Three Dog Night

Author's note: This story has elements of non-human, mind control, female submission and non-consent/reluctance.

Please do skip it if these elements are unappealing to you.

It is a little weird, and definitely not for everyone.

Please do not read this if you are 18, are not allowed to read it in your area or find it offensive.

Please do send feedback and comments, they are greatly appreciated. If folks like this story line, please let me know, and it can be expanded with additional chapters.

Special thanks to Murkedly for excellent notes and edits.

***

Frieda ran hard through the half overgrown trail, her eyes straining in the dimming light of the sinking sun.

She cursed to herself her stupidity. She should never have taken that shortcut, not so close to nightfall.

The 19-year old had stayed too long at her Grandmother's cabin. She loved the graying woman quite dearly, and had lost track of time as they chatted.

Using the short cut she had thought she could make the three hour hike home in less than two, but when she reached the ford in the big stream, she saw that recent storms had swollen the normally gentle stream to a raging river. The current was too strong even for a strong swimmer, and Frieda was far from that.

Frieda's mind raced through her options. She was closer to her village than her grandmother's stout wooden cabin, and any close-by logging camps were closed for the winter.

So she turned and sprinted down the small, seldom used side trail towards her village as fast as her strong young thighs could carry her.

Without breaking stride, the blonde discarded her heavy leather satchel, and a couple long legged strides later cast off her burgundy colored cloak and hood to lighten her load.

In the gathering gloom, small whips of branches stung the soft milky skin of her face, and the trees flew by almost as blurs.

The young blonde woman cursed her breasts. They were far larger than any unmarried woman in the village, and they bounced painfully as she sprinted through the ever darkening forest. Her smooth milk pale skin was covered in a thin layer of sweet. Her very breath was like fire.

Then she heard it, and her heart leapt from her chest. An eerie howl, a wolf's call far louder than that of any normal wolf.

Her toned thighs pumped even more furiously. She must be almost home. Soon she would soon see the outline of the church tower and the torches on the village's high wooden walls.

Then she heard a sudden clamor of branches snapping and splintering. The breath left her body as a mass of fur and muscle slammed into her from the side.

She felt a piercing stabbing pain in her shoulder as fangs and teeth bit into her. Frieda struck back, punching and kicking,

Then felt herself flipped over like a rag doll. The heavy, warm weight of gigantic fur covered arms, pressed her downward. A heavy, canine smell filled her nostrils.

Then words came that ran like ice down her spine. They were jagged and guttural. A man's voice, but less than human.

"MMMMM.. Can you smell that? Such a wonderful scent. The sweat and sex of a young fertile woman, mixed with that tart taste of fear..." the low voice growled, "You poor girl, with your dulled senses... you have never really smelled anything, never really heard anything. Never really FELT anything. But you will certainly feel some things this night..."

Frieda screamed, as she felt her simple peasants dress ripped violently from her body. She turned her head around and stared back in horror, her body still pinned to the ground.

In the moonlight, she could see his horrible gigantic member now jutting from a dark mass of fur. Blood trickled from her shoulder to her face.

She shouted and screamed, as a massive paw, insanely strong, spread her legs open.

Then a woman's voice rang out. "He is here... I have found him." It was followed shortly by another woman's voice then another.

A strange woman steeped into a ray of moonlight. Frieda saw that she was completely naked, muscular yet feminine, her long braids of hair swinging as she evades the Wolf.

Frieda felt the weight leave her as the Wolf bounded at this new woman, half running and half leaping on all fours.

But as fast as he was she moved faster, jumping from bush to stone to bush. Massive claws swiped a half-second late, huge jaws caught only empty air.

Then another naked woman appeared, and a third and forth. Each staring unblinkingly at the Beast, knees bent and muscles tense, ready to spring.

The Beast looked at them for a moment, and then let out a howl, a raging boiling howl angry beyond thought. With a great bounding leap, he charged through the circle of women into the thick woods.

Frieda's wound was now flowing freely and her head spinning. She looked on as the women charged into the woods after the Beast, never uttering word.

The last thing she saw before she passed out was the approach of two high boots of worn leather, a man's boots.

***

Frieda awoke beside a fire. She saw the form of a man beside her, and beyond the fire a horse and circle of huge shaggy dogs.

The Man spoke. "I am William the Huntsman. You are very lucky you were discovered when you were."

Frieda tried to speak, but found it impossible. She reached her hand to her neck to find a thick leather collar, woven with silver, and a thick silver ring on the front.

"I am sorry, but you have been bitten under a full moon. You have the Curse. I can never allow you to return to your home," the strange man said. "You are under my protection now. The collar you now wear it will help you control the curse, and control your new instincts."

Frieda sat up, adrenaline pulsing through her veins, a greater surge of energy and strength than she had ever felt.

She had to escape, find her home and the priest and the mayor. Surely they could help her. She jumped and bolted past this new man. The buxom blonde moved quickly, faster than she ever had, even when she was running for her life.

She only made a few long steps, before she heard a soft eerie whistle. Frieda suddenly felt a strange sensation overtaking her, radiating from her strange metal collar. Frieda found herself unable to move, and her legs began to felt like iron, and she slowly sank and found her sitting almost against her will. With each heartbeat she felt the inhuman adrenaline and feeling of fear flow out of her.

William spoke to her. "Do not worry, you will be alright. Rest and we can talk more in the morning. The fire will keep you warm."

He stared into the clear star filled sky, his breath fogging in the bitter cold.

"It will be cold tonight."

He motioned, and two of the large hunting dogs sat up, and then stood up on their hind legs. They shimmered in the firelight, twisting and morphing into the beautiful women Frieda had seen track and fight the Wolf.

As they passed by her to join the Huntsman she also saw each bore a collar of silver like hers.

And William spoke to her once more to her before entering the tent. "Your pack sisters will protect you tonight. Once you begin turning, they will teach you how to track and find those Cursed Beasts we hunt."

As he walked away, Frieda laid down again, turning her back against the campfire. She was naked, as she felt the warmth of the huge fire warm on her back, and the brace of the frost-bearing air on her face and breast. Even away from the first she felt less cold than she would normally expect, and was almost sweating in the night air.

She stared at the past to Master's tent, several yards away from where she and the others stretched out.

In the dim flicker of the firelight, through the tent flap she could sometimes see smooth skin of the women as they coupled with each other and the Master, sometimes the shadow of two people in an embrace. She listened, her own heart pounding, as she heard girlish giggles and muffled playful teases. Then she heard the giggles become moans, and through the flap she caught a glimpse as her master slid into one of his women as the other lay underneath.

Later the moans became screams of pleasure and mad shadowy thrashing.

Then eventually the tent grew quieter and stiller and she heard only soft tender whispers then gentle breathing.

The deep night was cold, Frieda thought, even with the large fire. Her last thoughts as she drifted to sleep was how much better it would be in William the Huntsman's tent, her soft young body and the other two women's pressed naked against her new master, their hot skin warming him as he slept.