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As it turned out, when faced with the roster of unappealing options in front of her, Gianna did what Giancarlo would have done when having to face something he really didn't want to. Which is to say, when it came right down to it, she decided to punt again: while grimacing at the unknown and potentially problematic consequences, she put on another set of the girly underwear that the boneheap had provided, erasing that incidence of heat entirely and giving her another short block of days with which to strategize. Not that it had done much for her the last time - but then again, she'd also been wrapped up dealing with Hugh, and the aftermath of his stupid-ass kidnapping attempt.

No, she'd have to be much more proactive this time, especially considering how much her options had shrunk. Okay, admittedly, she hadn't really wanted to use Hugh for sex, no matter which one of them was raping the other, but now that Hugh was Heather, it wasn't even an option. She still couldn't stomach Jonah yet, even if he got over things enough to handle it, and May couldn't carry the entire load, so she'd have to get more... creative.

Which was how, the next day after work, she'd willed herself to pick up the phone and do something Giancarlo couldn't have imagined doing. And how, ultimately, the very next day, she found herself sitting at a table for two on the patio of some vaguely trendy cafe, the kind that had tables with umbrellas sticking up from the center advertising something Italian or other on the canopy. It wasn't exactly the kind of place that would have interested Giancarlo, which was precisely why Gianna had picked it: she had no idea how the food was, but the place was light, open, with clear fields of movement in all direction, no dark alcoves to get trapped in, and plenty of foot traffic passing by to make sure even the slightest step out of line would be visible to plenty of people with cellphone cameras.

It was no secret, of course, that Giancarlo hadn't had much love for cops, especially after spending a handful of hours in interrogation rooms during a couple of close calls. Of course, things were a little different now: like the not-actually-angelic apparition had said, for better or worse, Giancarlo's troubled slate no longer mattered. The only crime that Gianna had committed, the time she'd taken Hugh, would likely never have been prosecuted, and surely even more so with Hugh just as much out of the picture. Nevertheless, she couldn't help looking over across the table at Alan, even in street clothes, without a certain sense of apprehension.

Alan, she assumed, was under the impression it was some sort of date, and on the surface, it probably was. In reality, though, it was much more of a... vetting than anything else. Ultimately, she only had one real question in mind: whether or not he could be useful to satisfy her heat, both without further emotional entanglements, and without demanding to assert that now-troubling sense of male dominance, potentially putting her once again into a humiliatingly submissive position.

At least, from second impressions, he didn't exactly stand out in the dominance department. Sure, he was doing the macho off-duty cop thing with the way he was dressed, from the intentionally distressed leather jacket to the denim jeans snug enough to betray more than just the bulge of his concealed-carry piece. None of that, though, could cover up his youthful, wide-eyed face, and everything about his attitude seemed to epitomize an inexperienced rookie, almost to a stereotypical extent. If anything, he was the one who seemed intimidated, either by her presence or her ostensible attractiveness; he'd all but stammered his way through his initial drink order, and still didn't seem to know whether to look at Gianna's face, or her chest, or down towards his own feet.

If that wasn't enough, he more than proved how nervous he was when his soft drink arrived, bringing it up to his mouth and anxiously lapping a third of it down in a matter of moments, before looking suddenly self-conscious and clapping his muzzle shut around his quickly-retreating tongue. Which, Gianna's mind had pointedly noted, was quite reasonably long indeed. In fact, that wasn't the only thing about him - as a cop, he was the picture of fitness, and with his big blue eyes and almost calico fur pattern, she had to admit that he was kind of, well, cute...

That thought lasted just about long enough to reach the front of her mind, before she recoiled from the notion and mentally tried to stomp it down in to oblivion. A guy, cute? Really? Yeah, maybe she'd thought that about Hugh, but in an intentionally derisive way, not with some... some notion of it being attractive! No, there were only two things that were supposed to be cute: pups, because they simply were, and women of a certain, petite type, but definitely not men. Dammit, she wasn't even in heat, so why the hell was she thinking like that?

She shook her head, trying to clear all that nonsense out of it, before freezing at the notion that he might be watching her freaking out. Luckily, though, he seemed too busy stumbling over the sentences he was trying to formulate to have paid much attention to it.

"Um, so..." he finally managed to get out, kind of just barely meeting her eyes as he talked. "It sure is a nice day, isn't it?"

Gianna looked at him askance. If this was the speed that things were going to go, there was no chance she was going to get the information she needed before their lunch date wrapped up. That was the whole point of this, after all - she'd worn those stupid heat-cancelling panties because she wanted to find out, with a clear and sober head, whether he might actually be worth it, rather than trying to take a desperate chance on his unknown personality while actually in heat. So, somehow, she'd have to speed things up, even if it meant being annoyingly, stereotypically female in the process.

She leaned forward, forcing what she hoped was a warm, alluring smile onto her face. "You know, you could just tell me how beautiful my eyes are, or something like that..."

Gianna almost felt like gagging as she pushed the words out. Obviously, that approach wasn't going to work, if it was going to make her that miserable one sentence in. What other approach was there to try, though?

"Er, um, they are pretty nice-looking, yeah..." was Alan's reply, and he looked even more anxious when Gianna couldn't manage to keep her pleasant expression in place. "Oh, jeez... please tell me that didn't come across as awful as it sounded..."

Gianna actually managed to crack a genuine grin, albeit from schadenfreude more than anything else, but if it helped to defuse the situation, so much the better. "Heh... guess we both kinda suck at small talk, huh? So, maybe we should just talk... about..." Problem was, though, Gianna had really no idea. What the hell did cops talk about, anyway? Eating donuts? Handcuffing people?

Alan, though, apparently interpreted the trailing question in an entirely different way. "Yeah... can't really avoid going into that, unless we want this... awkwardness to continue. About the other day... what can I say? I should have just kept my mouth shut and done my job. Of course, if I'd done that we wouldn't be sitting here, but... it was still stupid and wrong, and I'm sorry for totally misreading the situation like that, especially since as a cop I oughta know better, like my new training officer keeps saying. When I get that scent of heat, thought, sometimes it's like some wires just cross in my brain and I just start thinking with my, y'know..."

"I get the picture, yeah. And hey, it wasn't like I was trying to discourage you, either. After all, it's not just guys who get messed up by heat. I mean, heck, I can't think of a guy I've met recently where the fact of my heat didn't end up getting us both in some awkwardness or other." Which, to say the least, was putting it mildly. "For what it's worth, I forgive you - you wouldn't be sitting across from me if I hadn't. So let's just chalk that up to a moment of heated stupidity, all right?"

"All right... yeah. Um... so, what do you want to talk about?"

Well, gee, since they were already on the subject... why not? Beating around the bush was overrated, anyway. Heck, if she were still Giancarlo, none of this nonsense would be necessary at all - there was certainly something to be said for just grabbing who you liked and taking what you needed. Of course, the one time she'd tried that as Gianna, it hadn't exactly worked out as planned, something that the erstwhile Heather would undoubtedly agree with. Still, it wasn't like she was doing this dating nonsense in the hopes of a parting kiss as a payoff. Might as well get to the point, right?

"So, speaking of heat and stupidity... well, I'm sure you know that the guy who was, ah, taking care of things in that respect ended up..."

"Being afraid of his own dick?"

"Yeah, that, basically. So, while my earlier comment might have come about in a moment of heat-related weakness, it wasn't exactly untrue. Hmm, how can I put this? He and I had an... arrangement for that particular thing, one which isn't exactly playing well right now."

"An... arrangement? That's kind of a weird way to put it... I mean, I thought he was like your boyfriend or something, and I assumed I was here because you'd broken up..."

Gianna actually laughed for a moment at that. "What, you thought he was actually my boyfriend? Nah, we've just... known each other for a long time, and when we needed to blow off steam, or heat, we were there for each other." Well, true enough, she supposed, at least in whatever parallel universe the boneheap had conjured up for her. "Look, I don't want to give you the wrong impression or anything, but dating, big emotional relationships and stuff... that really isn't my thing. I like keeping things uncomplicated, you know? Plus, if we're gonna try and be honest here... you're not exactly what I'm looking for in the whole life-partner thing."

At least the tone of the conversation wasn't so heavy that Alan looked too disappointed, instead choosing to laugh it off. "Yeah, don't like the whole cop thing, huh? I guess some women can find it a little intimidating..."

"Heh... actually, it's not that, really."

"Oh? What is it, then?"

"Well, you don't have tits, for one..." Gianna's muzzle clacked down, but not quite in time to cut off the statement. Why the hell had her mind decided to go down that route at the strangest possible time? She braced herself for his reaction, but he only looked a little confused, rather than perturbed.

"Wait, you're a... lesbian?"

No sense in trying to deny it at that point. "Er, something along those lines, I guess... even kinda have a girlfriend. Heck, she's the one that said it, though: if you're a canine woman, one who goes into heat, there's no such thing as actually swearing off men. And being a canine woman who goes into heat every fucking week, well, it's kind of unavoidable. So, yeah, if you're looking for some lovey-dovey relationship thing, someone to propose to and marry and start a family with, that's not gonna happen, and if that's what you're after, I wouldn't blame you for bailing here and now. However, if you're looking for someone to, you know, have some heated fun with now and again, then maybe we should keep talking, hmm?"

Alan leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to go over what she'd just said. "Wow... all right, then. Guess I see what you meant when you were talking about that arrangement before. Still, I gotta ask... why me? I mean, a smoking hot lesbian who's after no-drama, no-strings-attached sex, it's like... it's like every guy's high-school fantasy or something, second only to having the head cheerleader dump the quarterback and choose you instead. Every red-blooded guy in town would jump at the chance, and yet I'm the one sitting here. I mean, jeez, I'm a guy that more than one woman has called unimpressive right to my face, so I just don't quite get it..."

"Well, look at it like this. Maybe you didn't impress a certain type of woman, but that's because they're usually, for some reason, impressed by jerks or macho assholes." Oh yeah, Giancarlo had known about that type of woman, for sure... "However, that's the last thing I want, and since you're about the only non-jerk guy that I know at all at the moment... yeah, that's why you're here. And maybe it's kind of a stereotype, but your ancestry... your breed has a certain reputation for being both energetic and very eager to please. I mean, let me guess... you're one of those guys who became a cop because they wanted to help people, right?"

"Yeah... I'm really that much of an open book, huh?"

"Not really - like I said, more a stereotype than anything else. At the same time, though, you being a cop means you're also good at following orders. And in the bedroom, a guy who's not all about taking charge, a guy who's eager to please, can take direction, and isn't afraid of a woman being on top... well, let's just say that those are assets that are probably more appreciated than some women would lead you to believe."

Which, admittedly, were certainly advantageous for her - but even as she said them, it still felt like a weird disjunct from the Giancarlo worldview that she'd known for so long. It hadn't even been two weeks since her encounter with the blasted boneheap - had things really changed so much since then? And yet, to survive in her current form in a way that was tolerable... well, maybe that was it. If it was all just in service to making her short-term situation tolerable, then maybe it was acceptable.

The more she kept having to do in this form, though, the more she had to keep thinking this way... would it really all just bleed away once she got back to her proper male self? Although, she supposed, that was the point of all this: get the unpleasantness out of the way as quickly as possible, get to that challenge and get Giancarlo's form back, before she actually started thinking that her current situation was anything approaching normal.

"So, I guess what I'm trying to intimate here is..."

"Yeah. Whether I'm... that kind of guy. Really, I... don't know. Only had a few girlfriends, a couple who thought I was too tame, and one who thought I was too rough, although I was the one who ended up with claw marks all over me. And sure, I've had a few... flings on top of that, mainly with women who were in heat, mainly while drunk, and as to what happened there, I can't remember half of it - except one time I woke up staring up at the moon, about a half-mile outside of town, with no pants and my underwear on my head. Like I said before, when that scent of heat gets into me, the way I react... sometimes it's conscious, sometimes I think it's just all on instinct. And I mean, yeah, if you're offering, sure I want in - I mean, what guy wouldn't? Er, what straight guy, at least... but I'm not gonna promise something that I'm not sure I can do. If it's just normal stuff, I might be able to, but heat, there's just no way to tell. If my PTO hadn't told me to rein it in, back in that office, I really don't know what could have happened."

"Fair enough. Although... I gotta say, I'm actually a little more intrigued now. Most guys, knowing what a woman was looking for, would have sworn up and down that they fit it to a tee, say whatever it took to get in her pants. And considering I was already halfway believing it, you might have actually pulled it off. And yet, knowing that opportunity, and still deciding to be honest with me... yeah, that's something, for sure. And you're right, maybe that aspect of you means it won't work out. But if we both know what's up going into it, maybe it's worth a try..."

"Yeah..." Alan trailed off, though, suddenly glancing around the mostly empty patio. "Of course, there's something about you too, for sure. Can't say I can think of many women I know who'd be willing to sit here in public, just casually talking about sex like they're discussing-"

"The weather? And yet, which of those conversations worked out better?"

Alan grinned at that, looking a little less self-conscious. "You got a point there. Guess I'm just thinking about all the stuff my new PTO's been trying to drill into me, about professionalism and all that, and if he saw me here talking like this, I don't know what he'd think. Except, when he's off duty himself... dobie ancestry or not, the guy's a real hound, if you know what I mean. Heh... guess that means I'm a gentleman in comparison. What can I say, I guess I just wasn't..."

"Wasn't expecting our 'date' to turn out quite like this?"

"Heh, probably not. I couldn't possibly complain, though..."

At that point, the conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the server, who delivered two cheeseburgers that were thankfully lacking pretension of the sort that involved the inclusion of unusual ingredients. They both dug in with gusto, each seemingly thankful that their conversation concluded before descending back into awkwardness. After that, there really wasn't much more to talk about, and they quickly parted ways, albeit with a more comprehensive information exchange, and Gianna noting that she would give him a call "when the time was right." Which, likely, would be in precisely four days.

The conversation, though, hadn't exactly been comprehensive - and by the guy's own admission, he might not be what she was looking for. And yet, even despite that, he was still the best option, at least until they ended up alone in a room together under the influence of her heat, in which case she'd discover soon enough exactly what kind of attitude had shown up - and whether, in that state, she was capable of handling it.

Blergh... yet another uncomfortable situation she would never have even needed to contemplate if that damn meddling boneheap hadn't insinuated its way into her life. That fucking challenge really couldn't come quickly enough - and yet, at the same time, she didn't exactly relish the sheer amount of being fucked she'd have to endure to get there.

Although, if he did work out... well, there were far worse things than going at it with a decently attractive Australian Shepherd-type guy who could potentially take direction better than her other erstwhile partners could. If he could get her to that challenge while keeping those distasteful acts as palatable as possible, and her reasonably in charge, maybe she might actually make it to that ultimate battle with at least some semblance of her sanity, and the remnants of Giancarlo's memories and confidence, intact.

Of course, getting there was significantly more complicated than before. She was already suffering some unknowable effects from taking advantage of one of the boneheap's weird rules, of which there were sure to be more. On top of its lecherous and somewhat vague machinations, now she had to deal with who knew how many other bizarre supernatural entities that had suddenly decided her life was worth messing with. And all of that didn't even begin to get into the weirdness of dealing with the ever-evolving emotions of the people she knew, some of whom were now in the same bizarre, swapped-gender situation that she was.

Speaking of... as strange as it was, Hugh actually seemed more disconcerting at times as Heather than he'd been in his original male form, lechery towards Gianna notwithstanding. That first day, she'd actually seemed to get her head around it reasonably fast, especially considering she'd been transformed, and then immediately gang-raped, the day before. Since Heather worked a split schedule, taking a day off during the week and coming in on Saturdays to reconcile the week's books, she'd had a probably much-needed day off to really come to terms with things. When she'd showed up the next day, though, she'd been confused, subdued, and oddly reticent about discussing much of anything at all - so much so that Gianna couldn't tell whether it was just from the gravity of her situation sinking in, or whether her erstwhile friends had gotten back together with her for a second round. And yet, even with that, she didn't descend into the strange spiral of rage and despair that Hugh had fallen into after Gianna's encounter with him, and even by the next day her mood had bounced back immensely.

By the fourth day in, the disconcerting feeling was fully in effect. Despite earlier protestations, unlike Gianna's constant struggle against it, Heather seemed like she was becoming strangely comfortable with her new form - so much so that Gianna wondered how much of the boneheap's words to her had been calculated mindfuckery, as opposed to the revelation of a truth that the wannabe-macho Hugh had dared not speak.

Far from trying to hide away her figure or discourage people's attraction, her clothing choices had become tighter and more abbreviated, but unlike Gianna, she wasn't grousing about being forced into them, instead seeming to wear them as an intentional choice. Nor did she discourage the comments from their male colleagues, instead starting to respond to them enthusiastically, almost flirtatiously, like she was actually enjoying the attention. In fact, Gianna had even noticed her intentionally rub up against or unabashedly grope a couple of guys she was apparently interested in. Even as a woman, it seemed, Hugh was still something of a pervert, reverting to her usual behaviors - except, being a woman, and a cute one at that, she could actually get away with it. Well, to a certain extent at least - eventually her teasing and goading would probably end up having her bent over a desk with a cock well and truly buried in her spade, but when that happened, it would be her problem, not Gianna's.

Still, it was disconcerting to see, even if there was plenty of truth behind it - Gianna was transformed as well, but it wasn't like her own behavior had really changed all that much. Sure, she'd had to take more than she'd dished out, but what she'd felt, taking Hugh like she had before... that part of Giancarlo still seemed to be there no matter what form she was in, even if that form meant she couldn't satisfy her dark desires with anywhere near the same frequency.

Someday, though, she would take on the boneheap and get her true form back, and there was certainly no fault in enjoying what dominance she could in the meantime. Maybe she couldn't do that with Hugh anymore, having to be Heather's "friend" and all in the hope of finding some weakness in the boneheap that she could exploit, but even that was temporary. She still owed Hugh, after all, for his stupid little attempt, even if it had largely failed. She would eventually get her form back, and assuming no one else was changed back simultaneously, Giancarlo would be paying "Heather" a very long and very thorough visit, preferably when she was in heat...

That, though, was a concern to be stored away for later. Everything else seemed to be stabilizing, more or less, and that could only be a good thing. Jonah was no longer such a mess, and while she still wasn't exactly in the mood to even touch him, they'd at least had a few conversations that could be classified as normal. The guilt from what had happened before was still definitely there, but Gianna didn't really want to risk playing on that just yet, especially since Jonah's mental state still seemed a little fragile.

Jonah wouldn't talk about it, but she got the sense that even if the demon itself was long gone now, the hooks it had planted in Jonah's mind were still tormenting him. No, for the moment it was better to just pretend that things between them were normal enough, if a bit more distant. There was little doubt, anyway, that their friendship would survive, and in the meantime, Gianna had more pressing ones to pursue.

She still wasn't entirely sure whether she and May could be considered an item, exactly, but the time they spent together was only growing, and she was certainly the first choice to hang out with when Gianna wasn't at work. While Gianna was still trying to sort out exactly what kind of advantage the relationship could provide, apart for the occasional necessary relief, having a friend that things weren't currently complicated with was more valuable than she'd anticipated, at least in terms of having someone who knew about being a woman, and could provide some advice from a more direct viewpoint than feminine ones usually were. Sure, in a way the relationship had become both more complicated, and more inevitable, thanks to whatever the thing was that piggybacked on May's consciousness; luckily, though, it hadn't visited again, so it was easy enough to enjoy what she could of May's company and leave it at that.

Even Amanda, the supposed friend that she hadn't known she had, had managed to prove how useful even a typical female perspective could be. Somehow, one of their conversations had morphed into a shopping trip to track down new outfits, and in the midst of it, Gianna had discovered a potentially important loophole for her own comfort: if Amanda suggested something for her, and held onto it herself until checkout, the curse surrounding clothing didn't seem to really come into effect. True, she couldn't directly suggest things without it kicking in, but if she played like she was unsure about fashion or something, letting Amanda guide her while subtly nudging her towards the sort of things Gianna preferred, the results were a little better. Sure, she still wasn't able to net anything proper like actual pants, but at least she managed to get a couple of blouses with reasonable cleavage, some skirts that actually approached a professional length, and some leggings that, while not ideal, at least looked vaguely pants-like and didn't have the same sort of spade-centric, ultra-conforming crotch that the other ones did. Minor things, perhaps, but to see them hanging in her closet still felt like a victory over the boneheap, a way to assert her power and put one over on it. She still didn't exactly love wearing what was on offer, and the boneheap did tend to have one or another of her preferred garments go "missing" on a daily basis, but it was progress.

She'd even felt confident enough, when she'd seen it happen, to call the boneheap out on breaking its own stupid rules. Of course, the slimy thing had simply made up another one on the spot, that it could remove one thing a day as long as it replaced it with something similar that was to its tastes, but she'd badgered it sufficiently over the course of a couple of days that it had somehow relented and actually given her something she wanted: Every time it did a replacement, it would have to give her a point towards her total. Admittedly, it had come with conditions of its own: whatever it replaced, as long as it was reasonable to wear in public, she'd have to wear the next day, and at least occasionally after that - plus she couldn't toss it out and replace it with something else, or the boneheap could revert it for free. That, and it reserved the right to mess with her underwear for free, as long as it only swapped out a small amount at a time. More aggravation, but by her estimation she still came out ahead: considering the stupid game she was playing, points were more important than any other aspect of it, and if wearing a few stupid things meant she was raped by one less asshole before the challenge arrived, it could only be a good thing. In that sense, perhaps she'd made a couple of concessions, but she'd won a much more important battle. Finally, the boneheap had given in, at least a little, and for the first time she actually believed that there might be a way to get the upper hand.

Predictably enough, though, that sense of having more power and control over her own life ended up being the thing that led to her latest humiliation. Riding that wave of success, she ended up feeling so confident that after a successful (if sexually uneventful) date with May, after they'd parted ways and Gianna was walking back to her car, she hadn't even though twice about taking a shortcut down an alleyway between two downtown buildings. In fact, she'd been so lost in her own thoughts that she was halfway down the alley before the cautious part of her even woke up to the fact that it was a stupid thing for a lone, attractive, and basically unarmed woman to do, especially one with her particular curse. She'd been managing it well enough, though, and despite the boneheap's initial assertion, it hadn't really kicked in in a while.

Which meant that even when her eyes snapped back to momentary alertness, she still brushed off the concerns and continued walking, since it was probably less than a minute to the door of her car, and it simply didn't seem plausible that anything would really happen. In fact, it wasn't until the padding of feet became just barely audible a few steps behind her that she realized just how real the threat was.

By then, though, it was too late, and she barely even had time for the notion of the curse to flash far more forcefully through her mind before she felt the heavy impact of someone slamming into her from the side, sending her careening to crash into the nearby wall. And that was it - before she could recover, before she could even spin around and try to confront whoever it was face to face, he was on her.

A hand reached up to clasp hard around her muzzle, the iron-strong grip keeping her jaws clamped firmly in place. Even as she tried to bring one of her hands up to try and prize his fingers off of her, his other hand locked around her wrist with the same powerful grip and twisted it around, trapping her entire arm before pushing the rest of himself in against her.

The sensation of him aggressively shoving against her, trapping her against the wall, sent a spike of adrenaline coursing through her. Part of her wanted to panic, to try and scream out even with her muzzle clamped shut, but another, much more familiar part of her suddenly went cold and preternaturally calm. It was a feeling she'd known before, as Giancarlo, when the chips were down: an angry boyfriend with a baseball bat or hunting knife confronting him, for instance, or that moment after he'd just been sucker-punched, and it was suddenly time to decide whether to defend, or fight back, or just take the beating. That peculiar feeling, when time and awareness suddenly seemed to expand and snap into perfect clarity, that moment his ability to navigate a sudden, dangerous situation came fully into its own, riding on adrenaline and desperation. It was that particular, almost preternatural ability that had saved Giancarlo's hide any number of times, and the same sort of thing that had gotten Gianna through unscathed during that first harrowing night as a woman.

The difference between then and now, though, was that Gianna had had control, choice, a range of options to choose from. At the moment, though, she was well and truly trapped, her voice silenced, her arm snared by a powerful grip that her diminished female muscles had no chance at all of escaping. Still, her mind was suddenly racing, trying to analyze the situation, to create opportunities. If the man was like Giancarlo, if he liked toying with his prey, there would be time, and with time there was always an opportunity for him to slip up, and for her to take advantage of it somehow. True, few had bested Giancarlo once he'd had them in her power, but then again, few women had Giancarlo's knowledge of the way such men worked, and the ability to avoid panic and despair enough to fight through the situation. If there was time, there was hope...

Whoever the person behind her was, unfortunately, they seemed to have no intention of waiting around: not someone sophisticated or plotting, but a blitz attacker, the sort that didn't even take the time to corral their victim into a more secluded location. As soon as he had her firmly against the wall, his hips started to thrust against her, humping up against her butt like some sort of overeager, molesting feral. It wasn't the sort of thing that would normally have been hugely problematic, but on that day, of course, she'd given in and resorted to wearing her fur-tight leggings like they were actually pants, without anything else on top of them, and only the thin, satiny layer of her panties beneath. Coupled with that was the fact that the man's bulge was already tenting out the front of his pants, and each hump wasn't just an annoying pressure against her depressingly pliable backside but a solid, grinding, poking rub directly against her spade, a sensation which the tight layers of fabric snugged against it did next to nothing to disguise.

She tried to squirm away from it, but there was nowhere to go, sandwiched as she was between the wall and the man pressing in against her. More disturbingly, though, it barely took even a moment for her body to begin reacting to the pressure. It wasn't arousal, per se, not like she'd felt before, not like heat, not even like the confused responses she'd had when Jonah first came onto her in the storeroom. No, she was tensed, in that crisis mode, on the verge of panic, and what she was feeling certainly couldn't be arousal - and yet, between her legs, there was a sudden, rapid flush of warmth, flooding in even more quickly than she'd though possible, feeling the heat of it rapidly coat her insides and begin to slick out along the inner edges of her spade, starting to soak into the fabric of panties in a way that only made the fabric cling more tightly against her, transmitting even more of the sensation from each rapid hump.

It was humiliating, feeling it happen, feeling her body react so incredibly inappropriately in the middle of such an acute, dangerous situation. At the same time, though, she knew exactly what it was, in the same way that Giancarlo had known, had enjoyed, had so lusted after. She certainly didn't want what was happening to her - and yet, her body could recognize the situation well enough, and was acting autonomously in accordance with the situation. However much she wanted to fight, whether she wanted to consciously admit it or not, her body knew what the situation meant: sexual activity, forced or otherwise, was imminent and inevitable, and her insides were rapidly preparing themselves to withstand that inevitability.

Somehow, despite the adrenaline making everything seem slower, it all happened more quickly than she expected. The humping paused for a brief moment, the tight grip released from her arms, a hand slid down her lower back, across her butt, and pressed in between her legs, surely feeling the desperate patch of wetness that had almost certainly soaked through her panties and into the conforming, spade-highlighting crotch of her leggings. Then the hand pulled back, a couple more rapid humps left her reeling in response, and even as she gained enough composure to free her arms and try to flail back at him, the distinctive sound of a zipper being pulled came from behind her. As soon as the sound ceased, though, the hand suddenly returned, grabbing roughly at her waistband and yanking her leggings and panties down around her thighs with a single, powerful tug. And yet, the tug was only part of a single, combined motion; no sooner had the fabric of her panties pulled away to expose the pads of her spade than something hard and hot was already spearing at their center, easily forcing them to suddenly spread and stretch around his girth as his shaft plunged effortlessly inside her.

Just like that, she was shuddering as he buried himself in deep, feeling his heat stretching and violating her insides as the bulbous ball of his knot pressed firmly and intimately against the puffy and suddenly sensitive pads of her spade. There was no time to rest, though, no time to properly react to the sensation, no time to get over the way the initial shock of penetration had frozen her and headed off her desperate, flailing attempt to fight back. As soon as he was fully in, he was already pulling back out, and it was abundantly clear just how much of a blitz attacker he was - instead of taking it slow, savoring the sensation, letting the woman feel her complete domination and helplessness at the hands of his cock, it only took him a couple of strokes to bring himself up to full speed, humping into her with rapid canine abandon. And as much as she didn't want to feel it, as much as she wanted to concentrate on finding some way to fight back, each stroke against her insides, each press of his cockhead as it was dragged through her, was another shiver of sensation: another momentary, violating shock that made her gasp, made her freeze, forced her mind back to the acknowledgement of what was happening to her. It didn't matter that her arms, or her legs, were ostensibly free to fight back, as it was all she could do just to bear the feeling of the cock slamming into her, the force of him rocking her forward against the wall, his knot hammering her spade somehow overly sensitive and weirdly numb at the same time.

It was a strange, horrible feeling - even outside of heat, even with her wits about her, being completely stunned by the assault, her body so given over to merely handling it that there was so little else she could do, beyond desperately gasping for breath and sounding muffled cries into the man's hand as the strange discomfort of his rapid thrusts thudded into her. Because of the emergency lubrication, nothing really hurt, but unlike that first time with Jonah, where some amount of real arousal had caused his ministrations to feel both impossibly intense and incomprehensibly pleasurable, the only thing now was raw, unadorned pressure, the way the ridge of his cockhead mashed against the sensitive nub inside her with an intensity that was little more than pure agony.

Worse yet, when he tilted his body slightly and made a few deep, hard thrusts that ground his shaft directly against it, the muffled moan it forced out of her turned into a weird, shuddering gag midway through as her body spasmed intensely. She felt her internal muscles clench in a disjointed sequence even as he kept thrusting through the rapid, shocking contractions, shuddering as they were constantly interrupted and restarted as his thrusts and her contractions clashed. As they cut off abruptly, giving way to the thudding feeling of his continued thrusts, she realized that he'd somehow actually forced her body to climax around him. Unlike the ones she'd felt before, though, there had been no pleasure to it, no passion, no feeling of relaxing or well-being, like the mental part of it just hadn't happened at all: nothing more than the raw, biological response of it, her body being forced into the only possible response to the rough, merciless stimulation.

Luckily, it was over soon after that: the thrusts became more rapid for a moment, then suddenly stopped as he bottomed out inside of her as much as he could, her spade at least resolutely holding the knot outside of her. Giancarlo, at his most sadistic, had prided himself at getting the knot in whenever he could, even with women who weren't in heat, but thankfully whoever was behind her lacked that sort of patience and determination. No, all he did was let out a forceful, huffing moan, enough that she could actually feel his chest push back in against her back as he exhaled. Then there was nothing more to do than be there, pinned against the wall, the thick shaft intruding on her insides throbbing against her stretched flesh and pumping his disgusting, sticky seed haphazardly inside her. And just like that, it was over; in the span of a couple of intense, agonizing minutes, she'd gone from feeling comfortably confident for the first time in a good long while, to forced, powerless, raped, completely helpless and incapable of preventing her humiliation, exposed and impaled on a stranger's cock with his violation thoroughly coating her insides. It probably wasn't her worst defeat ever, but compared to what she'd been capable of as Giancarlo, and how even that knowledge and cunning and capability had failed her, it was pretty pathetic nonetheless.

Strangely enough, Gianna realized as she tried to mentally recover from it all, the entire attack, brief as it had been, had taken place almost completely in silence. It was only when it was all but over, his shaft motionless and dripping the last wet vestiges of his ejaculate into her, that he finally spoke.

"Nnhff... damn, girl. Freddie like. Oh, do Freddie like..."

As soon as she heard the voice, Gianna felt a strange chill run down her spine as recognition kicked in. She knew that voice, all too well, and the name only confirmed it. If it really was him, then... well, considering her current situation, their meeting in this particular situation wasn't exactly unlikely.

"Velasco... is that you?"

Maybe not the best response, as she felt the man's hands descend to tighten against her hips. "What did you say, bitch? How the hell did you know my..."

He trailed off abruptly, his hands going slack, and a moment later he was no longer inside her, several hesitant backward steps sounding on the pavement.

"Ohhh, shit... Gi', is that you? Shit, I, I just saw you from behind, and I didn't, I didn't know..."

Taking advantage of being released from his assaultive embrace, Gianna spun around, putting her back more safely against the wall as she tugged her panties and leggings haphazardly back into place to preserve some pointless sense of modesty. Sure enough, it was Freddie - or rather Velasco - standing before her, cringing back towards the other side of the alley, eyes wide and ears flat with guilt.

"Gi, I swear I didn't know! If I had, there's no way I would have... I mean, what you did for me, I... shit, there ain't no apology big enough..."

"Then save your breath and shut the fuck up for a moment, Velasco. How about that?" Considering what had just happened, it was almost strange to feel her confidence returning so quickly, but then again, knowing who it was meant that the situation had changed drastically from a moment before. Since it was Velasco, of course he'd been so impulsive that he'd grabbed someone without even looking at their face... but it meant, for the moment at least, that the tables had definitely turned. At least, she assumed so, considering his reaction, which meant that certain things in her past hadn't changed all that much at all...

She could see him visibly gulp, but he managed to stay silent, his guilty gaze averted in a supposed show of respect as she looked him over. True, he was... older than when Giancarlo had last seen him, but then again, that was to be expected, considering they'd parted ways after high school. Still, he was the same instantly-recognizable guy that Giancarlo had known well enough, from his black-lab visage to his compact bodybuilder's frame. Hell, he still even wore about the same clothes as he had back then, a pair of dark jeans and a black muscle tee that mostly matched the color of his fur - the better to be a predator, she supposed, although it apparently took someone more sophisticated than him to realize that it didn't help much during the daytime.

Of course, thinking back on his tendencies, she also remembered what the two of them had done back then... but if everything had changed with her new gender, as the boneheap had said, then what the heck had they actually been up to? Two guys, doing what they did, that kinda made sense, but if he'd known her as a girl...

"So... let me guess. You didn't exactly slow down after high school, did you?"

"No, I... no, obviously I didn't. But you know me, you know that I-"

"Yeah, believe me, I know. And contrary to what you believe, I'm probably not nearly as pissed off at you as you think. Mind you, I'm still pissed off about what you did, and the fucking amateurish way in which you did it, but compared to some of the shit I've been through lately, at least you were mercifully quick. Since we're both here, though, and since you obviously fucking owe me, there are some things that you can at least- you know what? How about you put yourself away before we continue this awkward little conversation, huh?"

"Shit!" Velasco reached down and tried to get himself back into his fly - which, given that his knot was basically locking his full erection in place, was easier said than done. That's why Giancarlo had always gone for seclusion, so he'd have time with the woman he'd done even after it was over, just staying inside her and making sure she felt his domination, with the added bonus of being able to get everything back in place easily afterwards. True, Velasco might have done the same if she hadn't caught on to his identity, but even so there was a certain schadenfreude in seeing him struggle with his suddenly inconvenient erection. Admittedly, that was one thing that women never had to deal with, but if Gianna had to choose between wrestling with a stubborn erection, or getting her panties easily back into place only to spend the next half-hour leaking cum into them, she knew which one she'd rather choose.

Somehow, he managed, and afterward even took a couple of tentative steps back towards her, although his hands were still hovering around his crotch - perhaps thinking that a swift kick to the balls might be in store for him. Which, maybe, he deserved, and he probably deserved far beyond that - but when she thought of that eventuality, of the boneheap turning Velasco's gender on its head too, she cringed inwardly. Even though she knew exactly what Velasco was, she wouldn't wish something like that on him, because if she did, it would be as much as admitting that she, herself, was ultimately deserving of her own predicament. After all, to say that Giancarlo and Velasco were one and the same in several important respects would be more than reasonable.

"Hey, whatever you want... after what I did, I owe you at least... a lot more than that, but it's a start. I've screwed up plenty in my life, but to do you like that, after everything you did for me, that's just fuckin' unforgivable. Hell, I always swore that - never you. Those other girls, sure, but never you. And I even managed to screw that up..."

"Yeah, I get it. You didn't know. And you didn't know, because you didn't bother to check. Didn't bother to take your time. Somehow, I even remember back then telling you that shit was gonna come back to bite you in the ass sooner or later, but even now you still don't get it. There's a reason blitz attackers get caught. Then again, restraint and careful planning never were your strong suits..."

"No kidding, right? Never really got caught, but that's half luck, half being quick on my feet. You're right, though - you were always the one with the plan. The one who kept everything under control so that I didn't have to be. Hell, if not for you, they would have caught me back then for sure, and I'd be stuck in some cell right now. I still don't even know why you helped me, being a woman and all, I know you must have got off on it somehow, though I never thought to ask. I mean, it worked, so why risk a good thing by talking about it? Shit, it was so perfect. You make nice with a girl, some girl you wanted to take down a notch or whatever, lure them somewhere quiet, and then I do my thing... man, maybe I should have stuck around, stuck with you. Way too many close calls, if I think about it... and now you're here, and look what my stupid ass just did..."

"Yeah, speaking of that... where the hell did you go, anyway? I heard you'd been sort of around here the last few years - or at least I'd heard rumors of stuff happening, and it sounded like your MO, so I assumed you were, at least." Well, Giancarlo had, at any rate. When you're always on the lookout for people tracking assaults, you tended to keep a close eye on the police blotter to see if anyone might be getting close, and that in turn also provided a certain picture of the other predators that might be lurking in the darker corners of society. Velasco wasn't exactly the most notable of them, but Gianna wasn't particularly eager to encounter any of the others in her current state. Maybe she ought to go back to keeping track of them, she wondered, if only to know what they might be into, and therefore what particular situations to avoid. After all, she'd just had yet another lesson as to what happened when she tried to flaunt the curse and tempt fate.

"Oh, I just kinda went... around. A week after I graduated one of the girls I did figured it out and tracked me down, said she was brave enough to want to call the cops in. I guess they didn't believe her, since I didn't get a warrant outstanding when I got back, but it freaked me out enough that I booked. Kicked around a couple of neighboring states, got into and out of trouble, enough jobs around to make it decently. But the city's just... home, you know? So one day I came back, and no one came after me, so I've been stomping around here ever since. Guess our paths just never crossed until now." He paused, his ears drooping back under a new wave of guilt. "Damn, but it's weird just talking to you, after what I just did. Most girls, they'd be killing me or something, or crying, or calling the cops, but you're just on it, just stone cold, like it don't even matter. Though, I guess that's the way you always were. Just watching as I did them, not even cracking a smile most times, like all you wanted was to see it happen to them. And when I'd finish up and take off, I knew you'd stay with them, figured you did something to them too, but I never stuck around to find out. You're just... different about it, you know? Sure you got a spade, but it's like you got more balls, more mojo, than most actual guys. Maybe that's why it worked out so well... shit. Seriously, you know how sorry I am, right? You want to stomp me or something, I probably ought to let you, I mean, what happened, I've at least got that coming..."

"Yeah, maybe in a minute. I have to ask, though... you never stuck around to see what happened afterwards?"

Gianna, of course, had no experience of how the "new" version of her would have reacted. The only real memories of that time were the ones that came from Giancarlo. Back then, the two of them were just beginning to grow into their sexuality, and discovering what they wanted to do about it.

Giancarlo had been the first to figure out what he wanted - and then Velasco had, too, when he'd somehow stumbled around underneath the bleachers and came across Giancarlo very forcefully putting a cheerleader he'd been obsessing over in her place. When Giancarlo had noticed him afterwards, he'd been afraid that Velasco would call the cops on him, or that he'd have to try intimidating or beating the muscular dog up to get him to keep his yap shut. Instead, though, Velasco had just looked on with awe, like it was the best thing he'd ever seen, then just stood up, walked over, and in a polite but characteristically hyper tone, had actually asked him if he could have a turn with the girl Giancarlo had finished with!

Since Giancarlo was done, and couldn't care less what happened with the girl he'd just used, he'd let Velasco go right ahead - and after that, while it would have been a lie to say the two were exactly close, they'd certainly been partners of a sort. Back then, without knowing nearly as much about what they were doing, grabbing a girl one-on-one was still something of a risky proposition, but with the two of them together, they could get a girl stripped, muzzled, spread and pinned in a matter of frantic seconds, and from there all they had to do was decide which one of them would go first. Luckily for them, most of the girls were so devastated and embarrassed by it that they never went and told on them, but a few of them nearly did, and it was out of necessity that they became more clever: covering their faces, covering their tracks, only doing girls from other schools or other towns. It was in senior year, while taking biochem, that Giancarlo had come up with the idea of the synthetic pheromones, and that had helped immensely - although the truly clever part, injecting something to artificially enforce heat, he hadn't managed to source until they'd gone their separate ways. Still, in a sense they'd both come of age together, partners in refining and perfecting the art of indulging in their particular sexual appetites.

From what it sounded like, the female version had, somehow, been mixed up in the same things... and that, Gianna knew, was something she was actually quite curious about. Even if the boneheap had changed a lot of things about her, she knew it hadn't exactly extinguished her particular desire for sexual domination, as an erstwhile pre-transformation Hugh had certainly been aware. Which meant that, maybe, the boneheap did in fact have at least some limits as to just how much it had been able to change about her. And if some prototypical female version of her had found some good way for a woman to really act on those dominant urges, well... if she could figure that out, than her current situation might become a lot more interesting indeed.

In that respect, though, Velasco managed to disappoint. "Sorry, Gi', I know I was curious a couple of times, but I never did. Always thought it was a better idea to just book it before the girl really paid attention to me. And I gotta admit, there was a part of me, that didn't really want to know what you did to them. I know you know this, but back then, the way you were, the way you acted... not gonna say I was scared of you, men don't get scared like that or at least ain't supposed to, but something told me that if I saw the stuff you did, it just wouldn't keep working. I ran into a couple of them, you know, after, and the way they were messed up, I don't know what you did to their heads, but it was some hardcore shit, you know? Just doing someone doesn't do that to them, so whatever you did, no offense, I just didn't want to know." His expression fell again, and this time, there really was a look of fear in his eyes, and not just about getting kicked in the balls or something. "Shit, I almost want you to just stomp me right now, just get it out of your system, because I just got this feeling that if we leave it like this, some day I'm gonna be alone, and then next thing I know I'm tied to a bed and finding out myself what you did to those girls..."

Gianna couldn't help but smile at that, a tight little grin that she was sure Velasco was probably finding just menacing enough. "Oh, don't get me wrong. Once a certain... situation comes to pass, I'm going to be getting revenge on everyone who's done me wrong, in spades." An unintentional pun, perhaps, but Gianna couldn't help but smirk a little at it. Even if she couldn't condone it, it was probably only fitting...

"You... well, even on balance after what you did, we still probably owe each other quite a lot, so I wouldn't plan on expecting a revenge that's going to be too overly painful or life-shattering. Thing is, though, considering the pace shit has been happening to me lately, about the last thing I need right now is another set of complications - and you getting caught, and our little escapades in high school being brought back to light... probably not such a good thing. So for now, your punishment is simple: it's time to go walkabout again. Hit the road, hightail it out of town, find some other place to be. Because if this is the level of your game right now, you're gonna get caught sooner rather that later, and if you are, I'm gonna be super pissed if it's anywhere around here, anywhere word could get back about me - even if you don't talk, which you probably won't, your face hitting the news could dredge up someone's old memories, and while we're older now, we're probably still not all the way past the statute of limitations. Which means... you've gotta fuckin' go. Sorry that our little reunion here has to be concluded with another long goodbye, but considering the way it started, that's still you getting off far easier than you ought to." She glared at him for a moment, letting the smile show a little more teeth as she brought her hands together and cracked her knuckles. Probably not all that intimidating against a musclebound guy in normal circumstances, but at the moment, it seemed to be having the desired effect. "Unless you'd prefer a solid dose of pain to send you on your way..."

"No, I get the message, for sure. And I know it's not over. Whatever we owe, I guess it's my turn to owe a lot more of it. And if that's what you need, then I'm gone, out of here, a ghost. Maybe someday, though, I see you again, and one day, when this is all done and there's some way to make it up to you, then maybe it could be like old times, find some chick, work your magic, and then... without you, you're right, I'm just some chump trying to get it done, but when we were working together, it was like magic, you know? Shit, if we could just feel that again, but I had to go and cock it all up... I know it, though. I'll hop a bus, gone by tonight, be in another state the next day. But seriously, though... I can call you, right?"

Yeah, that probably wasn't a good idea. "No, you can't call me. Why the fuck would you think I'd want to do that right now? It's not like there's anything more you can say beyond groveling about what happened, and I've already heard more than enough of that from you."

"All right, I get it, I get it... Seriously, I'm outta here. But I just gotta say... back then, what you did, you were the best thing that ever happened to me. No matter what, I ain't ever gonna forget that. Whatever I do now, I'm gonna try to get my head around it, try to be better like you always said, because that's the only way I can think of to give you the respect you deserve. That I betrayed you, that-"

He shut up when she glared at him again, his ears nearly perfectly flat against his head now. "Yeah, Gi', I get what you mean. Shut up and get out of here, right? I know I owe you, though, and I an't gonna forget how much, not ever. You'll see..."

He turned and took off, running down the alley, actually glancing back to see if she was going to- what? Shoot him or something? Of course, thanks to the boneheap, such a thing was actually an impossibility, but even so... honestly, she still wasn't sure how to feel. A fucked-up reunion, for sure, especially coupled with the surreal feeling of having just been raped, and... as soon as it was done, just not feeling much of anything about it at all. True, she'd been through a lot worse, like that nightmarish evening with a possessed Jonah, or that scene of terror in the van. And maybe that was it: all of those things had been drawn out, leaving her plenty of time to dread what was happening, to feel weak and helpless and terrified as she was forced to anticipate each horrible inevitability, each time her body was forced to surrender itself to be subject to someone else's perverse desire. This time, though, there wasn't really much time for any of that, just sudden contact, a burst of that weird emergency arousal, and then... being fucked, something she was now more than familiar with, not really good, or bad, as much as just something that was happening to her, frantic and alien and agonizing and then suddenly over without the need to really dwell on much of anything at all. Actually, put like that, it was sort of surreal: that the most clear-cut and determined rape she was subjected to actually seemed to be the one that was affecting her the least.

Well, in one particular way, at any rate - Velasco, somehow, was about the last person she'd expected to see again. Heck, even Giancarlo had all but forgotten about him, and high school was definitely well enough in the past at that point, along with all of its attendant sins. And since Velasco, as usual, hadn't bothered with a condom, she could still feel the aftereffects of what he had done dripping out in the usual aggravating, humiliating way. Even that, though, could have been worse: at least he hadn't bothered with the pheromones, and since they'd split up beforehand, he'd never figured out the other part of it. The last thing she needed was to go into heat earlier than she was already condemned to.

Even without that, she knew, there wouldn't be much of a respite. While she was fairly sure, once she'd retrieved her purse from where it had been knocked down in the alley, a quick check of her calendar all but confirmed it: if her body kept to its current schedule, she'd be in heat by the next morning: barely a day removed from being raped yet again, and in a position to be all but pleading for more of the same. About the only thing worth hoping for at that point was that the random-ass cop would be as compliant in bed as she'd hoped - the last thing she needed, after yet another pointlessly humiliating turn as a woman, was some fuckhead trying to dominate her again. Besides, after what she'd just been through, the need to turn the tables, to ride the heck out of someone, was stronger than ever.

Not wanting to court any more trouble, she'd quickly made it to her car, and made it home, checking every damn room to make sure there weren't any intruders to further molest her, supernatural or otherwise - maybe overdoing it, but after what had happened, her paranoia was understandably ratcheted up a notch. Then, like usual, she'd stripped, and taken a long shower while waiting for everything to drip out of her.

As she toweled off, though, she realized just how horribly resigned that attitude was: that being raped was now so much a guaranteed part of her life that she was all but developing a routine for handling its aftermath. At the very least, though, she could be thankful for whatever part of her made her emotions different, and allowed her to endure something like that as if it were an actual routine - as depressing as that notion was, if she'd had to deal with the emotional fallout that Giancarlo had seen other women go through, she had no idea how, or if, she'd have been able to manage.

Although... weirdly enough, she couldn't help but wonder if her history as a rapist had anything to do with it. After all, she knew the game from start to finish, knew all the reactions, knew all the ways that women tried to deal with it, or at least the parts he'd hung around for. Maybe it was the fact that she knew how it all played out that made it easier for her to derail those sorts of emotions before they set in. Even if she temporarily had to be prey, that ability to think like a predator, to shunt aside emotions and deal with setbacks, could only help, even if it hadn't all that much during the actual assault.

Giancarlo knew, for a fact, just how dangerous giving in to emotions could be, especially in the heat of the moment. That's why he'd been deliberate, why he'd perhaps even been seen as cold in those slow moments of inevitable domination. There was plenty of time for those emotions to come out, within the passion of the act itself, but before and after, when preparation and careful calculation were so essentially important, such things had to be held in check. That was why Velasco had never reached the level of skill that Giancarlo had; why he'd always had to be on the run, while Giancarlo could lurk and seize upon prey in the shadows while still maintaining a role in polite society. He'd also learned to regulate his passion carefully, and fulfill his deepest desires only when needed, and when the risks were acceptable. He'd raped dozens and dozens of people, but in between he'd slept with hundreds more that had at least a modicum of consent, and little risk at all - not as exciting, but good enough, and such times made the actual dominations that much sweeter, as some willing but clueless bitch gradually realized just what she was in for. Velasco, though, had only been able to get off on the thrill of it, so every time had to be over the line for him, high risk and reward or nothing. Velasco had never learned how not to let his emotions run free, and had paid the price in a variety of ways; Giancarlo, though, had learned that prized notion of control, and even now, in her current form, it was still serving Gianna well enough to keep her sane through such a trying experience.

Of course, there was one problem with all that professed emotional control, and it was already beginning to manifest itself between her legs: no sooner had one annoying condition down there been finally flushed out than another, more frustrating one was beginning. As inevitably as ever, her heat was once again returning - slowly at first, as it usually did, but certain to be fully in force by the morning. And with it, she knew, came that even more troubling state, of desire and emotion dominating over reason, that control she prized so greatly temporarily lost once more to the ravages of heat. And all that stood between her and the worst of it was likely one untested man, a cop nonetheless, with no backup; if he proved to be inadequate, she had no idea what she'd do. There was one other option, admittedly, but not one she'd care to risk: the underwear that the boneheap provided, and the insidious, unknowable burden that came with it. For that matter, she was still waiting to see what effect her last usage of them would have - knowing the boneheap, it would surely be something unpleasant, and she didn't wish to magnify that burden any further even if she had enough of an excuse (more of one, considering she'd been actually raped this time) to use them. And since she wasn't feeling nearly comfortable enough to invite anyone at all over to try and preempt it... well, once again, work was going to be really interesting, and not in a good way.

Sure enough, by the time she rolled into work the next morning, her heat was in full swing for sure - and, considering that the boneheap had used its new carte blanche with her underwear to swap her heat panties back out with the spade-displaying ones, didn't exactly leave her in a particularly pleasant mood, slightly-longer skirt notwithstanding.

To her surprise, though, as soon as she walked in, she realized that she wasn't alone in her discomfiture. One look at Amanda's face, and uncharacteristically loosened blouse that betrayed the absence of any bra straps, and Gianna was just about sure what was going on. Weirdly, she couldn't really smell it, or at least couldn't smell it over her own permeating scent, but as soon as Amanda opened her mouth to speak, the undertone in her voice made it overwhelmingly clear that she was just as heavily in heat. And Heather, even tucked away in the back, was showing similar signs - while apparently she didn't think anyone would notice, the way she was tilted in her chair, shifting back and forth in a way that surely meant she was grinding her spade against the edge of the seat in frustration, was a clear enough indication of what she was going through.

If the condition of her co-workers was clear enough to her, her own condition was obvious enough to them as well, as Amanda gave her a knowing glance when she wandered over.

"You too, huh? I know, not really a surprise considering what you have to deal with, but it's been a while since we've all come into it simultaneously. Don't know for sure, but I'd swear that when it happens together, it's like we feed off each other somehow - I almost never get this worked up on my own, but with Heather in the room too, the need is just... way too intense, you know?" Which, of course, Gianna did, and even if she didn't the look that came over Amanda's face as her body suddenly squirmed involuntarily was unmistakable.

"Yeah, but... not like we can do anything about it now, really..."

"I know, right?" Amanda growled in frustration. "First time it's hit us all in a while, and all of us are between boyfriends, to boot! Trying to get through the whole day like this, the three of us, would be totally insufferable, but at least Jonah's in an understanding mood, not wanting to deal with all of it - it's a slow day for appointments anyway, so he's gonna let us take off at lunchtime for the rest of the day. And since we're all kinda without guys at the moment, I thought, well... there's this club I heard about from a close friend, not too far from here, that's supposed to be just right: no sleaziness, no big, crazy orgies, semi-private rooms and they only let a certain class of guys in the door. Plus, even though it's upscale, we're still the attraction, so it's basically free. And free of condoms, of course, although with the way heat works for us, that's kind of a prerequisite anyway. I'm up for it, and Heather is too - actually, I think her words were something along the lines of, 'if it involves someone with a cock who's not also a dick, then I'm in.' So I figured if you came along, a good, safe club, and the three of us to make sure no one ends up alone with some asshole... you're gonna come with us, right? Remember, it was fun the last time we went to a similar place, I mean for the most part..."

The answer, of course, was no. Absolutely not, no way, no how. It hadn't even been a day since that dumbass Velasco had rape-fucked her up against the side of a building, and there was no way she was going to chance it with whatever type of dominant psycho actually went to a club like that just to avail himself of desperately horny women.

That, of course, was when the damn payback from giving in to the boneheap's stupid underwear game came back and hit her in full force, just about literally. Out of nowhere, she felt something fly up and smack her square in the face, all of a sudden leaving her in a daze - a daze that also seemed to superimpose a translucent version of the girly panties she'd worn to get out of the last heat across the center of her vision, rainbow unicorns and all. Behind them, she could see the day playing out in some strange, quick parody, like someone had hit the fast-forward button on her actual life. She couldn't even recall what her response was, only able to see the day go by in a blur, watching from her own eyes as she went about it seemingly on autopilot, albeit of a sort that seemed to involve more flirting and squirming and having her breasts and spade aggressively groped even more than normal for a day of heat.

It was all followed by a quick, dizzying spin through her house, the sensation of clothing sitting differently against her fur. When the weird panty-infused daze finally snapped away from her vision and unclouded her consciousness, she found herself behind the wheel of her car, Amanda in the passenger seat giving enthusiastic, animated directions, and Heather squeezed in between them, straddling the center console with her crotch pressed up close against the gearshift, the shaft seeming to protrude from between her legs in an uncomfortably phallic manner. Considering who was in her car, and where they were likely going, Gianna could only conclude that the new curse she'd willingly accepted by using the panties had caused her to enthusiastically agree to the sordid trip.

When she hit a stoplight, she glanced down at herself, and then across at her partners in heat. Gianna seemed to be wearing... not an awful lot at all, a crop top that seemed to consist mainly of a bra that had a couple of inches of snug, sheer fabric trailing down from it, and a pair of tight black shorts that clung to her hips, spade, and butt, and apparently covered nothing else besides them. In fact, they were tight enough that Gianna was sure she would have seen the seams of any panties that she was wearing beneath - in their absence, and considering the way it felt, she was convinced that they were all she was wearing down there.

If anything, though, the others were even more ludicrously dressed. Amanda was wearing what basically looked like lingerie, with a pattern of interlocking red and black hearts, although the slightly different texture of the fabric and slightly increased coverage made it more likely to be a bikini-style swimsuit. Heather was actually wearing a one-piece swimsuit, or maybe a teddy, silver in contrast to her golden fur, and only opaque around the chest and the crotch - everything else was made from a sheer, especially shiny metallic mesh. Weirdly, such things weren't impossibly uncommon, and were even generally considered legitimate to wear in public, not just at the beach - for certain species with extremely long-haired fur, clothing with minimal additional coverage wasn't just desired, but demanded, and allowed by law. True, those with such fur made up a small minority, and most others preferred covering up at least somewhat more, but such displays could occasionally be seen.

They hadn't done much for Giancarlo, as he'd always appreciated a woman's shape, and seeing a woman whose supposedly skimpy clothes, and most everything else, were hidden behind a fluffy, formless puffball of fur had never been high on his list. Considering that she didn't have such obscuring fur, though, actually stepping out of the car while dressed like that was going to be... interesting, to say the least. None of the others seemed to mind, though, and even Gianna could begin to feel why - in her current, heated state, there was something at least a little bit relieving about having the least amount of clothing restraining her, and the shorts, while tight, were also extremely stretchy, conforming comfortably along the contours of her swollen spade without putting any squirm-inducing pressure on it. Still, it seemed a pitifully inadequate layer between her and the hands of whatever guy would soon be pawing at her - which, probably was the point. They were going to a place where the entire point was to get the heat dicked out of her, a circumstance that was beginning to seem more and more inevitable, given the way her heat continued to surge as the club pulled slowly into view.

Gianna knew that she should be angry about the situation, angry at the boneheap and the curse and her own cowardice at wearing the stupid cursed panties in the first place. Seriously, cursed panties - how screwed up was that? And yet, with the aggravation of heat eating at her body and mind, there wasn't a whole lot of room for other emotions. By now, she knew all too well what her body was aching for, and as much as the idea of taking on another stranger didn't exactly appeal to her, the reality was that they were only a couple of blocks away from... some sort of relief, at least. That, and thanks to the curse dropping her back into control in situ, there weren't a lot of other options: sure, she could turn around and go somewhere else, but to do that she'd have to suffer the verbal wrath of two women who were very much in heat, and would surely be extremely frustrated if their anticipated release was denied them. Plus, on top of all that, there was the obvious inevitability: thanks to her form, and her heat, at some point in the next few hours, either she would be going pretty much crazy, or someone's knot was going to be firmly wedged inside of her spade, taking care of things. Considering that was the case, and the fact that Alan probably wouldn't even get off shift until nightfall, maybe it made sense to just... resign herself to the situation, as much as she hated the idea of it. It had to be better than getting done in some alley somewhere... right?

Grr... relief or not, she still thought it was a stupid idea, and thanks to her stupid heat, she couldn't even appreciate the golden opportunity that had presented itself. Two hot female colleagues, turned on like nothing else, wearing sexy, skimpy lingerie and right there within arm's reach... if she'd still been Giancarlo, the situation would have been perfect, and even if he'd been able to do nothing but leer, the mental images would have been enough to savor for a while.

Okay, if she'd still been Giancarlo, she'd have been doing a lot more than just looking. Instead, though, she was one of the heated bitches in question, wearing her own stupid set of too-revealing underwear, and too heated to even appreciate the beauty of her co-workers - on a normal day, at least, she could appreciate women in a certain way even if she couldn't really act on that appreciation. When she was in heat, though, the sight of a sexy woman just really didn't do a whole lot, while paradoxically, and disturbingly, the sight of an attractive guy just caused things to rev up even more.

Dammit... she so wanted to be a guy again, right fucking now. She might even consider forswearing rape entirely, if it meant she could avoid all the stupidity and ickiness of heat. That, however, wasn't the boneheap's game at all, and as much as the wishful thought crossed through her head, when she glanced down for a moment she was still resolutely female, very much still in her skivvies, and absolutely dripping with heat that would only continue to demand that she resolve it.

In any case, they had arrived, and that meant it was probably far too late to back out now. The place, at least, looked relatively classy: not like some sleazy hotel or nightclub like she'd expected. In fact, it didn't really look much like that sort of club at all - aside from the new-agey sounding name "Relaxief" on a sign out front, the building looked basically like a standard, two-story office complex, albeit one entirely devoid of windows on the first floor, and those on the second were especially mirrored.

The only real clue that something else was going on, actually, was the strange division of parking that the building seemed to have. Off to one side, there was the standard pay-lot, tollbooth and all, but over by the entrance was a pole-mounted sign in glowing blue neon, shaped to look like the universal symbol for male. Its counterpart, though, was set on the sidewalk near the building's front face, and as she pulled closer, she realized that it stood next to the standard sort of entrance for an underground parking garage.

Gianna pulled the car into the driveway, and down the ramp, expecting the usual enclosed structure, blinking in surprise at what was revealed once the car had finished its descent. The actual parking, if any, was located behind a metal gate discreetly off to the side; directly in front of her, though, seemed to be a replica of one of those roundabouts you'd find driving up to a fancy hotel, complete with light-studded marquee jutting out above a pair of glass double doors fitted with gleaming brass handles. Out front was a valet stand, complete with a female, feline valet in a smart-looking uniform, and another woman stood by closer to the door, this one with a regal, smooth-lined Doberman physique tucked smartly into a form-fitting black mini-dress.

Well, this was it, then. At least the entryway was secluded and discreet, tucked away from the street and anyone's prying eyes - as they were pulling up, she'd actually wondered whether they were going to have to traverse a parking lot, in public, dressed as they were. Thankfully, all the visible employees were also female, so there wouldn't be any intrusive attention off the bat. Nevertheless, though, she was more than aware of what awaited them inside, and after she pulled the car up, she sat there for a moment, not quite able to will herself to open the door. The valet, however, was more than happy to do it for her, gesturing graciously for her to exit, and a moment later the metal gate was opening to allow her valet-driven car to be tucked safely away in the garage proper. Which left the three of them, then, standing on the carpeted entryway before the double doors - with Gianna at least still feeling uncomfortably exposed in her skimpy attire, especially as the woman in the mini-dress seemed to be looking them over with a critical eye. After a moment, though, she displayed a warm, intense smile, taking a step forward to approach them.

"So... I take it you're Amanda, Heather, and Gianna? The description fits, and there's no question you've come to the right place. I don't mean any offense by giving you the once-over, of course - as we strive to be an entirely different class from the norm, and operate at a certain level of exclusivity in terms of the men who are allowed to access this establishment, so the women must meet a certain standard as well. Which the three of you, of course, exceed by quite a comfortable margin. I'll just need to scan your IDs for a moment, though... don't worry, we don't store anything, just have to do a quick verification of a few things..."

They duly retrieved them from their purses - given how they were all dressed, it seemed unlikely they could have stored them anywhere else. The hostess, in turn, reached down into a compartment on the valet stand, retrieving a small tablet and powering it on. She let its scanner quickly play over the ID cards, and in a few moments it beeped satisfactorily. "Yes, everything looks good - I've verified that your anti-ovulation shots are current or the requirement is otherwise satisfied. Perhaps such a requirement seems odd, but we're not a sperm bank, and we tend to frown on consequences that could complicate how this all works. Everything else is in order, so we just have to go over a few ground rules, since it's your first time..."

She looked down, tapping something into the tablet, as Gianna looked over at Heather somewhat curiously. Despite what she'd seen, she hadn't expected Heather to be so completely accepting of her female status that she'd been willing to accept the gynecological exam that had been required to get the shot. Either that, or the supernaturally annoying sack of bones had decided to meddle with her insides even further, as it had with Gianna... Whatever it was, though, it wasn't that important, and Gianna was having a hard enough time focusing as it was. At least they weren't in the place proper yet - in her current state, even the scent of a guy would strip away most of her concentration. Yet one more thing to hate about heat, but at least this one was basically guaranteed to be taken care of one way or another at this point, and once it was over, she'd be that much closer to being done with them, and being a female, for good. All she had to do was find a way to get through the next few hours without suffering too much humiliation, including standing there in the open in glorified lingerie while the hostess droned on...

"I know you're probably all eager to get in there and take part in what we have to offer, so I'll keep this quick. There are only a few terms, but we do have to go over them. For women, of course, the vast majority of what we have to offer is free of charge, the only exception really being the cash bar. In return, though, you agree to stay for a minimum of three hours, and if you choose to leave early, you will have to pay a penalty. You can stay with your initial partner if the both of you are so inclined, or you can be with as many as you like, but it is expected that the majority of your time will be spent exercising your heat with a willing guy. Just remember - however you feel about who you're with, there are no names here: you don't ask theirs, they don't ask yours, and that way things don't get... complicated, afterwards. Also, as we are a predominantly canine establishment, I have to point out a couple more things: you will be expected to take knots, stay knotted for the duration, and all contact will take place without condoms or other barriers." She paused, glancing over the three of them quickly. "Although, given your breeds and your current condition, somehow I doubt that will pose a problem for any of you."

She reached over, proffering the tablet to Amanda. "That's just a release indicating that you understand what I just said, and agree to the conditions. Just use your finger to sign down there at the bottom, and we'll have you settled in and appreciating everything we have to offer in no time at all..."

So... this was it, then. Gianna looked over as the tablet was passed down the line, somehow managing to feel a renewed sense of trepidation even as the crotch of her shorts clung even more tightly to her heat-drenched spade.

The trepidation, predictably, came courtesy of another batch of memories from Giancarlo, apparently triggered by the place's proximity. True enough, Giancarlo had used places like this now and again, although never one that was quite this upscale - despite his rugged form, he cleaned up reasonably well enough, but wasn't exactly part of the tuxedo-and-limousine crowd. This place probably wasn't as exclusive as all that, but the ones Giancarlo had liked were at least a couple of steps lower, although still a step up from the really skeezy places - spend too much time there, and you'd end up being identified as a creep, which was the last thing Giancarlo had wanted.

No, he'd picked places like that far more out of laziness than anything else. Sometimes he wasn't quite feeling up to the hunt, but wanted something more than just a fling with some drunken, demanding bitch he'd picked up at a bar. Entrance to a heat club cost a pretty penny, far more than a couple of cheap drinks, but he'd lived cheaply enough to afford a splurge on occasion. And when you got right down to it, there really was no place better than a heat club to just get your hands on some bitch, tackle her down onto a mattress or a padded floor, and casually dominate the fuck out of her, knot and all.

The thing was, though, usually the kind of women who attended heat clubs were the ones that were desperate enough to take all comers, and when a woman was that far into heat, you didn't have to even try to dominate them - having a strong, unhesitating guy pin them down and fuck them all but senseless was basically the entire idea. For him, it hadn't been ideal - the utter lack of resistance was actually kind of a turn-off, and he couldn't exercise the true sort of domination he preferred without getting in way more trouble than it was worth. Sometimes, though, he just wanted to get his dick wet, get that knot in and feel a bitch gush all around it, fuck her into a limp, moaning puddle and then shoot off deep inside her, knowing her tightly-knotted body could feel every spurt flooding directly into her womb. The idea that she was enjoying it, though, instead of being put humiliatingly in her place, meant that he actually felt kind of deflated hearing her actually enjoy his cum splashing inside her, and it meant that Giancarlo hadn't hit up heat clubs unless he was fairly desperate himself.

The trouble was, this time she was on the opposite end of it, while at the same time knowing just how quickly things could progress for the women involved. Admittedly, Giancarlo had been kind of an expert at getting women quickly controlled, stripped, and penetrated, but the speed at which he'd been able to take down women there had been stunning - no outer layers of clothing to deal with, no real resistance to overcome. All it took was a hand yanking the panties down off of her ass, coupled with a foot hooked around her ankle and a quick shove to trip her into falling over onto wherever she was about to get fucked. Then, just aim for the big, puffy, heat-swollen spade that was impossible to miss, and in less than ten seconds a woman who'd been standing there talking was instantly prone, speechless, gasping and moaning uncontrollably as she was inexorably fucked into utter submission.

After what she'd just been through, it was about the least appealing fate possible, and yet just thinking about it possibly happening to her was clouding her heat-addled mind and thrumming arousal almost painfully between her legs. Dammit! The urges of heat were already just about beyond control, and there was no going back now, especially considering the car was parked away somewhere, and none of her companions were at all interested in going anywhere either - if she tried to do a runner, assuming she even could with her spade causing her to squirm with each step, she'd probably make it about as far as the next alley over before turning into the gangbang special for whatever guys happened upon her. No, thanks to the boneheap, this was the only way to get out of her predicament now, and when the tablet reached her she signed on the line next to her name, trying to somehow resign her conscious self to a fate that she might ultimately have been responsible for, but couldn't help but dread nonetheless.

"All right! You should be all set, now. I assume your purses have the clothes you'll change into afterward, so I'll just hang onto them for now - we'll keep them in a safe place and make sure that their contents aren't disturbed, as they might otherwise be if things ended up happening in their vicinity. That, and it makes sure nothing potentially problematic, like cellphones or other recording devices, make it onto the floor - the way you're dressed, somehow I doubt you're concealing anything. In all fairness, though, guys aren't allowed to wear much more - form-fitting trunks, at maximum. Better eye candy for everyone that way, and helps to keep things immediate and flowing smoothly."

She went around, collecting their purses, and while Gianna was a little reluctant, she gave in as well - she didn't exactly like being unarmed, anywhere, but considering what the damn boneheap had already done to her weapon skills, she doubted it would make much of a difference either way. Plus, she knew from repeated, depressing experience that resistance wasn't something her body would be particularly interested in at the moment, no matter what she actually thought about it.

With that, the introduction wrapped up, and the woman went over and held open one of the doors, beckoning them to enter. They walked inside, down a velvet-carpeted hallway done up with mirrors at regular intervals on the walls, Gianna feeling the softness of the carpet gliding beneath her naked footpads as she walked forward. She had no intention of spending time glancing at her own torturously feminine figure as she walked, something she was sure the abbreviated clothing she wore would only accentuate, but at least she managed to trail after everyone else, the mirrors giving her a show by putting Heather and Amanda on display from several different angles as they walked. Oh, if only she were Giancarlo right now... but all thinking like that did was return her attention to how much she wasn't, to the way that her breasts bounced with every step inside the stupid thing she wore on her chest, and the way her squirmy, dripping spade probably already had its stupid pads swelled open enough that a guy wouldn't even have to really try to get himself stuck all the way in.

"Ah, yes... so, through that doorway over there, that's gonna be you. The room's all fixed up and waiting, and there's already a trio of guys in there just for you. Actually, I think they're a group of friends as well, the way I assume you are - something of a rarity, actually, considering most guys don't tend to like an audience, especially from someone they know. They have of course been carefully vetted, passed strength tests to ensure that you're in comfortably masculine hands, and endurance tests to make sure they can go the distance, and keep you knotted for the kind of duration that can quench even the strongest heat. Plus, their dimensions should be quite enjoyable, big enough to fill you comfortably and completely, but something that each of you should be able to handle easily in your current states. So, here we are," she said, swinging open the door and quickly ushering them all inside. "All right - need anything, there are call buttons along the wall, and the door on the other side leads to the bar, other amenities, and a common area with other potential partners. You're all set - have fun!" And with that, she swung the door closed, leaving the three of them alone in the room - if, by alone, you included the trio of muscular young men standing on the other side of it, looking at them with a predatory sense of appreciation.

Their ancestry was readily apparent: a wiry yet muscular guy with Border Collie heritage on one side, and a stocky, solid-looking German Shepherd on the other. The one in between them could actually be considered diminutive for someone of Malamute inheritance, but he still towered about half a head above his reasonably tall mates - and as one of the breeds closest to Gianna's own wolven heritage, he had a physique to match, probably even out-muscling the frame that Giancarlo had possessed.

For some reason, probably because they had some mistaken notion that it was sexy, they were all wearing tight, identical trunks, patterned in black and white to look like they were part of a tuxedo, complete with a red bow tie graphically etched onto the waistband. To Gianna, though, they looked patently ridiculous, especially since the graphics were stretched and deformed by the considerable bulges poking out from the front of them - bulges that, in her heated state, it took a considerable amount of effort to look away from. Certainly, they didn't need that styling to show that they were well-off enough, with the sort of healthy, lustrous fur of the kind that came from cushy indoor work, away from exposure to industry or the elements. Well, that, and the fact that their physiques were obviously carefully sculpted, the product of gym time rather than actual heavy lifting. They were, in fact, the kind of guys that Giancarlo would have felt unbridled contempt for, the kind of cocky, entitled posers that would end up cowering and whimpering on the floor as soon as the punches started flying. In her current state, though, that sort of entitled confidence was more than a little intimidating, especially since the Malamute one, who had fixed his gaze on certain particular parts of her since noticing Gianna's ancestry, was already striding directly towards her.

Gianna meant to take a step back, to give herself a moment more to think, but instead her body froze up at the sight of the guy approaching, tall enough given her current stature to tower over her just enough to emphasize his intimidating form. He didn't even say a word as he approached, just flashed her a wide, confident grin, tongue flicking out to lick along his muzzle. He was two steps away, one, and she wanted to do something, say something, but thanks to the boneheap and her stupid decision this was what she was stuck with, this was her fate-

-and then a hand was pressing into the small of her back, just above the base of her tail, pulling her a stumbling step forward to end up with her muzzle half-buried in the white-flecked grey fur of his chest. His scent flooded her nostrils, a clean line of cologne intermingled with his deep, masculine musk, shattering what resistance she'd managed to collect, even as the solid grip of his other hand clamped tightly around her butt and lifted her up practically onto her tiptoes - just high enough so that when he pulled the rest of her against him, the bulge of his shorts shoved in through the thigh-gap between her legs, pressing hard against the outline of her spade through her inadequate shorts. And just like that, her knees were suddenly going weak, desperate wetness instantly flowing down across a spade that was beyond ready to yield before the masculine presence being aggressively forced up against it.

Gianna grimaced in frustration, suddenly trapped and squirming inadequately within the man's unrelenting grip, furious at a body that seemed less and less inclined to respond to her wishes with each passing moment. Thanks to one stupid decision, even with all her preparation, her grand plan to avoid yet another heat filled with overwhelmingly feminine submission seemed to be slipping away all over again...