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(Note: The following story contains scenes of abuse and incest, including a father molesting and raping his teenage daughter. Therefore, it will certainly not be to everyone's taste; proceed accordingly.)

No one really knew what the folks in the woods were called. Some called them traditionalists; others called them psychopaths. Jessica's mom simply called them "those fucking leeching savages" and didn't have anything more to say. Jessica had never seen them, but everyone in the region had heard the rumors: some kind of back-to-nature cult, trying to revive the tribal ways of their distant ancestors. They left everyone else alone, though, and those who lived on the boundary of the woods, like Jessica's family, rarely even sighted them. Both groups kept their distance, and that seemed to suit everyone just fine.

If you asked Jessica, though, they were hardly the only ones who lived in primitive conditions. It was true that the whole area wasn't exactly well-off, and in the school she sometimes attended the few kids who had even basic, push-button cellphones were the envy of their peers. At least the other kids, she assumed, didn't have to guess on any given day whether the lights would turn on or the toilets would flush. Not that she really knew, though; the only places she was allowed to be were home and school, and if her dad caught her going anywhere else, the result was both painful and predictable.

Her father, Frand, was the kind of wolf you'd look at and assume they'd star in a truck commercial or something. He was from the southern edge of the state, unlike her mother, who had the more arctic-adapted fur of a northerner and who her daughters primarily took after. Frand, though, had short grey fur, a chiseled muzzle, and a tough, outdoorsman body from working in the woods when he felt like it: chopping wood to sell by the roadside or to set up a fire pit when the power was out, hunting down and ripping up bloody carcasses to cook when they couldn't afford other food, and harvesting some particular plant that his father had told him about to make a poorly distilled rotgut, of which he imbibed more than he illicitly sold.

In short, he wasn't the sort of person you wanted to get in the way of, or you might find yourself shoved painfully aside, with a footpaw in your gut to boot. As far as that attitude went, Frand's family was no exception, and from an early age Jessica learned to be as invisible as she could when he was around. Her elder sister, Elizabeth, was good enough to avoid the worst of it, and their eldest sister, Natalie, had dealt with it by running away long enough ago that Jessica could barely remember her face. Her father never even let them speak her name, and on the rare occasions that he referred to her, his chosen name for her was "that traitorous slutwhore."

As a result, the bulk of Frand's rage ended up finding its way to their mother, Naomi. It was a common enough sight to see her bouncing off various pieces of furniture, or the muffled "whumph" she would make when Frand socked her in the belly, followed by muted sobs that she tried, but failed, to hide from her daughters. Frand was the man of the house, bigger and stronger, with no real way to fight back; that, and the fact that despite his drinking and his rage, he worked just enough to keep them adequately fed in a ramshackle town devoid of any other opportunities for them. And so, they somehow endured, even on the occasions when Naomi would fall over and take a long time to get back up, or the times when, instead of hitting her, he'd grab her by her neckfur and haul her into their bedroom, slamming the door behind them. Her screams would then emanate, muffled by the door, sounding strange and different and unrepressed, over and over again until Jessica would hide in the room she shared with Elizabeth, or go outside to drown them out. It wasn't pleasant, and every couple of weeks Jessica wouldn't be invisible enough and earned a cuffed muzzle or a slammed stomach, but year by year they had somehow managed to endure.

Half a year before, though, was when the real trouble had started, a few months after Elizabeth had started her senior year of schooling and Jessica her junior. It had begun after one of the rare times that Jessica's dad had taken their mom to see the single doctor at the beat-up clinic in town. When they had returned, Naomi had just looked sad, and Frand had been in a rage, breaking glass and smashing furniture, but, oddly enough, not laying a hand on any of them. For a few days, he had sulked around outside, and actually gotten a bit of useful work done. When he came back inside on the third day, though, he was wearing a smile and a veritable aura of alcohol, which was never a good sign. He'd called everyone into the living room, and handed down a new decree: from that point on, women would only be allowed to wear pants and skirts when they were out of the house, and that they were forbidden inside. Jessica, not yet fully understanding why, just thought that it was a bit weird and almost fun; Elizabeth, though, looked nervous, and Naomi even more so. Crossing Frand was a bad idea, though, so they all complied, walking around in their shirts and panties. Jessica didn't really care, as it actually felt oddly liberating, but Emily made a habit of wearing the longest, loosest shirts she had when she was at home, covering up as much of her underwear as she could. Frand, it turned out, didn't like that at all, but that didn't show up until after a week when he was oddly industrious. At the end of it, he took a bus into the nearest real town, coming back with a bag from a low-end department store. As soon as he got home, he threw the bag at Naomi and told her to wash them up, and then walked into the girl's shared bedroom. Finding Elizabeth's clothing drawer, he pulled out all her shirts and ripped them to shred with his claws, ruining them. The new shirts, now all that Elizabeth had to wear, were shorter and tighter, snug enough to show off the small breasts of her essentially adult figure and small enough that no matter how much she pulled them down, they stopped at least a few inches short of even covering the waistband of her panties.

Again, though, life went on, and in a certain sense, things actually seemed better than they had been - Frand still gave Naomi an occasional belt, but now spared his daughters entirely. Frand worked a bit more during the days, meaning that the power and water stayed on, and was generally there, not as angry, at night. The lack of violence, though, was quickly made up by a different sort of strangeness. Frand spent a lot more time just sitting on the couch, staring at them as they went about their business. He spent a lot of time looking at Elizabeth, keeping his gaze low; if she went into her room to study, sometimes he would just stand in the doorway, silent, looking over at her.

It got weirder from there. Elizabeth seemed less and less comfortable, but whenever Jessica asked what was wrong, her sister clammed up and told her not to worry about it, just keep her head down. She tried, but it was hard not to notice that something was definitely going on. Sometimes when Elizabeth was sitting on the couch, Frand would make a big show of pulling Naomi over to stand in front of her, then mashing Naomi's muzzle in against his as he pawed at her body with his big, fuzzy hands. If Elizabeth was studying and Naomi was walking by, Frand would pull her into the bedroom doorway, and give their mother's butt a hard squeeze until she cried out. Afterwards, their mother would return to her quiet sobbing, while their father gave a long, purposeful look over at Elizabeth, as though he was trying to send her a message that Jessica still couldn't quite understand.

Then, one day, Elizabeth had come up to Jessica before she left for school, smelling a little strange, and a look of near-panic on her face. "I- I wet my panties," she'd said, her voice wavering. Jessica tried to respond, but was still confused - neither of them had had that kind of problem since they were very little, and she could hardly imagine why it would be suddenly happening to Elizabeth. "It's not pee, Jess, it's- I guess they still haven't taught you about it, but... it doesn't matter what it is, okay? Just keep quiet and don't tell Mom or Dad about it. I'll- I'll hide these and get some clean ones, it's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay..." Elizabeth wandered off and changed, and they both were soon headed towards school, Jessica puzzled and scared by Elizabeth's demeanor, but hopeful that whatever was going on, it would, in fact, be okay.

When Jessica got home, she didn't say a word to anyone, but it didn't seem to matter. An hour after dinner, Elizabeth was trying to use the dented antenna aerial to pick some sort of signal out of the TV's sea of static when Frand walked in, a big, half-demented grin on his face, holding his hand up in the air. Elizabeth looked over at him and her ears spiked in panic; Frand just grinned even wider and let his had uncurl to reveal the sodden, crumpled whiteness of the panties that Elizabeth had not been able to hide away sufficiently enough.

"So, it's time, and you didn't even think to tell your dear old dad, huh? Think you can just clean up and hide it? Not with my muzzle, girlie. If you think I'm gonna let that go by in my house without taking care of it the way a man ought to, well, that ain't gonna happen."

Frand strode over, and Elizabeth shrank back, but he reached out and grabbed her in a bear hug, pulling her close in to him. She mmphed in surprise as her muzzle pressed in against his shirt, struggling futilely for a moment to escape his iron grasp, only to freeze with a tail-frizzing shock as Frand held her close, pushing one hand into the small of her back while using the other to squeeze her panty-clad butt hard. Then, as Jessica watched, equally frozen in place, his hand slid down across one buttock and rested between them, his fingers pushing in between her legs and then curling and uncurling rapidly in an odd, rhythmic motion. Elizabeth mutedly screamed into his chest, wriggling and struggling to break free, but both his hands stayed resolutely in place. After a minute or so, though, her screams softened and shifted to another pitch, her whole body making a series of weird, rhythmic shudders before she sagged against him. As soon as it happened, Frand removed his fingers but kept Elizabeth held close against him, her knees buckling and her legs twitching and flailing spastically as her hips and tail continued their erratic shudder. Jessica cringed, wondering just how badly Frand had hurt her sister, while her father just chuckled and slung the girl over his shoulder, her butt on display and her legs hanging limply. The crotch of her white panties were soaked, in the way that they had apparently been before, and whatever they were soaked with was giving off an odd, tangy, almost cloyingly sweet odor.

There was a motion behind him, and Jessica looked over to see Naomi half-watching from the kitchen doorway, her head hung. She noticed Jessica, and her other daughter slung over Frand's back, but all she did was mouth "I'm sorry" in Jessica's direction before turning her back and retreating.

Frand just looked at Jessica, the grin frozen on his face. "Just remember, girlie, when the same thing happens to you next year, you just tell your Daddy and it doesn't have to come to this. Your sister and I need to be alone, now. If you know what's good for you, you won't follow."

Frand turned and walked back to his bedroom, Elizabeth beginning to weakly struggle again atop his shoulder. The door slammed behind them, and Jessica, his sudden actions against her sister feeding a sudden surge of anger and foolish bravery, started to storm after them - but by the time her hand was inches from the door, her fear got the best of her, and once again she froze, terrified again of what Frand might do to her for interrupting.

She was close enough to the door that she could hear the thump as her sister hit the bed, a frantic scuffling against the sheets, and the larger thud of Frand landing nearby. There was more scuffling, the short, sharp sound of fabric ripping, and a few moments later Elizabeth screamed. It wasn't the scream of getting hit, though; it was deeper, shorter, and sharper. The bed creaked, there was the sound of Frand letting out a low, breathy grunt, and then the scream came again, strange and different in the way that Naomi's were when she was dragged in there, but horrible just the same. The grunts, creaks, and screams settled into a steady, awful, rhythm, and Jessica felt her stomach flip; after a couple of minutes, when the screams shifted over to an irregular series of of low, ragged, tremulous moans, her mind trying and failing to imagine what horrors might be taking place, she finally fled back to her room and curled up into a ball under the covers.

It was over an hour before Elizabeth showed up in the doorway in a new shirt and panties, still stumbling on wobbly legs with her hips canted oddly, her body trembling with each step. She collapsed into her bed, yanking the covers up to her neck and curling up into a ball under them, before finally letting loose the torrent of sobs that had been waiting to explode out of her. When Jessica went over to try and comfort her, though, Elizabeth grabbed her by the shoulders, looked her straight in the eyes with an uncharacteristic expression of determination pushing out against her fear and pain, and told Jessica something that was the last thing she expected to hear.

"Jessica... you have to run."

"Run?"

"Run, just... run away, find a way into town and sneak onto a bus, hide out in the woods, I don't even know, just... get away, any place that's not here. Dad, the way he is... I can't explain everything now, but you have to understand that, as bad as his punches are, there are way worse ways he can get to you. I don't think I can get away, now that he's so focused on me, but you've got to. He's gonna grab me again, and I just, I can't..." Elizabeth broke off, sobbing, and Jessica wrapped her arms around her and tried to think comforting thoughts. After a moment, though, Elizabeth fought through the sobs and continued.

"Look, Jessica, tomorrow night it's probably gonna happen again, and that mean's he's gonna be busy with me for at least an hour. As soon as that door closes, you've got to get together as much stuff as you can carry and run. Nat was smart, she got away in time, but now... maybe someday I can get away, but now that he's got me, I don't think he's gonna let go. You've got to get away while he's occupied with me, before he really notices you, please! I can't... I just cant bear to think of him taking you, too."

Jessica just nodded, not quite knowing what to think, as Elizabeth trailed off into sobs again. Jessica held onto her though, and once Elizabeth finally quieted down and fell asleep, Jessica soon did the same.

When she woke up, thinking about Elizabeth's determined speech, Jessica still didn't know what to do - the family, flawed as it was, was all she had ever known. When she went to get breakfast, though, Frand was waiting in the living room, and he grabbed her shoulder and tossed her down onto the couch. He yanked her legs apart before mashing his muzzle in between her legs, the odd feeling of pressure and hot breath causing her to squirm, although he only made a couple of disappointed-sounding sniffs before getting up and seemingly leaving her alone. As she got up to go back to the kitchen, though, Frand reached over and stroked a hand along her tail. "Mmm, my darling daughter... soon both you and Elizabeth will be under me together, right where you belong, and we'll all be a nice, happy, family again..." Shivering, Jessica realized with dread that Elizabeth was almost certainly right; whatever Frand had in store for her, it didn't bear waiting around for.

That, then, was how Jessica found herself running through the woods on the night of a full moon, a pack slung across her slender back. True to form, Frand had grabbed Elizabeth after dinner, and, after a show similar to the night before, with plenty of meaningful glances at Jessica, Frand had dragged Elizabeth back into his bedroom. As soon as the door had slammed shut, Jessica had grabbed the pack she had been surreptitiously working on all day. It didn't contain much: a bottle of water, what food she could scrape together, some clothes and a jacket, the handful of change that represented her meagre savings, and the sleeping bag and miniature tent that the pack was supposed to work with, things that Frand had gotten to go camping with the girls during one of the few brief periods when he hadn't been completely awful. Whether it was enough, or how she would get on, she didn't know; all she knew was her fear, a fear which motivated her to grab the pack and run as soon as she was able. Frand had a good nose and a decent tracking sense, so she knew she'd have to run fast, quick, and deep into the woods where tracking was harder. So she grabbed the pack and was running by the time she reached the front door. She had said goodbye to Elizabeth, earlier; she didn't bother talking to Naomi, as she was still hurt by the way she had just stood by when Frand went after Elizabeth. Well, that and she didn't trust Naomi not to give her plan away - she was too enmeshed with Frand to be trusted.

Jessica ran, brush and twigs snapping and rustling around her, fearful of the growls and alien sounds that stood out against the backdrop of the forest's stillness. Her eyes and the full moon were just enough to navigate without stumbling, and she ran in what she thought was a straight line, but without reason or destination; she just had to get away, and her best bet was to simply run, and run, and run until she couldn't any more, then let the tent spring itself into shape, crawl inside, and try to figure out a real plan when the sun came up. If she was lucky, Frand wouldn't catch her, and she might just have a chance, vague as that notion was; if she wasn't, and he did track her down... Jessica shuddered, shoving the thought aside. There was no use thinking about that; the only notion that mattered was that, given what Frand surely had in store for her, she simply could not allow herself to fail.

She ran on, panting, her breath becoming ragged as she pushed her young body to the limit. It wasn't until she ran heavily into something and collapsed with a thud that she finally stopped. As she got to her feet, she watched as the something began to move, coalescing in the dim light into the silhouette of not some_thing_, but some_one._ She froze, adrenaline pulsing across her chest as she cringed back, realizing that aside from her tiny claws, she had nothing to defend herself against whoever it was out here with her. The figure, though, didn't lunge at her; instead, it simply got back on its feet, brushed itself off, and looked back at her with pale, reflective eyes not all that different from her own.