware she was on soft bed, in a room that smelt strongly of wood varnish and dust. She felt pains throbbing through all her limbs as she tried to move them and a growing sense that something was wrong. This wasn't her bedroom. This was somewhere unfamiliar. Her desire for consciousness and movement overrode the agonies that both gave, and she fully opened her eyes, and the details came more strongly into focus. She was in an old bedroom, a single narrow window high in the faded, wooden-panelled walls, dawn's hazy light coming through. The light that had seemed so blinding was a simple gas-lamp, burning dimly on the bed-side table. The room was bare of ornament and decoration, rustic in its simplicity. It took her several minutes of groaning and shuffling before she was able to rise properly from the unfamiliar bed. It was old, Victorian, with a brass-frame and a very moth-eaten looking mattress. She was still in her clothes from last night, and she felt somewhat under-dressed in the cold morning air. The room had no radiator. She shivered, hugging herself tightly. “Ah...fuck...fuckfuckfuck...” the normally demure girl swore furiously. Where was she? What...had happened? Images from last night seemed blurry and uncertain, nightmarish. They couldn't be real. Could they? Memories of the night before came crashing in, a second hammer-blow that threatened to overwhelm her. She groaned loudly, despite herself, clutching her head, feeling a powerful bruise on the back of her head. She gingerly touched it, and immediately regretted it, physical pain accompanying her mental anguish. This didn't seem like Amber's apartment, and it certainly wasn't hers. She doubted it was anyone she knew who lived here, either. She began to grow afraid. Had...had she been abducted? Had her drink been spiked? Had she walked home at all? Hundreds of strange and oddly less terrifying scenarios arose in her mind. What she did remember seemed too surreal and horrible to be the truth. She was just getting to her feet, when she heard foot-steps coming down the hall. She stiffened, suddenly afraid, and she stepped up onto the bed, readying one of her shoes as an improvised weapon. This was not her house, and there didn't seem any other way out... The old, thick wooden door, stinking powerfully of freshly applied paint and joint-oil, began to open with a loud creak. She shivered with a sudden frisson of fear, her heart-beat racing...only to see it was a young woman, maybe a few years older than herself. This...was not what she had expected. She suddenly felt very foolish to be standing on the bed with a shoe raised. The newcomer was tall, painfully thin to the point of being anorexic looking, her skin papery and white, her eyes sunken and dark, her thin white-blonde hair a ragged perm down her scrawny neck and resting heavily on her shoulders, reminding Sue dimly of the 1980s. This impression was reinforced by the old white jacket, white trousers, and leather pumps the woman was wearing. Gold bangles ran up along a thin arm, the sleeves rolled up. She blinked curiously at Sue. “What did you think you were going to do with that?” She suddenly smiled, a thin crease breaking her otherwise smooth and papery face. It was an oddly macabre grin. “Um...” Sue felt foolish, and reluctantly stepped down, lowering her shoe. “Uh...I'm sorry, I thought...I mean...did I...pass out drunk near here?” she asked, her cheeks red with embarrassment. The woman seemed to pause, as if thinking. “Yes...and no.” she said, with obvious reluctance. “Much more no, really.” Sue waited, and the moment seemed to stretch out, before the woman seemed to remember something. “Oh! Yes. Your friends. They're through here. But.” She said, suddenly interrupting herself. “They've...well. It's going to be tough to explain.” She frowned. “How much do you remember about...last night?” Sue shuddered, dark images crowding in on her mind. She closed her eyes, holding herself. It had to be a Nightmare. Had to be. “I...I don't...it's nothing.” she said lamely. “I rather think it isn't.” The woman said, suddenly, with a lot of force. She leaned forward, grabbing Sue's arm, causing her to yelp in surprise. The blonde woman had a lot of strength in her thin limbs. “Mmm. No scratch or bite-marks. I wonder...” She stroked her chin ponderingly. She then ran her hands along Sue's face and lips, as if feeling for something. “Hey! What-what are you doing...” she flushed, her heart racing at the sudden intimate intrusion, the woman's hands feeling oddly...soothing as they ran coldly over her skin. What was she even thinking? This was...this was too weird. She pulled away, but the Blonde woman seemed satisfied anyway. “No. I think you might be. Clean. Hard to be sure.” She was about to say more, her mouth hanging open, revealing 2 rows of oddly perfect white teeth, when there came a scream from somewhere else in the house. It sounded like Amber. “Ah. Another Awakens.” The woman quickly darted away, running down the corridor. Sue looked around, and slowly, reluctantly followed. As she walked down the dark hallway, seeing similar, peeling doors either side of her, she put two and two together, and realised where she was. This was the Cottage. The one that Candace and Amber had raced to seek shelter in during her...nightmare. But... The tree. She'd fallen. Had someone come and found her, brought her here? The Hounds? Was that all real? She had a nasty feeling it might well be. ============================================================================================================================== It was about eight or nine in the morning by the time all of them had awoken from their various slumbers, and they sat, old cracked mugs of hot black tea(No fridge for milk, unfortunately.) steaming in front of them around the old kitchen table. Candace kept looking to the kitchen windows, looking out on the lawn, as if seeing...something. It seemed pleasant enough in the bright morning, a somewhat rural cottage on the outskirts of town, very old-fashioned. A long winding road leading back, a long way back, into town. How they had managed to come this far outside where they had been seemed a puzzling mystery. One of many about last night that threatened to overwhelm her mind. She clasped the hot mug tightly, her hands shaking. It was impossible. All of it. And who was this woman? She looked up sharply, needing an outlet for her anger, her confusion, her fear. The blonde woman dressed like Sonny Crockett leaned back on the kitchen table, regarding the four college girls with deep, black eyes. She sighed, frowning. “No, it seems I have to tell you all the truth.” “You better fuckin' do! Who the fuck are you? Did you kidnap us? What did you do to us?” Candace said, exploding suddenly, despite herself. She felt angry, deeply angry. She growled low in her throat, an expression of mood that surprised her and made Amber flinch. It seemed they all had...the same memories about last night. None of them had wanted to talk about it, but she could tell from the haunted looks in their eyes. All except Sara. She looked...almost beatific. Her eyes shone with renewed confidence, and she seemed to glow from within. She almost smiled. Whatever had happened with her last night, it seemed to have left her seeming much more...content, or at peace, or something. “Candace, please. This woman took us in...I think she means us well.” Sue reluctantly spoke up, seeing Amber looking torn and Sara looking rather spacey. “Candace, is it? I'm Lianne. Lianne Woods.” The blonde woman spoke, unfazed by the explosion. “I'm afraid that you've all had a very nasty experience.” She paused, and then, as if swallowing a bitter pill, she forced more words out. “And despite my instincts, I can't leave it at that, and let you be on your way. You see, what happened last night...left a Mark on you.” Sue felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck and hands. She couldn't possibly mean... “There's no easy way to say this. All- or near enough all- of you have been tainted by the Wild Hunt. You carry their curse. I feel you all deserve some warning about what that means.” They all blinked at her. “The dogs. They left their mark in you all, didn't they?” Sara seemed to blush at this, while Amber moaned, cradling her head in her hands, her eyes raw and runny. Apparently she'd been crying a fair bit. Candace swallowed, her hands shaking violently. “Those dogs weren't normal ones.” Lianne continued. “I don't expect you to believe anything I'm saying, but you all do remember it, don't you? No matter how dreamlike it seems...” her voice seemed to tremble. “It actually happened. And it changed you. You've all been cursed.” “This is Bullshit! You're trying to have us on. M-maybe you heard us talking in our sleep, or or trained those dogs to fuck us for your own sick jollies. I ought to call the cops...” Candace began, but the absurdity of her own words came to her. Lianne looked at her with deep sympathy in her black eyes. “They won't believe you. Just as you can scarcely believe it all yourselves. An effect of the Faerie, I'm afraid.” “Faeries? Now I know you're fuckin' looney....” Candace said, but the anger in her face was replaced more with fear. She looked around, and saw Sue nodding, Sara frowning to herself thoughtfully, and Amber moaning harder into her hands. “No! No no no...” Amber sobbed. “It can't be like that...It can't...” Lianne shook her head. “I'm sorry. Normally I'd let you go your own ways, believe what you liked. But what those Hounds did to you....their Curse...” She sighed. “Unless you satisfy its terms or find a cure, it will slowly turn you into Wild Hounds like them. And when the next Full Moon comes, and you hear the Wild Hunt's Call...you'll go, and be their bitches.” ===================================================================== Sara opened the door to her apartment, her mind still spinning from everything that had happened, everything she had been told. She had kept quiet mostly, churning over the ideas, the enormity of what had occurred. Her other housemates seemed to be out, and she went into her private sanctum, locking the door behind her, flopping on her bed. Sara spread herself wide, looking up at her ceiling dully, images, memories flashing over her. What Lianne had said...what she had explained, could it be true? It was terrible, of course. Terrible. Yet... The young woman bit her lip. Her memories came back to her. The others had seemed so distraught and confused, but to her it had all felt so...right. She had led the hounds away amongst the hedges, and then laid herself open for them, stripping herself willingly for them, knowing in her heart of hearts that that was what they had come for. They had been rough, over-eager at first, but as she had embraced them, petted them, felt their warm, bestial cocks locked inside of her, their sex- their mating- had become more passionate, tender, and skilled. She had guided them, nuzzling her nose and mouth to theirs, encouraging them to lick her, to kiss her. She had moaned beneath the full moon, feeling their thick seed erupt inside of her, an orgasm more powerful and intimate than any she'd struggled to enjoy on her own or with her partners before-hand. Nothing had felt so good, so right, so full of bestial freedom as that night beneath the moon, her naked breasts pressed against their fur and taut muscles, her tight womanhood ravaged open by their knotted shafts. Even thinking about it now...she shivered, her skin growing warm and flush. She rose herself, and checked under her bed, retrieving her special, private toys. The knotted dildo from Bad Dragon, the dog-collar, the anal-plug tail. All private toys she had been embarrassed about, never bringing them out except at night. She sighed. The dildo was...not nearly as satisfying as the real thing, she now knew. She remembered what Lianne had said, what warnings she had given. She had talked for hours, though she had been reluctant to explain how she knew all she did, or who she really was. Sue had volunteered to stay behind, to help Lianne research a cure. Apparently Lianne knew some people, and some...places, that other people couldn't reach, that could help her find a cure for the Curse. But she had warned them against sexual activity, against getting too intimate with people, against even exchanging saliva or blood, in case they passed the Curse on, or accelerated its progress. She had nodded along with the rest of them of course, but her mind had turned. All her life she had felt...somehow out of place, like the real her was sleeping inside. On the outside she was normal. Painfully normal. She didn't stand out in any-way. Her breasts were average, her light-tanned skin was the most common shade, her hair was dark-brown. She excelled at nothing, and felt no real passion for any one thing, though she had chosen a Psychology Degree over others. Perhaps she had been seeking to understand herself, her desires. And now, temptingly, beyond all imagination, her most secret and carnal desire seemed to be within grasp. She quickly removed her dishevelled dress and under-wear for the second time in 24 hours, eagerly discarding her plain white bra and panties, stretching herself out naked on her bed. She fixed the collar around her neck, and grabbed the dildo with trembling hands. She didn't bother with the tail this time. Her heart thundered, her skin slick with sweat. This was wrong, she knew. Insane. What did she think would happen? Yet, even if Lianne had lied, and this didn't...affect any changes...the fantasy was strong in her mind. She wanted to experience that moment again, if only in echo. The college girl closed her eyes, regulating her breathing, feeling her breasts rise and fall. She clasped her disappointingly average breast in her left hand, squeezing the nipple painfully. She then began to play with her sex, teasing her lips, feeling the soreness, the bruises from last night. It excited her, knowing that it must have been real, it must have been. She bit her lip again, feeling warmth flooding throughout her. Sara pictured the huge, muscular hounds over her, their powerful musk and scent in her nose, their hot breath on her face. She slipped a finger teasingly inside of herself, moaning with pleasure. She squeezed her breast, imagining a heavy paw pressing down on it, claws gently scratching at her soft flesh. She felt her blood-racing, her mind swimming as she pictured the hounds crowding around her. She felt again in her mind the first, agonising thrust, and she pushed her finger all the way in, widening her nether-lips. She felt her juices running slickly against her fingers. She pictured the knot locking tight against her, bruising her labia, felt the animals length painfully pushing into her with hyper-active urgency, its eagerness to breed. She imagined the panting muzzle, saliva dripping onto her chest and face. She grabbed the dildo with her shaking, well-lubricated fingers, and shoved it in fiercely, moaning to herself, arching her back as she felt again that fierceness. Her toes curled as she kicked at her bed, picturing the hounds pacing, whining, eager for a turn with her. She squeezed her breast tighter as she slid the dildo in and out of herself with more frenetic urgency, trying to match that feeling of animal frenzy she had experienced. She gasped, her cheeks flaring red, feeling waves of pleasure rolling through her body. She was a good bitch. A good little doggy who was getting her rewards, she thought to herself, imagining herself as their mate, these powerful hounds as her pack. She felt spasms rock her body, as she punished herself fiercely with the dildo, ramming it in and out of her sore, throbbing vagina with desperation. She began to yip and arf, rolling about on her bed, feeling her girl-cum begin to trickle down her leg, coating her dildo thickly. She would be free! She would be mated over and over and have many fine pups, loved and surrounded by strong alphas... She barked and moaned, her orgasm ripping through her, and something else coming behind it, like two distinct waves washing over her. Sara came violently, howling with joy, before flopping back on to her bed, exhausted and panting, yet still feeling a burning itch down below. They had ridden her many times last night, before she had collapsed, exhausted, their sticky juices clinging to every orifice. She wasn't sure what had happened to their cum, perhaps it had simply dried up or fallen off or something, but she remembered it now, the feeling of being practically coated in their animal seed, the acrid, musky scent reeking and soothing her. As she panted, a silly grin plastered over her face, she glanced over at her mirror. She yelped in shock, and sat bolt upright. She felt herself all over, confirming the truth. She was covered from her chest downwards in fine coarse hairs. Not quite hirsute, and her tanned skin was still visible, the hairs being too fine and thin, but they were there, like arm-hair but all over herself. She felt her wet, aching snatch again, and was surprised at how bushy it had become, thick fur coating puffy, engorged lips. She turned around, disappointed to see she had no tail yet, but noting her back was just as hairy. She reached up, feeling her breasts. Was it her imagination, or were they smaller now? Tender, too. She gasped. Had her orgasms really brought about so quick a change? She shuddered, feeling the tips of her ears, how pointed they were. She imagined what they would look like if they became fully canine. The prospect of herself becoming more canine made her feel hot and flushed again, despite her exertion. She was hungry, and horny, and she wanted this. Was it so wrong, she thought, to not want a cure? She pictured again the hounds beneath the full moon, running a rough tongue over her lips. She wanted it. But...she felt a pang of regret. She remembered the cute boy who had been flirting with her at the coffee shop where she worked. She remembered her parents, distant, but still caring. She remembered her friends, struggling with this curse too, she supposed. Was it right to leave all this behind, to discard her humanity, to embrace this curse? Sara thought back to what Lianne had said, the advice and urgency with which she had said it. By Next Full Moon, she had said. She promised she and Sue would look hard for a cure. In the meantime, keep to yourselves as much as possible. She looked back at her bed, at the glistening knotted dildo. She imagined how it would feel to feel the wind rushing through her fur, to feel some kind Fae Master giving her a rub-down, to feel the warmth and the press of her pack as they bedded together. She felt those dull aches again. She decided she would eat, satisfy that ravenous hunger, and then go see Carey, the boy at the Coffee shop. She felt...frisky, still. It would be all right to do it just once with him, right? Maybe if she cleared her head, tried to really enjoy it with the man she liked, these other desires would go away. She began to dress, though clothing felt awkward, making her shiver as it pressed against her sensitive hairs and skin. She covered herself chastely, not wanting anyone to see how hairy she had become. But, despite herself, she left the collar on. It felt...right somehow. She went into the kitchen, her stomach growling, throwing open the fridge. She licked her lips, the smell of cold meats reaching her. Just a quick snack, she vowed, then she would go outside, clear her mind. She barely noticed the fangs now extending from her mouth... ======================================================================================================== Amber flushed, closing her legs together, trying to focus for once on her university lectures. It had been several days now since... the event. Everyone assumed she was embarrassed about getting wildly drunk on saturday evening, but the truth was far darker. All her life she'd coasted through things, assuming bad stuff happened to commoners, to other people. Now she struggled to deal with the strange and macabre events that had befallen her. She'd been raped. She told herself. She should seek a counselor or trauma therapy or talk to the police or something. But the nature of the assault...she flushed again, squirming at the mere thought of it...had been quite literally out of this world, and its effects were as inexplicable as they were embarrassing. She was horny now. All the time. She'd not exactly been a shy girl before-hand, her blonde-hair and impressive rack had ensured she'd never wanted for attention. She loved sex, usually. But after the stern warning she had been given, what little she'd been able to understand through her initial terror and confusion, was that she couldn't have sex...or even masturbate...for an entire month. Just one month. How hard could that be? Apparently, way harder than she'd ever imagined. Even when she'd been in horny moods before, it had never been this bad. Every time she shifted in her chair, it was agony, the thin silk of her panties rubbing tantalisingly against her slit. She felt her fluids dripping down, and she was glad she'd worn a loose dress, so that noone could see a stain growing on her jeans. She heard some giggling behind her, and looked around, almost wincing at the effect that moving like that had on her crotch. She was desperate for relief. Worse, she kept thinking about...that night, about being mounted and used by the hounds. She had never felt so wanton, so used, so...complete. She shook her head. Those weren't her thoughts! She wasn't...she wasn't a slut. Memories of wild nights returned to her, and she burned with shame and lust, all mixed up. Maybe the Curse wasn't entirely responsible for her desperate situation. She could see her rivals, Courtney and Trisha, smirking at her. She frowned, wondering what had them looking so pleased. Did they somehow know? She flushed red. Oh god, was it visible? She looked down, and almost sighed aloud with relief. As far as she could tell, noone could see how wet she was. She sniffed, alarmed at how keen her sense of smell had gotten lately. No, it didn't seem like something most people could smell either. She turned back, trying to focus on the boring lecture. But it was hopeless. She'd never found it interesting before, and it was even harder now. She felt her clit throbbing, heat spreading in waves through her. So hot. She needed to cool down. She heard them sniggering again. She couldn't take it. "May I be excused..." she mumbled, before dashing for the bathroom, aware of the slow drip of her juices running down her leg. She practically ran to the bathroom once outside of the lecture hall, her cheeks flushed. She quickly sat down in a private stall, closing the door, making sure noone else was around. She sighed with relief, feeling the cool toilet seat against her thighs. She quickly pulled her panties down, noting with a wrinkled nose that they were practically soaked. She ached for release. Acting on some strange impulse, she brought her own panties up to her face, inhaling her own scent. She reeked of musk, of need. She shivered a little, wondering if she'd always smelt so...strongly. Her mind was filled with a flash of images, of mating, of being bred, of being mounted and filled with seed over and over. She squirmed desperately, trying to push such thoughts away. She was Amber Pearsson. She was a human woman, she had a family, and a boyfriend, and a really good life. She had a boyfriend. She bit her lip, her strange thoughts blurring and blending with memories of being fucked by Brad. Irresistibly, she felt her hands straying to her sex. She gasped, her hypersensitivity such that even the slightest touch sent ripples through her body. She knew it was bad to indulge this, to indulge herself, but it was just too much. Even walking had become difficult. Surely doing it just once wouldn't be so bad? She began to jill herself, and she moaned loudly despite herself. She loosened her dress, raising the fabric and clamping it between her teeth to stop herself from moaning too much. She felt her thick fem-cum against her fingers, probing deeper into her folds, ripples of pleasure rolling over her. She gripped her breast, feeling it heavy and thick through her tight bra. She filled her mind with images of Brad, her muscular boyfriend, imagining his cock pounding her, his strong manly hands gripping her rump from behind. She pulled her bra low, her fingers tweaking her thick, engorged nipple. Her first orgasm came quickly, a spurt of musky liquids oozing from her overheated womanhood. Yet it barely made a dent in her need. She shifted uncomfortably on her butt, feeling a pain grow in her coccyx. She ignored it, needing, yearning to relieve more of the pressure, the unbearable hotness within her pussy. She put three fingers in now, feeling herself wetter and..almost slimier than ever before. She squeezed her breast painfully, imagining herself being dominated by Brad, imagining flipping over and looking up into his feral eyes, feeling his length spear her over and over... despite herself, the image shifted, and she saw Brad with a long muzzle, bestial drool dripping from between long glinting fangs. She tried to focus, to bring back Brad's face, but it eluded her. She drove herself on, mashing her clit and her oozing vagina wildly, a second and third orgasm ripping through her, screams of delight muffled barely by the fabric in between her teeth. She arched her back painfully, lifting herself off the toilet, spasms of pleasure rippling through her body. Finally, after a fourth and fifth orgasm, she settled down enough, panting and exhausted, sweat clinging hotly to her tanned skin, her blonde hair disheveled and messy. She realised with a start she'd fit her entire hand inside of herself, and blushed. Was she that loose now? She pulled her hand away, practically popping with the release of suction, so coated in cum were here fingers. Another gush of oozing fluid trickled from her down into the toilet below her, a powerful, canine musk rising from the mess she made. She wiped her hands with some bathroom paper, still calming down, and almost screamed. She barely contained it as she saw that her hands had changed, thick golden-hair sprouting all over, her palms softening and becoming like paw-pads, though still retaining a human shape. She became conscious of pain in her rear, and she felt back, expecting haemorrhoids or something and nearly crying when she felt something strange, yet not entirely alien. A thin, bushy tail now wagged back and forth behind her butt. She shuddered, containing her fear and panic. It was okay. All of this could be fixed right? She felt along the tail, felt how smoothly it joined the rest of her. She felt all over her soft, plump butt, and noted it had become hairier too. She looked down, surprised with the ease with which her neck and back muscles could flex now, and took a closer look, as much as she could within the confines of the bathroom stall, seeing that her pussy was much hairier now too, thick blonde hairs sprouting like a carpet around her engorged, swollen pussy, still glistening with her juices. She shuddered. It seemed clear that Lianna hadn't lied. She really was cursed. She fought back the urge to whine like a dog, distress building inside of herself. She had to go home, fake illness, keep herself away from people. Noone could know about this. She fled the bathroom, pulling her dress low to try and conceal her new tail, conscious also how hairy her arms and hands had become. Unaware that she was being watched by Courtney and Trisha, who smirked, determined to find out what their rival was up to....