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Frand had stormed out and the house was quiet, but Elizabeth couldn't sleep. Her stomach was knotted with tension, worrying about her little sister, and whether she'd been able to escape. Just a bit lower, her belly was an ocean of slimy warmth that shifted whenever she moved, Frand's double loads swirling copiously deep within her. Some of it still leaked out of her, shame seeping into her panties, but she couldn't worry about that now. She was almost certainly bred by now, and if she ran away too, then Naomi... she hadn't been the best mother ever, but if all her daughters ran, then Frand would certainly kill her. As long as her little sister was safe, as long as she got away, Elizabeth would endure for as long as she had to.

She finally fell asleep, fitful, heated dreams of Frand mercilessly humping her flashing across her tormented mind. When she finally awoke, the thinnest sliver of sunlight was shining in under the blocked door - and the front door was slamming shut around an angry snarl. It was followed by a yelp of surprise from Naomi, a few stomping steps forward, and a reverberating slap that made Elizabeth cringe. She braced herself for the sound of the fleshy thuds of Naomi being beaten, but the only sounds that followed were that of wood splintering and glass shattering, interspersed occasionally with Naomi's soft sobbing.

And then, with a scraping shuffle, whatever had been shoved in front of the door slid away, and the door spring open to reveal Frand in the doorway, his eyes flashing and an angry snarl on his face. As soon as he saw Elizabeth still huddled in bed, though, his expression softened, and he actually smiled gratefully.

"Oh, my girl, my good little girl... You stayed. You didn't try and run like your bitch of a sister. You at least still love me."

Frand walked over and sat down heavily on the side of her bed, stroking the fur on her cheek lightly with his hand. He was wearing a muscle tee, a pair of faded, grayish briefs, and a few remaining tatters of the blue jeans he'd either torn while running through the woods, or messing up the house afterward. He seemed... not quite different, but maybe momentarily deflated, his anger spent.

"Daddy loves you too," he continued, leaning over and tugging her covers down. "You're my good daughter, my loyal daughter, and I would never betray you. I'm going to love you, and give you everything you need, and we're going to be happy. We're going to be so, so happy. A nice happy family again. No traitorous bitches. Just Daddy, two nice, sweet loving mommies, and a bouncing baby boy."

He leaned down, whispering in Elizabeth's ear. "Our bouncing baby boy. A cute, fluffy baby boy that you're gonna love so much. And I'm going to love you until it's guaranteed that he's planted in your warm, fertile belly, and our happy family can begin."

Elizabeth tensed at what he said, but he had already reached out, grabbing her shoulder and swiftly flipping her over. She mmphed in surprise into her pillow, but he was already tugging her panties down, and there wasn't even time to whine or struggle before Frand forced himself inside her. Soon, her world was Frand panting and heat thudding between her legs until the knot stretched her, tied her, and forced her into the same desperate struggle with intensity, a struggle that gave way to shuddering spasms of orgasm as her body inevitably lost control and gave in to massage ecstatically around her father's white-hot intrusion. Her soft sobbing matched Naomi's as she felt another load throb up through her insides to linger within her belly, a sad reminder of just how much Frand was in control: parts of him flooded through her, permeated her insides, saturating her ova and violently forcing new life to form within her. And, most horribly of all, she knew that this was only the beginning, and that Frand would linger inside her, again and again, until there was no chance at all to avoid the fate that Frand wanted for her.

When he finally pulled out of her, he was too exhausted to go again, providing her with a brief respite. She got up, cleaned up as best she could, and walked back into the living room. There was nowhere to go, though - Frand had shoved a heavy bookcase up in front of the door.

Naomi was in the kitchen, alternately drinking and sobbing, and no help to anyone at all. Elizabeth ignored her as best she could and fixed herself something to eat, although she wasn't all that hungry. At least, for the moment, she could stop worrying about Jessica - Frand had failed in his pursuit, and her little sister had gotten away, hopefully to somewhere safe as Natalie had managed to.

With nothing better to do, she turned on the TV, sinking down into the couch and trying to turn all her focus to the plights of the figures on the screen, to give herself a respite from what her life had now become. It didn't last long, though, as a while later Frand sat down next to her with a thud. Then he called Naomi in from the kitchen, ordered her to stand to the side and watch, and then jammed his hand down the front of Elizabeth's panties. She tried to tune it all out, just focus on the show, but soon she squirmed and shuddered, cried out and gave in to Frand's insistence. Then she was on his lap, her panties pulled roughly to the side, letting out the barking cries that seemed beyond her control as he took her again, while Naomi watched, looking even more blank-eyed and passive than before.

Elizabeth watched the rest of the show, trying to ignore the occasional throb of Frand's knot as it sat lodged within her tautly-stretched insides. As soon as the show ended, though, he pulled out unceremoniously, tugged her panties back into place, and sent her upward with a firm pat on her behind. She felt raw in more ways than one, and wanted to do nothing more than take a shower and curl back up in her bed, but Frand grabbed her arm and stopped her when he saw she was headed for the bathroom.

"Hey now, girl, it's not time for that just yet. Have to let things settle first to make sure you don't wash away anything important." Instead, he pulled her back over to the couch and had her lie down on her back across his lap, feeling as he slid his hands under her shirt and massaged her stomach - probably under some superstitious impression that doing so would help her fertility. When she tried to get up, though, his hands pressed her back down and held her in place, and after a moment of squirming she realized the futility of it and let Frand do what he wanted. It still stung emotionally, though - not much, but it was yet another tiny, incremental defeat, one more thing to give truth to the fact that she was, more and more, under her father's complete control, with every suppressed act of defiance, no matter how minor, lending to that sense of futility. She had maybe had the slightest window of escape, after the first night, but she had sacrificed it to save her sister. She'd known, when she had, that there would be consequences to that choice, but she hadn't considered that they would be this intense: that, in a sense that was becoming more real with each passing moment, her body now essentially belonged to Frand, and she was powerless to stop him from doing whatever he wanted to her.

He finally let her up when Naomi called out flatly that dinner was ready. They sat around the table and awkwardly ate, Naomi making a few half-hearted attempts at normal dinner conversation. In fact, just the sense of it being normal, just another dinner at the table, was incredibly jarring in the face of what was really going on. In a strange sort of way, it was really a matter of inches: above the table, she was a cute, if subdued, high school senior just eating dinner with her poor but essentially normal-looking family. Below it, though, just out of view, she wore only a pair of sexily-cut panties, pulled too tight against her heatedly-swollen mound, her father's seed trickling steadily out to thoroughly soil the fabric. What, she wondered, would her friends think?

Would she even be able to see them again?

Dinner concluded in silence, after which Frand hauled Elizabeth to her feet and pulled her in the direction of the bathroom: apparently, now it was time to clean up. Once she was in the bathroom, though, Frand didn't leave her to clean up - instead, he stood there expectantly, but when she just stood there as well, he flexed his claws and threatened to ruin even more of her clothing. She capitulated and stripped, looking down at her feet, before stepping into the shower stall. Frand, of course, wouldn't let her close that door either, but thankfully there was still plenty of hot water, and the steam at least served to partially obscure Frand's form as he watched her clean herself. She could still see his silhouette moving around in the mist, though, certainly staring relentlessly, but at the very least he wasn't stepping inside to join her. Thankful for the respite, she washed up carefully, angling her body so that Frand could only see her in profile and spending as little time as necessary washing parts of her that might be titillating. It didn't do much good, though; when she finished up, and the mist began to clear, Frand was still watching her as intently as ever. Now, though, he was just as naked as she was, his thick red cock standing at attention, held up by the fist-like knot that sat fully swelled against the top of his sheath.

She braced herself, but Frand just grabbed a towel and wrapped her up in it, buffing rapidly at her fur to dry it off. Then he drew her in close, his shaft lying flat and hot against the length of her mound, and for a while he just held her in place, letting her feel his intimate presence pressing against her sensitive flesh, letting her feel every subtle throb and minute motion as he shifted against her. The shaft was pressed in close enough that she realized she could actually feel her father's pulse throbbing through it. Its presence was undeniable, and as much as her mind might have wanted to deny it, her heated body had no intention of doing so. As soon as Frand felt her nether lips drooling slick moisture along his shaft though, he hoisted her over his shoulder again.

As they made their way to the bedroom, they passed Naomi in the hallway, and even after all the other indignities, Elizabeth still flushed with shame for her mother to see the two of them like this: draped across his shoulder with her soaked pussy on display, waiting to be used, as his erection left no question whatsoever as to what would happen when they reached their destination. Instead of looking neutral, though, or even disgusted, Elizabeth was surprised to see Naomi smile at her slightly as she passed, and whispered in her ear.

"You're being such a good daughter, taking care of my Frand in the way that he needs. Thank you for doing this for me. Mommy loves you." And with that, she was gone down the hall, as the horror of what she had just heard settled Elizabeth's stomach to sit uncomfortably alongside the unnatural warmth lower down. After what had transpired earlier, she hadn't really expected Naomi to stand up for her, or go against Frand, but to say something like that, to tacitly accept and collude with his advances, meant that her mother had somehow given in and accepted what Frand was doing to her, for whatever benefits to Naomi such a decision might bring; and with that, there truly was no hope for anyone to intervene. If Naomi was happy with the current situation, and Natalie and Jessica were in no position to provide any help at all, that meant that there was absolutely no one left to get in the way of Frand burying his lust, and his child, deep inside her.

As soon as they reached the room, she bounced on the bed, the lock clicked shut, and things progressed exactly as she knew they would, only slightly quicker without any clothes to get in the way. No foreplay, no gentleness, no mercy, just Frand letting his animal side take over and forcing her body to submit, and then thrill at and enjoy his violations again and again. The display in the shower had evidently fired him up, and she felt him knot and flood her belly three times in quick succession, his cock barely retreating before it was back to forcing her hips to buck and rock as her body barely accommodated his relentless thrusts.

Finally, though, it was over - although this time, instead of carting her back to her room, he drew her into his arms and cuddled his body against hers, side by side. There was nothing to say, and nowhere to go, and she was so exhausted and trembling from the unwanted, uncontrolled climaxes that Frand's knot had forced her body to spasm through that she didn't even bother trying to squirm away. In fact, in a perverse sort of way, it was actually kind of nice, just cuddling there with her dad, and it was certainly the gentlest that Frand had been with her since she could remember. Eventually, her heart and breathing slowed, and she settled against him in a daze that hovered on the verge of sleep. At some point, she felt him shift away from her and get up, letting someone into the room, and then he settled back down against her, pulling in close as she felt someone against her back as well. Naomi was true to her words, seeming not to care at all that Elizabeth was taking her place against Frand's side - instead, her mother snuggled up against her, gently cradling her arms and nuzzling her neck like she had when Elizabeth was a child, lulling her to sleep in the combined warmth of her parents' fur. It was so wrong, in so many ways, but Elizabeth was too tired to care - in the most basic way, it felt warm and good, and even Frand's fuzzy sheath rocking in against her instinctually and nuzzling at her clit as he slumbered only managed to elicit a handful of tensed, pulsing throbs before her body relaxed entirely and drifted deeply into sleep to recuperate from the forced exertions of the day.

As soon as she woke up, though, the respite was over. The first thing she felt when she woke up were her father's fingers curled up inside her, fishing around for sensitive spots, and her body complying in response by flooding his fingers with wet warmth. As soon as he noticed she was awake, though, he rolled her over and rolled himself on top of her, mashing their muzzles together in a wet, sloppy combination between a kiss and a tongue bath, even as his tip slammed hard against her pussy lips and shoved them roughly aside, his hips quickly slamming hard against her overwhelmed, flailing body as it instinctively worked toward yet another inevitable hilting. This time, though, her mom was lying there beside her, watching with that same slight, creepy smile as her daughter was bucked and rutted relentlessly by her husband. As horrifying as that was, especially when Elizabeth saw her mother's hand reach meaningfully down under the waistband of her own panties, it was only incrementally more so that what she had already gone through, and did nothing to stop the inevitable knotting, and the even more inevitable climax - first hers, and then, soon afterward, her father's. When he pulled out, though, there was little to celebrate over than the fact that, at least for the moment, it was over again; when he tugged down Naomi's panties, and jammed a cock still slick with her daughter's juices inside her, even the sight of her own parents locked in an unashamed carnal embrace beside her didn't spawn any of the expected emotions, beyond a sense of cold relief that it meant her body would get a guaranteed respite from Frand's demands on it. Her pussy ached from its repeated stretching, but it was, disappointingly, more an ache of satiation rather than anything else, and quickly mitigated by the seemingly irrepressible heat that throbbed even further within.

Finally, her parents were finished and she was able to get up and leave the room, pulling on the meagre clothes she was allowed. As expected, though, school was out of the question - the bookcase was still lodged against the front door, and only moved when Frand let Naomi go out, either to the store or to sell some firewood and moonshine that he'd stockpiled. For Elizabeth, though, her world rapidly dwindled to the confines of the house, and Frand's never-ceasing presence nearby.

Her life quickly settled into a depressing new routine. For the next several days, instead of her now-absent sister shaking her gently awake, her alarm clock was the rude awakening of Frand's probing fingers, followed by being shocked into alertness by Frand's pounding thrusts until the climax sent her spiraling back into a daze, watching as her mother enjoyed Frand's virility and relative kindness toward her at her daughter's expense. Then it was time to get up, and there was nothing to do but wander around the house, or watch TV, or try and fail to study schoolwork that now seemed irrelevant - with Frand always nearby, watching and waiting. Every morning, she'd pull on a new pair of panties, and within a couple of hours, no matter how tired she was, no matter how much her pussy ached, the warmth throbbed low in her belly and began to inevitably bleed through, mixing with Frand's seed already inside her to soak the crotch of her panties all over again. Just as inevitably, as soon as Frand noticed that, he'd grab her, hold her against the couch or wall or floor wherever they happened to be, tug her panties down around her thighs and take her just as roughly and unceremoniously as he had each time before. And, just like each time before, she would feel the humiliation bleed through to numbness as her body succumbed and yielded to each thrust, even the knotting becoming perfunctory and routine - she even, to her shame, began to anticipate the few seconds of pure, raw, mind-blanking sensory overload that came each time the knot pushed her petite body to its limits, followed by the howling, pulsing, animal climax that Frand's rough mating forced through her. It was perverse, and her conscious mind rebelled at giving in to Frand's domination in such an undeniable way, but given how inevitable each assault was, it was far easier on her psyche to focus on the rewards her body delivered to her unbidden during each rough, thudding mating, than to think about how overwhelmingly humiliating the entire situation was.

Humiliating, really, didn't even begin to describe it. Frand was like a force of nature: inevitable, merciless, and unpredictable only in the sense of not knowing when the next predictable assault would occur. He was on her all the time, touching, watching, pouncing as soon as her body had reset in order to flood it all over again. His contemptible scent was rubbed into every inch of her fur, and even showering didn't get it out; even when she was actually using the bathroom, one of the few times Frand wasn't watching her, his presence still enveloped her every time she breathed in. Day after day, Frand was her life, the inevitable focus of everything she did, and everything that was done to her. Each day was punctuated by his intimate presence, and each night was spent being pounded into the sheets on her parents' bed, acting almost as Frand's surrogate wife, crying out in vain as her body writhed and shuddered around his knot again and again, finishing each day as it had started: in her father's sick, gentle, unyielding embrace, her body pumped full of his warm, corrupt seed, happy to succumb to the warm embrace of exhausted sleep that helped her to deny, for a few moments longer, the inevitability that at least one child had been conceived and was already settled, minuscule but growing, in her belly.

Eventually, mercifully, the week was finally up, and the wetness and swelling subsided, along with the hormones and pheromones that had almost certainly contributed to Frand's weeklong tryst with her. Once it was over, Frand's constant presence and repeated assaults quickly subsided, and she was allowed to return and sleep in her own bed, cuddled up in the covers and ashamed that she missed the warm physical comfort of her parents beside her, one of the few perks of the awful week that she'd somehow endured.

There would be no more school, though, and no friends - apparently, Frand didn't trust her not to run, so he filed some papers to pull her out of school and have Naomi "home-school" her. That mainly consisted of Naomi watching soap operas while she read schoolbooks to herself, but compared to everything else that had happened such a situation was practically paradise, especially now that Frand was gone much of the day doing honest work, the better to provide for the son he seemed sure that Elizabeth would soon have.

When he was home, though, there was still some attention, but not nearly as much as there had been. They still could only wear shirts and panties in the house, and Elizabeth still had to endure the occasional lingering stare, or grope of her breast or panty-clad butt. Aside from the occasional hand rubbing her through her panties to a forceful orgasm as they watched TV, though, Frand's demands quickly settled into a usual, bearable routine: A communal shower with her parents after dinner, letting Frand work his hands along her body, after which they went to the bedroom for the main event. Frand alternated between them, taking them twice each without using the knot, then snuggled with them until the afterglow wore off before sending Elizabeth off to her room with the customary firm pat on the butt.

Still, now that Elizabeth was used to it, it wasn't so horrible, and eventually went from a sense of lingering humiliation to that of a halfway-pleasant, unavoidable routine. Plus, to go along with it, Frand was now happy and productive almost all of the time, and now that they were giving him everything he wanted, didn't lay a hand on them in anger at all. In a way, it was a relief, and actually almost normal, but it was also accompanied by strange feelings and undeniable changes in her body as the consequences of her heated fertility and Frand's overwhelming seed grew steadily in her belly. She collapsed back into her halfway-pleasant denial as much as she could, even as she knew that the true humiliation and horror would arrive some months down the road. The damage had been done; as wrong as it was, she would now bear her father's child, and there was nothing at all she could do to stop that from happening.

In fact, she had resigned herself to that fate almost entirely, and focused her energy on just moving on and making it through her predicament, when she heard Frand talking on the phone with someone from the legal aid office - something about parental rights and sheriff's enforcement. As she listened, though, she realized with a sense of dread that the conversation was about Jessica. Frand had never talked about what had happened the night that she escaped, but apparently he knew where she was, and he had never given up on getting her back.

Elizabeth, though, was as trapped as it was possible to get, and in no position to help, or even get a message to her sister about the danger that was on its way. What Elizabeth had been through was bad enough, but she had somehow endured it, and kept herself together, with the knowledge that at least her sister would have a better and safer life. If Jessica fell back under Frand's inescapable orbit, though, Elizabeth knew what the inevitable result would be - and if that happened, if she were forced to watch her sister being violated like that, again and again, Elizabeth didn't know how she would be able to live with herself. Instead she silently hoped that somehow Frand's plans would fail, and there would still be some improbable but successful way for at least one of them to remain free.

Still, when Frand went hunting one day, Elizabeth "misplaced" the safety lock for his rifle, and Frand, as she had hoped, was careless enough not to bother with tracking it down or replacing it. It was secreted, much more carefully this time, with a couple of old but still-intact cartridges; Elizabeth had found them rattling around in a rucksack while cleaning one of the closets, and had been there so long Frand probably didn't even know they were there and would hardly notice they were gone. She hoped that she would never have to retrieve them, and she was well resigned to her own fate and the acceptable normalcy of her life. If Frand did bring Jessica back, though, and was ready to force her, Elizabeth wasn't sure what she would do; but whatever she did, there was now one more desperate option on the table. It was an option she would never consider to save only herself... but when it came to her sister, anything was possible.