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(Note: While there are no actual rape scenes in this chapter, there are a couple of encounters where consent is nebulous at times, hence the precautionary tagging.)

So far as plans went, Gianna's was fairly simple. There was one primary goal: to reach the boneheap's challenge, and finally, at long last, have a real choice about the gender she was going to have. And, of course, the closely related secondary goal of choosing the damn challenge when she got to it, and choosing to go back to being Giancarlo, leaving all of the bullshit that came with being a woman far behind.

To get there, she needed... probably at least a few hundred more points, considering that she couldn't quite recall every single encounter she'd had, and the fact that the boneheap for some reason was keeping meticulous track, making sure every so often to hint at just how much further she had to go.

What she did know, though, was that between the repeated knottings she had to endure in an average heat and the inevitable nonsense that occurred in the intervening days, an average heat cycle of about a week could net her around... fifty points in total, now that she was dealing with her heat by accepting enough tolerable knottings to dissipate it rather than trying to avoid them as much as possible. Figure that she was depressingly somewhere around two hundred points by then, and getting to the challenge threshold would take... six weeks, optimistically. Admittedly, that meant six weeks of prolonged sessions of fucking and knotting, along with not trying to actively avoid any and all sexual contact with guys outside of it. Three hundred points, after all, still added up to seventy-five knottings, a hundred guys spurting inside her, or some combination thereof. Not pleasant, but probably doable - considering everything she'd already been through, it seemed obvious that she could basically tolerate it.

No, the real confounding factor was getting through that long list of encounters with enough of Giancarlo intact that she didn't succumb entirely to the creeping inevitability of desiring her current form. That, specifically, would require a powerful sort of discipline, especially considering the ways her body generally wanted to make her feel. Certain aspects of femininity had already come to feel like second nature, or even more troublingly, enjoyable; if she was going to do this, she couldn't let those feelings progress much further, especially in the realm of sexuality. Which meant that the nature of those inevitable encounters would have to be chosen carefully.

At least during heat, there were some reasonable options, so long as they stayed reasonably available. The gay couple that May had paired her up with did provide a way to remedy heat with the least emotional impact possible, although even that didn't do much to blunt the power of her guaranteed climaxes in the midst of it. That would certainly be something to keep an eye on - like it or not, a knotted climax was a heck of a lot more powerful, and rewarding, than anything Giancarlo had experienced, and while some of his encounters had been more intense in certain ways, the high from being knotted as a woman in heat really was something else. She had to keep that particular something else from sitting in the back of her mind, encouraging her current state, if she was going to commit to the challenge.

In a certain way, she almost had to admit that the heat-club experience was actually a little more useful in that regard, as it carried with it that out-of-control sense and attendant guilty, frustrated repercussions afterwards. But then again, considering just how much submission that forced her through, and how vulnerable her heated mind was to accepting it... no, better to go with the current solution if it presented itself. Plus, there was always the cop to fall back to - although, considering her recent experience, one guy probably wasn't enough for an entire heat, unless they had truly supernatural stamina. And considering that the only person she'd seen with that had been demonically possessed Jonah, that didn't seem a reasonable thing to ask for.

Then again... she hated to admit it, even grimaced at the thought, but outside of heat, there was something to putting herself in a position to get raped rather than seeking out consensual encounters. The reason, precisely, was that getting raped sucked, made her feel humiliated and miserable, and absolutely made her want to stop being a woman - while a consensual sexual encounter might be enjoyable enough that she might actually want more of it. She certainly couldn't trust her body not to let that happen, especially with an internal clit, where she had no real control of how much stimulation it received during sex. On the other hand, though, considering how miserable and aggravated getting raped made her, if it kept happening, again and again... what if it made her break somehow, psychologically? What if it wore her down so much that she couldn't take it any more, and gave in to the boneheap's other proposition merely to get the curse lifted so she wouldn't have to suffer so much more of it?

Either way carried a risk... but on balance, actually setting herself up to get violently, brutally raped seemed the riskier decision by far. After all, she knew that there were other people in the world worse than Giancarlo, and as the thug after Velasco had so recently demonstrated... even if the boneheap might save her from the worst of it physically, if someone decided it would be even more fun to break her psychologically in Giancarlo's preferred style, that could get bad. Considering who she was, Gianna was probably more resistant to it than most, but if she didn't have to take that risk...

Probably better to arrange for something at least semi-consensual, then. Maybe find someone and set it up voluntarily, but every so often choose some super-masculine jerk who'd make her feel miserably feminine while having sex with her, enough to set that chip firmly on her shoulder and keep her determined to get her real form back. Maybe there was a middle way, carefully mixing and matching partners while avoiding the really risky situations, that both got her the points she needed and sucked just enough to keep her motivated. Put that together with her heat solution, and... it just might work.

Of course, there was still the boneheap itself to contend with - and while she was trying to come up with the best plan that she could, the horrid monstrosity was probably already coming up with some new, annoying roadblocks or machinations that would serve to aggravate both her mood and her overall scheme. That, however, she'd only be able to deal with as the new wrinkles revealed themselves, so her plan would have to include enough flexibility that she could wing it when she needed to. How'd that saying go? No plan survives first contact with the enemy? Still, it was at least a start, and with it came a reasonable amount of optimism. Her initial count, nineteen weeks or over four months, would have been one heck of a grind, but if she could get it down to six, it seemed more realistic to push through.

One week in, though, she was forced to temper her optimism with actual results. While a guy's stamina naturally increased when he was exposed to the unique condition of a woman in heat, it still peaked out at a limit far below the capacity for a woman in such a state to handle. The duo that she'd been using to handle her heat... somehow the contact had seemed like more in the midst of it, and the fact that it was back-to-back had done the trick for most of the heat itself. When she actually counted, though, both of them maxed out at three knottings apiece. Throw in a small selection of especially handsy guys in the days that followed, and one ill-advised drunken pounding in the alley behind a vaguely dubious tavern, and the grand total for a full cycle in and out of heat came to thirty points, rather than fifty.

Which... was probably a more reasonable amount. It seemed that fifty could only be doable with a compensatory sacrifice: going to a heat club, which was about the only way to get the volume of knottings necessary (and succumb to all that entailed), or get laid by multiple guys every night that she wasn't in heat. Neither was a very palatable option, which meant that it made more sense to expect thirty points a week instead.

And that, in turn, meant that her optimistic goal of six weeks turned into ten, or a full extra month of dealing with being a woman. Still, it cut her initial estimate nearly in half, but being doggy-piled at a heat club half a dozen more times was probably far riskier for her psyche than four additional and carefully-controlled heats. And since one of them was already done... just nine more fucking weeks. Yeah, it was still half a dozen knottings per, but... hey, it wasn't all that bad, right? At least she was used to it, and with heat and all, in some ways it was kind of... fun...

That was about the point in her analysis that she'd smacked herself in the forehead, hard. No, that was the kind of talk that she was trying to avoid! Besides, whatever feelings she had as a result were overwhelmingly tainted by the crazy hormones that heat sent coursing through her. Any enjoyment from it had to be due to that, and even if it wasn't, that was the story she had to tell herself. The idea of enjoying something so humiliatingly submissive, so aggravatingly female, without some outside force compelling her to feel that way... no, that was an idea that could only lead the the very outcome she feared, which meant that it was something to fight against. And that determination had to last through... fifty-four knottings or so, which meant that she'd have to tell herself whatever it took to persevere with her resolve intact.

Stick to the plan - that was all she had to do, and she'd make it. And for the next few days, it seemed like that was going to work out smoothly enough. It was going closely enough to plan, in fact, that Gianna actually let herself become slightly optimistic about her prospects of making it through with her sanity intact, and her body... reasonably so. Of course, because she'd dared to become optimistic, the boneheap's machinations had to step in and make everything screwy again.

This particular time, though, it wasn't another annoying condition, or some new rape attempt out of left field. In fact, it wasn't even directly related to Gianna or the boneheap's stupid game at all. No, it had to be Heather, of all people, to come careening in and rain all over Gianna's meticulous plans.

Apparently, as she soon discovered, Gianna wasn't the only one who had a screwed-up heat schedule. All Giancarlo had really known about heat was the fact that women who were in it became especially fun to be around, but he'd always just assumed that it happened on some specific schedule; so had Gianna, until, frustrated by the nature of her own, she'd looked it up online.

Sure enough, the schedule she had wasn't particularly unheard-of: while most women were in it for a continuous week every three to four months or so, plenty had more rapid cycles, including some even crazier than hers. Some women had it pop up on every alternating day, and a few particularly tortured ones were basically in heat all the time they were awake. And, while not quite as uncommon as frequent ones, some women had cycles that wavered, so that one time the gap between heats would be three months, and the next would be three weeks. Heather, apparently, was one of the latter group, and her heat had managed to spring up unexpectedly, somehow managing not to coincide with Gianna or Amanda at all.

So, naturally, she'd decided to go back to the heat club entirely on her own, walk into the middle of the main room, strip off whatever lingerie she was wearing, and take all comers for the next several hours. Which was something Gianna wouldn't even have known, had Heather not shown up unannounced, completely dazed and wearing absolutely nothing below the waist, while Gianna had been heating up dinner.

Not exactly knowing what to do with her, or even how she'd managed to get there in her condition, Gianna had ended up sticking Heather on the couch, on top of a hastily-placed towel to catch the copious amount of cum that was still leaking out of her. Her spade, in fact, was so sufficiently swollen that Heather couldn't properly close her thighs around it, instead sitting there with her legs open and her abused pussy on display, so ludicrously spread apart that there wasn't a single pad even close to touching another. Instead, they just sat there alone like ludicrous crimson islands, poking out equidistantly to surround a gloppy abyss of cum.

It was almost nauseating to see, especially considering the way it made Gianna's own insides almost ache in sympathetic response. There was no question that Heather had been done beyond all reason - and yet there she was, with a giant, stupid grin on her face, practically purring with satiated delight as she somehow managed to start stringing words together again, so she could describe her experience to Gianna in excruciating, cringeworthy detail.

Heather had just about gotten through describing the way that the third guy's cock had felt knotted inside her when Gianna managed to tune her out entirely, seriously rethinking her initial plan to keep Heather strategically close. Obviously, she'd managed to get her a little too close, and combined with Hugh's natural predisposition towards ignoring boundaries, well... she'd thought it would be better now that Hugh was female, but she couldn't seem to help taking things to extremes, and slutty Heather was as annoying, if not more, than perverted Hugh.

It was all Gianna could do to eat her microwave dinner and keep herself from glancing between Heather's legs, although that was more from bizarre curiosity than anything else. Even at her most heat-crazed, she was fairly sure she hadn't looked like that - but then again, Heather was a heck of a lot smaller than her, but probably hadn't even attempted to select for smaller guys, and gone at it for the maximum time the heat club allowed. In a state like that, though, even the dwindling part of her that was still Giancarlo couldn't manage to show much interest - he'd preferred keeping his women entirely to himself for the duration, and while some guys absolutely loved the feeling of sloppy twenty-seconds, there didn't seem much point to putting it to someone so worked over that they were basically insensate.

Heather had just kept babbling on, talking endlessly about how great it had been, how every single knot had felt better than the last, and as much as Gianna tried to ignore her, some of her overheated nonsense kept trickling in. It was enough, in fact, that certain automatic parts of Gianna's body had kicked into gear, and after a while, she realized that her own spade was far wetter than it really ought to have been. Was she really starting to get off on Heather's sordid tale of complete and utter submission? Gianna certainly hoped that it was nothing more than some unconscious response, but knowing how she'd felt during her own time at the club, it was hard to deny that Heather was starting to dredge up certain compelling memories.

And yet, that wasn't even the most problematic part of her imposition. No, that had come towards the tail end of her recounting, right as Gianna had finally convinced her to at least pull some panties back on. That was precisely when the boneheap had made another of its annoyingly spontaneous visits - but this time, it all but ignored Gianna completely. Instead, it turned towards Heather, and once again asked if she was ready to be a woman permanently, offering some vague, nebulous reward if she accepted - and, to Gianna's utter consternation, this time Heather accepted the offer, without the slightest shred of doubt or hesitation.

The first thought that flashed through Gianna's mind, after the shock of Heather's ready agreement had passed, was that it was completely unfair for the boneheap to have even asked her while she was still essentially high from the combination of heat and its relief, hormones surely pouring heavily through every part of her. The problem with that reasoning, though, was that the boneheap didn't really care about any notion of fairness - just the rules that it had put into place, and that it was then required to stick to. Since it had never put into place any rules about a particular time or state of mind that were required for it to offer one of its proposals, it apparently had no qualms about using such conditions to its advantage.

Which, in turn, brought with it another worrisome thought: since she went into heat on a regular basis, there were plenty of times when she would be faced with that vulnerable confluence of feelings, and the boneheap could spring one of its feminizing proposals on her during any of those times.

Somehow, she'd have to be even more vigilant. She'd have to do better - but even as she thought that, she could do nothing else but watch as the boneheap brought up its arm, placed it in the center of Heather's chest, and somehow pulled the last few remnants of Hugh from Heather's now wholly female persona.

That really wasn't an exaggeration - while she wasn't quite sure how, Gianna swore that what she was seeing streaming out from the center of Heather's chest really was Hugh's masculine essence. It looked like a trail of light fading away into the boneheap's bony grasp, but mixed within the glow were flashes of scenes, flickering for a moment like they were being displayed on film before fading back into the stream. They were hard to make out, but a few of them almost seemed like home-movie clips from Hugh's life, snippets of the male Hugh at different stages of development.

As she looked closer, though, transfixed by the strange display, she realized that there were other clips mixed in too, but flowing in the opposite direction - clips that seemed similar to some of the others, only these ones had clips that were clearly of a female corgi instead. While it was always possible that the boneheap was generating the visuals for dramatic effect, considering it had done even more far-ranging things with a quick sweep of its hand before, the implication was clear enough: whatever it was that made up the male essence of Hugh, including memories and who knew what else, was being rewritten to conform entirely with Heather. All of his actions, his macho posturing, everything that had made him Hugh before... was being changed, edited, completely feminized.

It had been over soon enough, and just like that, Heather had always been Heather, and what there had been of Hugh essentially ceased to exist. Whatever reward the boneheap had proffered as a result of her acquiescence, it apparently saw fit to reveal to Heather and Heather alone; for a brief moment, a veil of darkness fell over both of them, muting light and sound, and when it dissipated, the boneheap was uncharacteristically still silent. All it did, in fact, was swivel its nebulous form over towards Gianna, fixing her for a moment with its glowing, impassive stare before quickly fading away.

Whatever the boneheap's intent, though, there was no question that Heather was fully, well... Heather, now. In fact, when Gianna started talking to her, trying to probe the extent of what happened, her responses were downright surreal. She truly didn't have any knowledge of who Hugh was at all, or any recollection of his life beforehand. All her memories, from growing up to the present, were all of her as a girl and then a woman, and apparently from her new perspective that didn't seem odd at all.

Even her memories of Gianna had been heavily edited - now, according to her, they'd been friends since high school, and neither one of them had abused or raped the other. In fact, when Gianna had asked about that incident in the mechanic's break room while she'd been in heat, the memory had been twisted around entirely - now, all she remembered was for some reason peeking into the room and seeing Gianna mount some male corgi she'd never seen before! And the van transformation scene had apparently been so completely discordant with Heather's new female-from-birth narrative that it had effectively been written out entirely, and while what her friends had done to her had been basically unchanged, she now remembered it taking place in her own bedroom and on her own bed, with Gianna completely absent from the picture. No, according to what the boneheap had fed her, Heather's memories of being with Gianna sexually instead consisted of several mutual visits to heat clubs, culminating with the one that had actually happened.

That history, of course, was discomfiting for an entirely different reason, but Gianna had barely been able to focus on it. The really terrifying thing was just how easy it had been for the boneheap to remove, well, most everything that had been Hugh from Hugh, leaving behind essentially someone else. Okay, maybe not entirely - Heather's overall personality was still basically classic Hugh, with a particularly slutty female overlay that worked alongside Hugh's naturally aggressive perversion. But any recollection of Hugh's actual history was gone, along with the naturally masculine aggression, or at least posturing, that had made up a large part of what he'd presented to the world. And in its place was... still Hugh in some way, technically, but so thoroughly and unashamedly female that it made his posturingly masculine self from before seem almost absurd in its now-nonexistent counterpoint.

Gianna had managed to convince Heather to head back home soon afterwards, but the thoughts that she'd been left alone with continued to unsettle her mood. Whatever the weight of her current experiences might have revealed about the Giancarlo side of her, whatever things it might have shown that her time as Gianna made harder to explain or defend, Giancarlo was still a key part of her. It was Giancarlo's knowledge, after all, that had kept her safe and let her act smartly to avoid some of the worst consequences of her situation, and his strength and warped perspective, especially about rape, that had saved her from the worst emotional repercussions from what she hadn't been able to escape. Heck, it was the raw, undeniable determination and guile that lay at the heart of Giancarlo's psyche that was becoming the one key thing in maintaining the resolve to get his male form back. Seeing how the boneheap could make something like that become lost completely, seeing how experience and knowledge could be stripped away to leave only some reflected female parody of her former self... no, that was something she couldn't accept, from any perspective.

That's what she told herself, at least. Problem was, though, the more she thought about it, the more certain other aspects of what had happened kept springing to mind. Say what you wanted about the strangeness of Hugh fully becoming Heather, but in a way it really was a fresh start. Heather had actually been freed from all of the horrid things that Hugh had done, to the point of having no recollection of them whatsoever. In addition, none of Hugh's victims remembered the predations, either - Amanda, despite everything Hugh had done, was fast friends with Heather, and apparently thought she always had been. Gianna, in fact, seemed to be the one person left with knowledge of Hugh's all-but-evaporated past existence, and since even Heather had no memory of them, they were little more than stories that were impossible to confirm. Hugh had, in fact, entirely gotten away with all of his bad acts, the only consequence being the total conversion of his persona. Hugh, as a physical and legal entity, was entirely off the hook, and so far as Gianna knew, Heather's record was otherwise entirely clean.

The conclusion, then, was obvious: if she took a similar sort of deal, if she stepped into the persona of Gianna entirely and let Giancarlo slip away, all of those bad acts would disappear along with him. She would never be forced to face any consequences for the widespread rape and suffering that Giancarlo had inflicted for years and years. It really would be a fresh start - even better than that, one surrounded by friends and maybe even an actual lover.

Although... would it, entirely? All she had to do was examine Velasco's recollections to know that even in the guise of her manufactured female history, the feminine version of herself had nevertheless been involved in plenty of dark things, at least in high school. And beyond that, well... what else might the female version of herself have done? There was really only one way to find out, though, and only one person who she'd been close enough with throughout that they might have known... which was why, the day after Heather's complete transformation, she'd found herself sitting in a booth across from Jonah in a secluded section of a nondescript bar and grill, initiating something of an awkward conversation.

"Er... I'm not entirely sure what you're trying to get at," Jonah had replied when Gianna tried, tangentially, to bring it up. "I mean, you never... did anything to anyone, at least not to my knowledge. Sure, we went out a fair amount, and sure you kinda acted as my wingman, getting women warmed up to you before introducing them to me, and some of those women... well, you know how things went, considering you were in close enough proximity for some of them. But I mean... what are you asking? That I thought you put something in their drinks? I know we've both been pretty fucked up about what happened between us, but at the same time... I know you. I know you're not the kind of person who'd do stuff like that, and if some notion of awkwardness or trauma is trying to twist you into remembering things that didn't happen... you've got to let go of that. I'm trying as hard as I can to let go of the stuff that I actually did, voluntarily or not, and I still can't do it a lot of the time, but... that's not the sort of burden you deserve at all, and there's no reason to let your mind go there."

Well, okay, having been Giancarlo, she probably did have ample reason to go there... but Jonah did make a reasonable point. More importantly, though, it did seem to confirm something useful: however messed up the female version had been in high school, beyond that she'd apparently been somewhat better behaved than Giancarlo had been. Of course, considering her circumstances and expected sexual role, that had probably been far easier - no crime in being on the receiving end of rape, after all.

What that fact did do, however, was add even more fuel to the argument that the not-exactly-angel that occasionally possessed May continued to put forward: that fully becoming Gianna would give her a clean break and a chance to start anew, without the darkness of Giancarlo.

On the other hand, though, giving up the essence of who she really was... not exactly an inconsequential price to pay for that new start. And even if she considered it a clean break, it was still a new start as a woman, with all that entailed, and the reality of never being able to take on the male form that was rightfully hers - and even worse, if Heather was any indication, it would be a form that she would become completely used to, and even the knowledge of being a man again would become absurd.

And so it was that only a couple of weeks into her plan, with many to go, that the pivotal debate for the very essence of Giancarlo coalesced: whether to return to a position of power and dominance, or relinquish it permanently to escape the lingering consequences of Giancarlo's previous crimes. It was a debate that increasingly played out as she continued her attempts to stick with her plan, and while it didn't manage to derail things entirely, the two things managed to collide more often than she would have liked.

Part of the problem, admittedly, was that the plan only had the barest minimum of fallbacks. For it to work well, she needed two things: a reliable source of non-obnoxious males while in heat, and a similar source for the other catch-up encounters she'd need during the week. In terms of heat, she mainly had the duo she'd been seeing for that purpose, but they didn't have the motivation or availability to be down for it every single week. And as backup, she had... well, pretty much just Alan, the maybe-tolerable cop. A backup that she unfortunately had to put to the test fairly quickly, as Eric and Erhan were heading off to a business conference about the same time her next heat was scheduled to roll around.

Being with Alan was pretty much about as she expected. On the plus side, he was eager, but in a way that was more cute than aggressive. He also, unlike most others, had absolutely no problem with her being on top, and letting her dictate exactly how everything would happen. That being said, though, Gianna still couldn't quite will herself to intentionally get the knot in on her own, and Alan's lack of aggressiveness in bed meant that he couldn't pull off the same sort of forceful finish the heat-club malamute had been capable of. Which meant, in turn, that she eventually had to flip him over, and end up on her back with him on top, feeling him heavily against her hips as he forced the knot in the rest of the way.

On the other hand, at least his knot was just about ideally sized for maximum relief without overwhelming pressure, and his overall length was such that only the narrowest part of the tip notched in her cervix when he was knotted, instead of feeling like his entire cockhead was trying to ram its way into her womb. In other words, it more than did the job, and coupled with the way he ground incessantly and unceasingly within her nearly the entire time they were tied... so far as female orgasms went, at least, the ones his snug, bulging knot managed to send trembling through her heated insides were considerably beyond the level of adequate.

On balance, then, he was actually fairly close to ideal, and if it hadn't been for one crucial problem, he really might have been the best backup she had on hand. The fact of the matter was, though, she still had yet to find a non-possessed guy who could handle the amount of back-to-back sex that was really needed to combat heat, and that was a sort of stamina that Alan decidedly lacked. While Eric and Erhan could manage an adequate half-dozen between them, Alan had barely pushed through two before his exhaustion got the better of him. He'd actually fallen asleep on top of her while they were still knotted, and she'd had to roll them both over onto their sides to keep his weight off of her until she could manage to dislodge him. It had actually taken a couple of hours for him to wake back up, and while he'd been embarrassed and perhaps excessively apologetic over what had happened, it was clear enough that by himself he'd be woefully insufficient to handle her heat. What could she do, though? Ask him to bring some of his cop buddies around? Maybe he was still a pliable rookie, but an actual police officer who was well-accustomed to using power and aggression as tools of the trade... no, that probably wouldn't be helpful at all.

Still, she'd leaned on him as much as she could, and with some additional ministrations from May, she managed to get through another heat basically intact, if lacking in points. May had also promised she'd look for some alternate couples to supplement when Eric and Erhan weren't available, at least. Alan, though, would probably have to be relegated to more casual sorts of encounters, and it still meant that people she could trust to have sex with her were few and far between.

Sticking to the plan also meant being far more restrictive with her life than she really preferred - work, home, necessary shopping, a little socializing, and not a whole lot else. Which made sense - given the curse, if she frequented any of the usual social gathering spots, she'd end up on the receiving end of excessive male attention. Best case, she came back frustrated by overly probing hands; worse case, sex would end up happening one way or another, and if it went too bad, or even too good, the effects on her psyche, and her opinion on that crucial decision, would be unpredictable. So, she had to avoid most of it, and being that constrained managed to be one more thing setting her on edge.

As time went on, though, she realized that it wasn't just being constrained that was getting to her. There was something crucial missing in her life, and it took her a while to figure out what it was, but when she did, it actually seemed more than obvious.

She missed... well, the hunt, basically. Sure, for Giancarlo, a significant part of it had been about the rape itself, about the dominance and force and making people react and behave in ways that only he ultimately controlled. Half of it though, had been the thrill that came long before he even got his hands directly on his target. It was the entire process: finding someone that caught his eye, looking into them, stalking them, watching from the shadows as he discerned their vulnerabilities and weaknesses, waiting for them to let their guard down and give him the perfect moment to strike.

Considering her current form, the act of rape itself was mostly out of the question, the one prior incident with Hugh notwithstanding. There weren't exactly a lot of guys around she could get away with dominating, and those she could were probably so into being submissive in the first place that it just wouldn't feel that rewarding. About the only men she could reliably otherwise dominate wouldn't actually be of age, and... no, there was no way she was going to go there.

And as for stalking, even if she never actually went through with the rest of it... that was the kind of thing her current form was not at all built for, especially considering the clothing restrictions she still hadn't really been able to get around. As Giancarlo, as just another anonymous if reasonably-built guy, he'd been able to blend into the crowd, hide in the shadows, discourage any outside interest and easily shrug off the occasional impassive glances that came his way. As Gianna, though, it was nearly impossible not to be noticed anywhere people were present, and with men that likelihood increased tenfold. Even if some of the men were polite enough to keep their hands to themselves, every one of them who still had a working penis definitely looked. Some were more obvious about their ogling that others, but everywhere she went, someone's eyes were always on her. Add to that the fact that men constantly approached her, even just walking down the street, and the notion of being invisible was completely gone. Which meant no hunt, no dominance, nothing to remind herself of the power and skill that Giancarlo possessed.

As that need grew, so did her motivation, but even as she felt herself getting closer to making that final push to the challenge, she managed to get noticed in the worst possible way: the boneheap had apparently figured out just how carefully she was trying to control access to herself, and wasn't particularly pleased about it. And so, predictably, one night while she was pulling her annoyingly girly panties back on after a shower, it had popped back into visibility right in front of her.

She'd jumped, of course, furious at the sudden interruption and aggravated by the way her sudden motion had made her unrestrained boobs bounce crazily on her chest, but she hadn't been able to even get much of a snarl in edgewise before the boneheap was intoning again in its broken, clattering cadence.

"routine too predictable, boring. denying opportunities for game to play properly. if chalLenge so desired, go and play game, be entertaining."

"What, are you serious? You come barging in here at me while I'm half-naked, to call me out for not being fun enough?"

"taking offense from being obServed in half-naked state. female perspective acCepted and internalized. perhaps some intrigue, then."

"Oh, shut the fuck up! And seriously, where in the rules of this stupid game does it say I have to entertain you, anyway? I'm still in this form, not that I can help it, and dealing with what it entails every single day. I still go into work, and deal with the requisite amount of groping and harassment from awful guys. And every single week, I still go into heat, and end up spending hours getting fucked in stupidly girly ways. What, somehow that's not enough for you? Or are you saying that you're such a bastard that you're not even going to let me try and outplay you at this game?"

"method of challenge irrelevant. game not designed to provide challenge or competition. game simply set of reQuired rules, attachment of specific duration to entertainment. indefinite duration deSired, but only voluntary side agreement can make posSible. offer still on table. agree, accept female form, some tribulations mitigated. continue playing game, hiding from interesting enCounters, and addendum to rules in order."

"Yeah, no. I'm not agreeing to that, especially when you propose it after barging in here to harass me! And if you've really got that much of a problem with me playing the game the way I want to play it, then... do your worst, huh? I've suffered through all manner of fucking bullshit that you've put me through, and guess what, I'm still here! I'm still fighting through all of this nonsense, and I will fucking challenge you somehow, no matter what roadblocks you put in my way. I mean, how much further can you twist the rules anyway before they're ridiculous even to you?" Of course, she immediately regretted the implication put forward by her sudden burst of aggravated rage, but there was no way she was going to show weakness by backpedalling now. In any case, the boneheap seemed largely unfazed either way, its speech as eerily emotionless as ever.

"large modification not required. only small tweak necessary. new rule is this: engage in socialiZation as normal. or, stick to apparent plan. however, if stay here, others will come here instead. and perhaps door sometimes sponTaneously unlocks..."

"Rrrgh... seriously? So what, you're basically saying that you're gonna try and get me fucked more, at random, no matter what I do?"

"purpose of game enterTainment. entertainment will happen. choice as to method is offered. fasciNating to see which choice is made."

With that, it waved its arm around in a lazy curlicue pattern, apparently doing something to set its new, stupid rule in place, before blinking out abruptly - leaving Gianna seething, but mercifully alone. She got dressed, grumbling about the new rule, even as her mind managed to be furious with herself. As the horrid thing had pointed out, even more feminine attitudes and behaviors were creeping in simply by virtue of having to live in that form day after day after day, and she'd have to be doubly vigilant if she was to keep that core of masculinity within her.

Which meant that, regardless of new rules or consequences, her plan had to succeed despite them. Not that she was particularly eager to have the one sort of safe place she had violated, but then again, Velasco had already seen to that, not to mention all that nonsense with Heather... and if she did have to deal with things there, at least they were familiar surroundings, where she would have a certain sense of advantage. If the boneheap really wanted to throw more stuff at her... well, whoever it threw would get to see just how determined Gianna could be when her back was against the wall.

Sure enough, she stuck to her plan - and a couple of days later, as she was watching something banal on television and contemplating heading off towards bed, there was a sudden, frantic knocking on her front door.

She went over to open it, grumbling, and resolving to sock the face of any guy who might be eagerly standing behind it. What she hadn't quite expected, though, was to find May standing there, and her very presence was enough to leave Gianna momentarily taken aback.

Beyond that, though, it was the look on her face that made Gianna do a double-take. After all, they'd spoken on the phone the night before, and May had seemed completely normal. She'd tried to cajole Gianna into going out with her to something, and Gianna had politely declined, but she hadn't seemed all that disappointed. Now, though, she was here, unannounced, and her face conveyed a strange sense of desperation that looked almost like... heat?

No, it couldn't be - even though it was harder to pick up as a woman, if May had been in heat, there would have been an unmistakable scent around her, and Gianna wasn't even scenting a hint of it. And yet, that undeniable look of need on her face was so remarkably similar to the many women in heat that Giancarlo, and Gianna, had come into contact with.

"Can... can I come in?" May asked, her voice quavering, seeming strangely unsteady on her feet.

"Um, sure, I guess, but-"

"Thank you so much!" May said, half-moving, half-falling towards her, and a moment later she was in Gianna's arms, hugging her tightly while practically sobbing against her shoulder in relief. "I am so, so happy you're here..."

"Okay, but... what's wrong?" Gianna replied, reaching around her to nudge the door closed, and making sure to lock it, for whatever good that might do - the last thing she wanted was anyone else showing up while she tried to sort out what was going on with May.

"Wrong? No, nothing's wrong, I just... I don't know why, but I... really, really need you right now..."

"Need me? For what?"

"I, I need... to be with you, to touch you, to feel you, to know that you're feeling me... Ever since I woke up this morning, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and the more I did, the more I wanted you to be there, and you weren't, and it just kept building and building, and... that's why I'm here. I know it's impulsive, and crazy, but... I just couldn't resist, you know? I, I know you know this, but... I love you. I love the connection I have with you. And I just needed to feel that love, that closeness, and to make sure that you know and feel the love that I have for you..."

"Um, okay, but... seriously, what's this about? I mean, I know we've been together a lot, and it's no secret that we're in some sort of relationship or other by now, and I know we've gotten pretty close..." Surprisingly close, for that matter, given Gianna's underlying personality, but not much to be done about that. "All this love stuff, though? Really, did something happen that I don't know about?"

"No, nothing happened, I... really need you right now, that's all."

"Right, well... I'm here, you're here, so we're good on that, right? So if you need to talk, about anything at all..."

May pulled back for a moment, enough that Gianna could see the unexpectedly irked expression that for a moment pulled her face away from its baseline desperation. "Talk? No, this... isn't about talking. I could have called you on the phone for that. What I need, is to... be with you, in the way that we're supposed to be together. Not bleeding off heat, with some artificial thing coming between us. I need to show you how much I love you, I need to show you what that means... what it means for two women to be close, in a way that men will never know..."

"You know, if you wanted a booty call, all you had to do was- eep!"

That, of course, was the sound of troublingly girly surprise that Gianna couldn't quite hold back, as May, without any prompting or warning, abruptly slid her hand down the front of Gianna's leggings and caressed the leading edge of her spade through her panties.

It was the kind of thing that really should have pissed her off, and if it had been a guy who'd done it, she probably would have seriously considered kneeing the bastard in the balls before her body started reacting too intensely to the touch.

This time, though, it wasn't some guy looming over her imposingly, but May looking up at her with an expression of deliciously feminine arousal and desire. It was the kind of look that would have been met with an immediate response from Giancarlo, and while for Gianna it wasn't quite the same, it did mean that she couldn't think of anything about it to protest - and instead of trying to fight it, she let May's fingers work against her, even letting her hips rock down the way they suddenly wanted, to get her spade grinding back against May's rapidly compelling touch.

May was probably right - all the times she could recall them being intimate, heat had been somehow involved in the equation. The only time they'd done... actual lesbian stuff, she guessed, was that very first time, and the only memories she had of that were a handful of barely-there, blackout-drunk impressions of largely vague sensations. Maybe that was why the feel of her intimate touch felt so absolutely novel.

Of course, the only real experience of having her spade touched had come either from aggressive guys, whose interest was less about maximizing pleasure than it was about being quick and rough in the sort of way that brought about the most rapid lubrication. Beyond that, the only other real attention it received was her own unskilled, desperate pawing during heat... and the pounding of a hard, masculine knot against the shock-absorbing pads while she was being fucked. Not that the spade itself was supposed to be the focus of sexual sensation, considering the far more sensitive parts inside, but most of the so-called stimulation she'd subjected it to hadn't exactly been designed to exploit what sensitivity there was.

May, though... well, there was no question she knew what she was doing. Every press, every stroke of her fingers was perfectly balanced, exerting only enough pressure to intrigue without feeling aggressive or rough, building up a pattern of brushes across each of the pads in turn, then easing expertly back when the feeling built up enough to get Gianna's hips humping back down against her fingers.

Strangely, it didn't... feel sexy, exactly, at least not in the sense of direct stimulation that seemed like it could lead to orgasm. Evidently, as she'd anticipated, there wasn't anything in the spade itself sensitive in the right way that could make it happen.

And yet, compared to what usually happened, her response was rapidly different. Unlike the chest-tightening, hip-squirming burst of aggravation and discomfort that came with an aggressive male touch, and the accompanying flood of desperation wetness it inspired, this felt like... not quite the first vestiges of heat, before things actually became problematic. There was no tension, no itch, no frustration, just a deep, comforting sense of warmth that blossomed gently from between her hips and outward into her abdomen.

It was a feeling that only intensified when May nudged the crotch of her panties away from the surface of her spade and made contact with her fingers directly, a slow, snuggly sort of massage that left Gianna... strangely happy, not gushing or overwhelmed with weird, girly emotions, but enjoying the soft, intimate touch more and more with each passing moment, and quickly determined not to interfere with it continuing in any way.

Fuck... it was hard to admit, but as strange as it was to see May so forward, she knew she was thankful that it was May and not whatever random jerk the boneheap could potentially have sent her way. It still felt a little strange to be the one who was being desired, who was having something done to them, and even if it had been a guy with equally skilled hands, there was no way she'd be feeling the same way she was - just looking over, and seeing someone masculine looking back, knowing what they wanted and what would surely come next, would have led to her feeling anxious and weak and all too feminine. But seeing nothing but the face of a beautiful woman, aroused in that soft, enthrallingly feminine way, seemed to have the opposite effect. All she wanted to do was relax against May's body, and let her fingers guide Gianna to whatever pleasant place they might take her.

Gianna was so focused on the intriguing, subtly arousing feelings emanating from her spade that she hardly even noticed May guiding her across the room, and the first time she really noticed that May had coaxed her onto her back on top of the couch was when the sensation of her touch briefly stopped, and she looked past May's retreating face to see the beige, stucco pattern of the ceiling behind her.

As she noticed that, there was a gentle tug at her waist, and Gianna, without really thinking about it, braced her legs and nudged her hips up just enough to allow May to slide the leggings off of her in one smooth, continuous motion - the kind that could probably only be performed by someone long practiced in the art of getting such a finicky garment on and off. Her panties came next, eased off with the sort of coordination she honestly wasn't sure a horny guy was capable of, and when May's hands petted the fur on her thighs, pressing just enough to subtly nudge them apart, Gianna realized that she was missing the touch against her spade sufficiently that all she really felt like doing was letting out a little purr and letting May coax her into providing all the access she needed.

May's hands, though, didn't return, instead continuing to brush along the soft fur of her inner thighs, not quite enough to tickle, but enough to cause... something inside her to throb noticeably in anticipation. As she looked over to see what was happening, looking down past the mounds of her breasts and her loose shirt in disarray along her abdomen, she realized that May had pulled all the way back, and in fact her head was dipping down, lower and lower, enough that she could feel the fur on May's head just barely against her own - and a rapid puff of hot breath directly against the surface of her spade.

Honestly, Gianna didn't have any real idea of what oral sex looked like with a spade, despite May's earlier claims of Gianna's innate proficiency. Giancarlo hadn't exactly had much of a need for them - sexual teasing that actually made a woman feel empowered wasn't really part of his repertoire. She figured that it would involve... something, gentle kissing or a darting tongue, something subtle but compelling like she'd felt before.

What she wasn't quite expecting, however, was to see May's head duck down nearly all the way out of view, with just the top of her head and her ears clearly visible... and then feel the clear, unmistakable sensation of May clamping her muzzle down around Gianna's entire spade, complete with the feeling of May's incisors digging in, not enough to hurt but more than enough to notice, along the outside of her spade near where it erupted from the surrounding fur.

As surprising as it felt, though, it wasn't actually uncomfortable. In fact, it was kind of remarkable in a way. With May's entire mouth around it like that, instead of being penetrative as sex had been for far too long, for the first time in a while she was experiencing the feeling of having a part of her surrounded by feminine warmth. While it certainly felt far different than what Giancarlo would have been accustomed to, prone on the couch and yielding to May's ministrations, it was still the most male thing that Gianna had felt in far, far too long.

Of course, that feeling only managed to last for a few fleeting moments before it was joined by a far more familiar one - the feeling of something probing wetly against the inner edges of her spade. And yet, for all that, it was a touch that was immediately far more intriguing than aggravating. Admittedly, it was true that for the most part, the only thing she'd felt probing in that way before had been a guy's cock, and the only thing that was really associated with was the imminent inevitability of getting her pussy pounded.

That, however, came with a very particular feeling, one of something shoving in and forcing her to spread apart - something that seemed to be the last thing on May's mind. Instead, she felt the lapping of a tongue that seemed far more muscular than Gianna had anticipated, not so much nudging against the intersection of her spade as toying with each individual pad in turn, flicking over its surface in a tight, precise circular massage before letting the leading edge move around the sides in a flicking motion rapid enough that Gianna could almost feel her spade vibrating in response. It still wasn't the kind of thing to drive her wild, exactly, but it was both relaxing and intensely, deeply intimate, and it only took a couple minutes of May's relentless ministrations before Gianna realized that, while she still didn't quite understand how it worked, that feeling of strange, passionately feminine arousal was as great as it had ever been outside of heat.

That was apparently abundantly clear to May as well. When she released her jaws a moment later and poked her head up from between Gianna's legs, she was actually sputtering a little, and the fur along the bottom edge of her muzzle was sopping wet from something shiny and slick.

"Er... sorry?"

"Nothing to be sorry about - how could I do anything but love seeing you react so strongly to my affections? But that, you know, is just the very, very first part of all this. I have yet to show you the kind of bliss that only a woman could know, and only a woman could ever bring about..."

May pulled herself back up, and it was apparently her turn to strip - not that she'd been wearing a ton to begin with. Gianna hadn't really noticed what she'd been wearing before, since May had been all over her from pretty much the moment she burst in the door, and it wasn't anything that had stood out from the typical stuff women wore: a solid black crop top and a short, matching pleated skirt.

Compared to Gianna's leggings, it was almost surprising how quickly the skirt came off - May did something with a fastener on the side, and like that she was already kicking it to the side from around her ankles as she casually pulled her top off over her head.

For a striptease, it would have left a lot to be desired, but it was clear enough that further titillation wasn't May's intent. In fact, she didn't even bother stripping off her black bra along with her bikini panties before bounding back onto the couch into Gianna's arms.

There was a part of Gianna that grimaced at the position she regularly seemed to be in when anything sexy occurred: flat on her back with someone on top of her. And yet, it didn't feel the way she usually felt in that position at all. In part, it was probably because the dominant position wasn't being used in a forceful way - no one was trying to shove her thighs apart to get in between them, or using their weight to pin down her pelvis to make sure her spade couldn't even attempt to squirm away. Even when it was only with May, when Gianna was in heat, there was still that sense of May being really on top, pushing down against and inside her in the way that was necessary to satisfy it. This time, though, it didn't feel so much that May was pressing down on her - instead, it felt like May was just snuggling in along her body, her soft fur intermingling comfily with Gianna's own, muzzle nuzzling in against her neck as May practically purred at the shared contact.

A moment later, as the blur of quick, close sensations stabilized, she realized that she wasn't feeling May nearly as heavily at all as she would have expected, and certainly not where she'd anticipated. Even though her ministrations had left Gianna spread, and Gianna hadn't thought to change that, May hadn't settled in between her thighs in the way Gianna had anticipated. While May's chest was close in against her own, close enough that she could feel her breasts squishing down beneath her shirt where May's were pressing against them, the rest of her seemed instead to be straddling Gianna's right thigh, both legs rubbing against either side of Gianna's own, and what she was sure was May's bare crotch snugged in tight against it.

It seemed like an unusual position, but it was one that provided a certain easy access to Gianna's spade - like, for instance, the hand that was gently petting down along the lower part of her shirt before rubbing the fur on her belly as it meandered lower, until it was fondling the extra-soft fluff on her pelvis, just above where her spade was almost certainly swelled with arousal. Instead of jumping down to it, though, May's hand lingered, playing gently with her fur as May's hips rocked down subtly against her thigh, slowly but steadily.

"You ready?" May breathed, her muzzle hot and close against Gianna's cheek.

"Uhh..." Gianna, already half-lost in the sensation of May rubbing against her, couldn't quite find the words, or the nerve, to ask May to do anything else. May had been all over her from the moment she walked in the door, but... did Gianna really even want her to stop? If there was a part of her that did, that part obviously didn't seem to have access to her speech at the moment, and it was all too easy for May to interpret Gianna's response the way she wanted.

"Don't worry, Gi... I guarantee that this is the best thing a woman can possibly feel..."

Before Gianna could even try to respond, May's hand eased lower, and suddenly Gianna could feel the brush of her fingers along the upper pad of her spade, then down along the others. It was about as far from the male touch she'd experienced as possible - instead of roughly poking and prodding, her fingers glided just along the surface, ranging from barely, almost ticklishly perceptible to the same gentle pressure that had felt deeply intriguing before. At the end of each glide, though, she could feel May's finger brush up against the pad's inner edge, curling over and giving a slightly more powerful nudge - to which Gianna could feel her spade responding to by opening up, little by little, as renewed arousal flowed out to coat it and make May's touches even more smooth and ephemeral.

It was considerably different than the tongue exploration that May had managed before, subtler and slower, but if anything it seemed to stoke Gianna's arousal and readiness even more readily - to the point that, when May's finger tucked in between the pads and delved into the opening beyond, it didn't elicit a single squirm or gasp in the way that Gianna was used to when someone found their way inside.

Strangely, the first thing Gianna thought when May slid inside her was how much less... overwhelming it felt. Having dealt with guys forcing their way in more than once, she knew how intense it was to suddenly have something hitting, well, most everything inside simultaneously, rubbing and stretching, making everything feel tight and crazy, then thrusting like a jackhammer until she could barely even handle all of it.

Compared to that, feeling May's finger within her felt almost... normal. Well, certainly not normal, but instead of making her feel crazy, she found that it was far easier to just lie back and sense where May was within her, rather than feeling everything inside at maximum intensity.

In fact, without all of the constant overall stimulation, as May's finger probed along her inner walls, Gianna could actually make out different sensations, and really tell that there wasn't just this uniform "inside" with one particular hot spot, but areas that were just as differentiated as they were on a guy's cock - some that felt like regular, if particularly soft and yielding skin contact, and others that were more sensitive, but in different ways that Gianna hadn't really been able to make out before amidst the overwhelming sensation. It was something she doubted that most guys knew anything about, and as Giancarlo she certainly hadn't, but May seemed to be more than well aware of it: sliding her finger with an intense, practiced focus, the entirety of her close-pressed body seeming to sense even the slightest reaction that Gianna made to her touch, circling back around to brush back up against interesting points just to confirm and intensify Gianna's response.

The exploration, to Gianna, both felt troublingly alien and utterly fascinating. As Giancarlo, he hadn't cared that much about the way different parts of his cock had felt, since shoving it into a panicked, squirming, gripping spade always seemed to do the trick, but he'd known enough of the differences to make jacking off feel good enough when prey had dried up and he'd occasionally had to resort to it. Still, all that had meant was figuring out which parts made him want to come the most when touched, and which ones didn't. Very few, if any, of them had made him want to react in the ways that Gianna could feel herself doing in response to May's expert probing.

She knew, of course, that there was a point inside her that was basically an internal clit; the part that stoked her arousal and seemed often to bring her inevitably to orgasm, whether she desired it or not. Strangely enough, though, for the moment May seemed to be avoiding it entirely, focusing pressure only on what seemed like its periphery, just enough to be teasingly intriguing without fully spiking her arousal.

Instead, May played with different parts, her finger circling and probing and zeroing in until she found other areas of maximum intensity. A few of those points were... almost ticklish, somehow, but in a way that felt better than actually being tickled, and enough that she could feel her hips squirm and roll in response, her body seeming like she simultaneously wanted to back off the pressure even while longing for it to increase. Other parts, which May seemed to know how to nudge just right, produced almost a little shock: nothing like an orgasm, but enough to make her hips buck sharply and send a shiver up her spine. Another one, slightly further in, May gave harder, lingering pressure to... which, confusingly, made Gianna feel like she suddenly had to pee, but nothing of the sort happened, just... a strange increase in pressure and tension that only slowly dissipated when May's finger relented, and surged back with renewed intensity every time it returned.

Only once she'd probed all those other different things, and massaged them to their maximum intensity, did May's finger slide over to the most sensitive part it had previously been dancing around. Instead of just feeling... intense, though, the way it did when a cock was stroking around it, the way that May was nudging in, slow and steady but ever closer, the sensation felt far more fascinating, even as it revealed even more that Gianna had never known. Before, it had felt like one single place inside her, but as May started playing against it, she realized that it was made up of three separate points, in tight against each other in a way that almost made Gianna wonder if it was almost arranged like a miniature spade.

When May brushed up against them, though, not only could Gianna feel May's gentle stroking magnified a thousandfold, she could feel the impossibly soft, intensely hot flesh of the separate points rubbing against each other, their interlocking touch intensifying the sensation even further. With everything else primed, she could feel her arousal surge, but in a way she'd never felt before: instead of the slamming, building intensity of sex that eventually spasmed inside her and sent her over the edge, she instead felt the arousal almost blossom over within her, surging along her inner walls like a cresting wave, building tension gently as they rippled with anticipation.

That only served to build the other sensations that still lingered from before, tickling, squirming and jolting within her in just the right ways. It was impossible to focus on anything other than what was happening inside her, and she could barely hear her own gasping, panting moans - until May's finger came to rest directly atop all three spots together, and even that faded as every source of tension throughout her body seemed to burst with a perfect, ecstatic synchronicity.

The initial rush of euphoria, rather than slamming through her pelvis and shocking out through the rest of her like she'd become accustomed to, seemed to flow throughout her body, leaving her buzzing with energy and warmth. In fact, a certain part of it felt incongruously familiar: a sudden surge of inevitability between her legs, and for the briefest of moments, she actually swore that something was spurting, cumming the way Giancarlo had long been used to. Except, even that felt strange, like it was coming from the wrong place, and its familiarity only brought into focus how everything was reversed - it was supposed to be accompanied by something warm and tight and wet wrapped around Giancarlo's cock, but instead she could still feel something within her as her inner walls began to flex and tremble.

To her consternation, though, as the surge began to ebb, her orgasm actually managed to feel even more wrong. Whatever it was inside her that flexed and throbbed with each contraction, instead of bearing down the way she was used to, the first few times they clenched it felt almost like they'd... overshot, somehow, that without something to clamp down onto they were flailing inadequately at empty air, a pale echo of the way it normally felt. As the throbbing rolled in deeper, though, while it still felt strangely off, the relaxing waves that they seemed to spawn flooded through her limbs just as relentlessly.

In the midst of such pleasure, it was strange for the core part of it to feel it so muted, and what it seemed to somehow indicate. Gianna was with a woman, the way it was supposed to be, or at least as close as she could get at the moment, and yet... could she only cum completely now with a cock, or something exactly like it, burrowed deep and tight inside her?

Still, the reaction was powerful enough that all Gianna could do was sink back down against the couch, her extremities still trembling from the lingering aftereffects of May's ministrations. She felt relaxed to the point of near-paralysis, weak as a puppy and completely at May's mercy.

And yet, somehow she didn't seem to mind - even with May's earlier aggression, Gianna couldn't help but feel safe with her. Even then, she probably should have felt something other than pleasure at the way that May, ever gentle, had nevertheless managed to so completely dominate her senses, but on the contrary, she couldn't help but feel a thrill from merely contemplating what May might yet have in store.

Except... close as she was, it was impossible not to sense that something wasn't quite right with her. Glancing down, Gianna could see her face looking up at her, close enough to kiss, but the glint in her eye was definitely wrong. Not her normal sense of lust, although May's hips continued to roll in a slow, steady, unrelenting rhythm as she ground her spade against Gianna's thigh. Not the way she looked when she was possessed, either, but some strange sense of desire-tinged malevolence. The arousal on her face was clear enough, as was a sort of gratitude, but her grin bore a little too much fang as she spoke.

"Now, that's what I'm looking for. That's what I've been waiting to see for so long. That's the way you're supposed to look when you're with me, the way a woman's supposed to look when they've experienced the height of pleasure only another woman can give them. This is how it was supposed to be all along... just us, close like that first time, without some... fake male appendage intruding between us. It really pissed me off, you know? Being together, with you, watching you cum, wishing it was me that was really making you look that way, but knowing it was some stupid masculine intrusion bulging your spade that was really giving you what you wanted. Hating that the thing had to be inside me, too, hating how it made me... impure, like one of them, one of those pricks using a shaft to impale you in all the wrong ways, in all the ways two women should never have to be together. You don't know how much I longed for this, to get you out from around that knot, to make you feel like a true fucking woman is supposed to. To bring out the true pleasure that must have been welling up inside you. And now that you're finally there, now that you're here in my arms, now that I, I..."

She squirmed against Gianna, muscles tensing as her face seemed to be fighting between the expressions it wanted to show. The one that manifested, though, only added to the troubling look in her eyes, and Gianna felt May's hands shift to bear down against her own arms, with a strength she hadn't seemed to have before.

"Yes, that's right. Here in my arms. Mine. In thrall to me, not those horrid, stupid guys. At my mercy, driven and compelled by pleasure that I and I alone can provide. All mine, a canvas on which to paint, an instrument of sensation to be played to the very heights of possible pleasure. No, from the look on your face I can tell: from now on, your heart, your soul, every inch of your body is mine to command, to, pleasure, to, t-t-t-"

May tensed further, drawing in close and bearing her sex down as her legs clamped on Gianna's thigh almost impossibly tightly, spasming for a moment before freezing completely in place, her fangs fully bared and looking like she was about to snarl up at Gianna's face. Instead, though, her eyes somehow managed to become even wider than they already were, before they suddenly flashed with an intense, uniform light.

Instead of the usual intercession that came with her normal possession, though, May's expression rapidly transformed into one of fury, and even as she relaxed and levered herself up from her previous embrace, her head was already snapping around in an uncharacteristically fierce motion to stare at a seemingly empty patch of wall next to the front door.

"Out! Get your tendrils out of her, you savage thing! She is not yours to manipulate!"

Far less surprisingly, the boneheap blinked into view in the precise spot where May was looking, half-melded into the shadows.

"simply playing game. made rule, enForced it with one possible actor. as entity not included in game, inapPropriate to interfere."

"Is that so?" May replied, the almost-melodic tone of her possessed voice undercut by a harsh, strained resonance. "You really think this... torture you inflict on people is just a game?"

"actual game in effect. rules and everything. know peNalties for interfering."

"Right... penalties. The one's you're so nervous about, hmm? And yet... May isn't party to your game, and neither are any of the other people you've manipulated around Gianna to get what you wanted. Not to mention, May is a party to my influence, an influence that you intentionally subverted. So who's interfering now?"

"not able to manifest outside of possession, so not entity coVered by rules. not interference to disregard possession."

"In your opinion, perhaps," the thing possessing May continued, her tone now more grating than chiming and almost palpably ice-cold. "But I'm still more than capable of bringing this incident to a certain someone's attention, who probably wouldn't agree so much with your interpretation of who you can and can't mess with."

The boneheap paused for a second. It certainly didn't seem frightened, not that it ever really did, but it was clear the wheels were turning in whatever passed for its mind.

"state desired outcome."

"Simple. I can't mess with whatever you've got going on here, not directly, but... you remove whatever you've done to May, and you never, ever, even think of touching her again."

"done." The boneheap extended its arm and waved it briefly, and something faint shimmered around May's body before fading away. "however, no further direct interFerence tolerated."

"You can't stop me from talking to her."

"keep avatar. talk as desired. words unliKely to affect game. anyway, rule enforced, purPose of actor served. no current need for further intervention."

The boneheap shifted in place, its cowl tilting up to reveal a glimpse of its glowing red glare, one that seemed aimed directly at Gianna.

"continue to hide, ignore rule, next visit less... equal."

And with that, the boneheap blinked away, and the intense white glow in May's eyes faded. May slumped down on top of Gianna for a moment before recovering, blinking her eyes.

"Wha... where... what kind of weird dream was that? I was just taking a nap, and then..."

She suddenly seemed to notice Gianna's presence against her, glancing down in surprise. "Gianna? But I... how did I... how did I even get here? And I..."

She trailed off, sniffing for a second before bringing her still-damp hand up to her nose. "Wait, we were... how do I not even remember that? We finally, really get down to it, and all I can remember is some blur of a dream, and some vague sense of having been super-horny for some reason. I... I don't get it..."

Probably not a good idea for May to think too hard about it, lest in her effort she somehow managed to dislodge some stray memory of what had just transpired. "Well, I'm not expert, but you know know how sometimes when you're in heat... well, you're in heat, but maybe a couple days before or after, things can get a little weird, right? Sometimes you just get... impulsive, and..." Of course, Gianna didn't have any idea if that were true given her cycle, but she could remember hearing some rumor to that effect, so hopefully it would be enough for May to bite on it.

"Well, maybe... I didn't think I was due for another heat for a while, but sometimes it gets a little out of whack and creeps up on you. Still, though, I can't remember anything quite like this. I'm definitely not drunk, but..." she paused, looking chagrined. "If I was feeling like that, though... oh, no, I must have been absolutely all over you! Please tell me I didn't do anything too embarrassing..."

"No, it was... It turns out I was actually in the mood, so... from the moment you started showing off your expertise, I didn't have any reason to discourage it..."

"Still, I have to apologize. You having to deal with me like... like that, not even realizing what I was doing... I am so very, deeply sorry. Even if you were in the mood, having to take me on in some out-of-control way, forcing anything like that upon you... that's a huge transgression on my part, especially knowing everything you've been through. Knowing the... fucked-up relationship you have with guys getting on your case all the time, the notion that I could have been too aggressive in the same way... it's appalling. I don't... I don't even deserve to be with you, like this..."

Well, that certainly wasn't going to help matters, and about the last thing Gianna wanted, after going through yet another fucked-up boneheap episode, was to engage in another round of discordant feminine drama. Considering the situation, silencing May with more sex was probably out of the question, but then again, there had to be some obvious way to resolve it...

Gianna simply wrapped her arms around May, pulling her close again, in a way that encouraged May's head to nestle in against her cleavage - might as well do something useful with the aggravating things, after all.

"No, I don't think we should make it like that at all, really..."

"I, I don't understand-" May's voice was slightly muffled from her position, which gave Gianna a brief, perverse sense of enjoyment. Of course, Giancarlo would have used a far more... masculine method of keeping a woman quiet, but even that slightest hint of dominance made Gianna feel more comfortable over what had happened. Comfortable enough, in fact, that her attempt at reassurance turned out to be a little more... open than she'd initially planned.

"You don't deserve to be with me? Come on! Sure, I've told you a little, but I haven't told you anywhere close to all the shit I've done over the years. The people I've hurt, the lives I've fucked up simply by making myself a part of them... you don't even know." And really, she didn't, but hopefully May would understand it in the usual way - that she'd toyed with people's feelings, had bad breakups and wrecked relationships, rather that the far more palpable hurt Giancarlo had inflicted. "If someone were to look at it objectively, I probably don't deserve to be with the worst person on the face of the planet. You're so high above my station that I don't think I could have even imagined our relationship if it weren't for the fact that I'm actually here, with you, right now. Whatever happened between us so far, you could do a thousand times worse and I'd still probably be in your debt. You don't deserve me? No... you deserve far better than me. But if you're willing to be here with me, to help me though the fucked-up nightmare of my life... then I will fucking accept every single thing you can dish out and more. And if you want to come over crazed with horniness and hump my brains out, well... who in their right minds would turn that down, right? Nah, no matter how fucked up things get, my door's always open to you. Got it?"

"I... yeah," May replied, relaxing into her embrace. "Man, whatever you've been through, it's done a real number on you, you know that? Trust me, I've probably fucked up just as much as you have over the years, and that's without being driven crazy by heat every single week. Heh... maybe you're right, though. Maybe we really do deserve to just be... fucked up, together..."

"Eh, I can get behind that. Speaking of... somehow, I think this evening could go a whole lot better if we were both rip-roaring drunk. What do you think?"

"To forget this crazy mess? Well... what do you have on hand?"

"What do I have on hand? Plenty. The real question is... how hard can you handle?"

The answer to that question, apparently, was eighty-proof bourbon, and after matching a few quick shots apiece, the rest of the night melted into a comfortable blur interspersed with shedding the remaining remnants of clothing, plenty of close snuggling, and warm, wet flesh hugging Gianna's fingers as it squeezed and spasmed around them. That, and the sound of May's desperate, panting moans next to her ear, put a perfect cap on the evening before Gianna fell into the swirling, murky sleep that usually accompanied her alcoholic overindulgence. True, May still looked a little chagrined waking up next to her, and was especially hasty in getting dressed and making an abbreviated walk-of-shame exit, but at least the situation, and their relationship, seemed reasonably salvaged.

That being said, though, some of the things that May had awakened within her during their frenzied session were not as easy to acknowledge and resolve. Even with everything that she'd been through, and what she'd had to endure because of it, that core female part of her, the spade and everything beyond, had still seemed like this alien thing - a part of her, true enough, but confusing and difficult to really understand what was going on with it. Sex certainly hadn't changed that sense of it - with something thick moving inside, stimulating everything at once, it led to an experience that seemed overwhelming, bizarre, and completely out of her control or direction. It was just things happening to her, and sensations she couldn't help but react to, an unknown part of her doing unknown things on its own.

But with May, it hadn't been like that at all. No confused groping, or thudding penetration, no overwhelmed sensations all blending together. May had explored every part of her down there, bit by bit, and now she couldn't help but know what each thing felt like. Her pussy wasn't this mysterious internal thing that was just... there, but something coherent, something known, with different spots that had different sensitivities and provoked different reactions. It wasn't just this thing that the boneheap had cruelly tucked up inside her any more. Now that she knew it in such a clear way, now that she could associate it with everything she'd felt, it was all but impossible to keep that alien distance from if that had provided a strange, if ironic, sort of comfort. It wasn't just a mark of annoying femininity any more, not just some violable and much-abused point of weakness. It was actually, truly a part of her now, a part of her that she now knew as intimately as Giancarlo had known the surface of his own cock - and that was enough to make that sense of her, as a woman, sink in all that much more indelibly.

She knew she had to keep striving for that goal of returning to the status of Giancarlo, but as much as she knew how important the fight was, the revelation that May had wrought upon her made focusing on it that much more difficult. That knowledge couldn't be undone, and as a result, the points she still had to achieve in the boneheap's game couldn't simply be endured in the way that she'd planned.

She found that out the hard way a few days later, when Amanda had invited her out to go dance at a local club - and, heeding the boneheap's ominous threat from before, she'd reluctantly agreed to go along. Thankfully, Heather and her accompanying, overcompensatingly slutty behavior had not been in attendance, but it had still been a chaotic scene full of strobe lights and gyrating bodies. Gianna had gotten buzzed enough for it to be tolerable - but then she'd managed to become separated from Amanda, stumbled into a dark alcove and into some guy's arms. Sure enough, in a matter of seconds, she was nudged up against a wall, clumsily trying to nudge her shoved-up tube skirt back down while a hand tugged the crotch of her panties to the side - and then just as quickly stunned by a sudden flood of emergency arousal as the unmistakable tip of an aggressive cock pressed up against the bared pads of her spade. Drunken, stupid fumbling, probably right on the verge of rape, until the tip had skittered across one of the interesting points on her spade that May had introduced - at which point, she'd pretty much just said "fuck it, I need the points anyway," stopped messing with her skirt, and braced herself against the wall for the frantic, artless, half-drunk humping her pussy and posterior would soon have to endure.

Except... she didn't just endure it, didn't just sit there and take it while holding onto a few shreds of stoic dignity the way she'd planned. It wasn't nearly as simple as before, just giving in to some sense of overwhelming sensation. Instead, she realized she could actually feel what the guy was doing inside her as he slid in: how he was angled, what spots he was hitting and what ones he wasn't, how some of them wanted to feel him tight against them from the first thrust but didn't want as much later on, while others warmed up to him with each subsequent stroke.

And, knowing that, she didn't just sit still and take it - instead, she could feel herself reacting to it, shifting her own position against him, tensing and rolling her own hips in such a way that she forced him to hit her spots in a sequence that was far better than his own unskilled thrusting. In fact, it didn't take all that long before she was far more into it than she'd planned, moaning not just because some sensation was forcing her to but because she wanted to, rocking back at him just as vigorously as he thrust into her. And when his rhythm paused, when he threatened to blow his load before she'd finished, she ground back against him mercilessly, forcing the head of his shaft in hard against the spots where she wanted to feel it the most, riding it willingly to a screaming climax that spasmed through her entire torso in advance of his first desperate spurt from within the locked-down, pulsating grip of a pussy that was now fully, disturbingly hers.

While it had probably been both the most mutual and mercifully anonymous encounter with a guy that she'd had since becoming Gianna, as she'd stumbled back out to the dance floor with her hips trembling and some random guy's seed seeping along the inner surfaces of her spade, somehow she felt even guiltier than she usually did. Probably because, for something that was supposed to be just a means to an end, she'd enjoyed it far more than she was supposed to - and in all the wrong ways. The whole point of her plan was to endure each encounter, and endure it only as a means to an end: to get through with enough of her masculinity intact to take on the boneheap and regain the mantle of Giancarlo. And yet, more and more, she was becoming a woman in every way, and an encounter like that, fully engaging in sex in the most feminine way, only served to reinforce that. Sure, she could take some comfort in the mutualism and even aggression towards the end, but it hadn't changed the fact that she'd been shoved up against a wall and fucked from behind like a little bitch, and that instead of trying to fight the guy off or even change how he was mounting her, she'd let herself fully enjoy it from that submissive position. And that, she knew, was about as far away from Giancarlo as she could get.

No, she had to find a way to fight back... but how could she? It was impossible to ignore that she was now more a woman than ever, and there was also the fact that another heat was due in the next couple days, which would likely only further reinforce those feelings. If it went in the predictably submissive way that it usually did, even the domination-lacking performance of her usual partners would probably do little to detract from what she would inevitably feel.

She was closer, she knew, closer than ever before to actually getting all those points together and taking on the boneheap's challenge, but with each passing day, her doubts, and sense of female self, seemed like they could only grow. To keep her true sense of self, her true determination together enough to make it all the way, her plans would have to be absolutely perfect.

Which, of course, meant that the boneheap and the ghostly nemesis that possessed May, newly motivated by their recent conflict, just had to decide that right about then was the perfect time for the both of them to really start putting the screws to her...