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The meddling started, ironically enough, in one of the places she’d dared to assume was relatively safe. After all, she hadn’t been walking down some secluded alley somewhere, dimly-lit and mostly abandoned, with no one around to intervene. No, she’d been walking through the thin strip of green space that abutted the commercial corridor downtown, not so much a park as a small, straight concrete path with a single line of trees to either side. Well-lit, with plenty of people around, and absolutely no secluded place to be pulled into - certainly not behind the slim trunks of the carefully curated city trees. Even when the path had faded back into sidewalk with skyscrapers rising up in place of trees, it had seemed safe enough, even when the crowd began to thin. No one around had really seemed threatening at all, just a bunch of stiff-collared financial types who probably wouldn’t have dared do much of anything physical at all, for fear of mussing their expensive suits.

She certainly hadn’t suspected the thin, boring-looking dachshund-type in a grey pinstripe suit that had been walking towards her from the opposite direction, so completely engrossed in staring at the display of his smartphone that he didn’t appear to acknowledge her presence at all, walking past her without so much as a glance of acknowledgment.

In fact, she barely even heard his rapid pivot when he was two steps behind her. The only real sense she got that something had gone horribly wrong was when she felt a sudden weight slam into her back, shoving her forward and to the side, and an iron grip grabbing at her suddenly flailing arm. By the time she really even understood what that signified, she’d been body-checked into one of the slim access corridors between buildings, her chest pressed up against a concrete wall, arms twisted and trapped against her back. She struggled to break free, but the man’s grip was like iron, and her wrists couldn’t seem to move at all. There was no freaking way that some skinny jerk, guy or not, could bring that much pressure to bear on his own - and that was why she wasn’t incredibly surprised when, a moment later, the voice that emanated from behind her was clearly that of someone possessed, and by something depressingly familiar.

“Ah… my dear Giancarlo. You wouldn’t believe the tribulations I had to go through to find you again. And yet… here you are, and much to my surprise, still holding on to that vulnerable form you so despised. I would have thought that someone with your fight would have managed to free themselves from a certain someone’s clutches and regained the power and worldview that you so desired. Somehow, though, you go and see a certain professor for answers where there are no questions, only statements. It’s almost like you were trying to… justify staying like this, but the way you’re trying to fight right now, that can’t possibly be the case. Or perhaps… the reality of it really is sinking in. How intriguing…”

Gianna snarled, knowing that her struggles probably wouldn’t do any good, but fighting the damn thing’s grasp nonetheless. “Fuck you! What, fucking Jonah over completely wasn’t enough for you? Or are you here to just fucking gloat or something?”

“Really now… showing such resistance in such a precarious position. I suppose there still is some of that Giancarlo spirit buzzing around in there somewhere. Good! No fun in playing with someone who’s already beaten. I have to admit, I really did like that about you before. Even in the midst of it all, your mind was still fighting, holding on to the struggle to make sure you experienced every moment of torment to the fullest. You could have given in, tuned out, just let it happen and tried to ignore it; but no, you just had to keep fighting. Ironic though it might be, there is something so singularly delicious in seeing someone so completely assured of their power over others fighting tooth and nail for that control, even when they know just how much it has been stripped away…”

The man leaned in closer, close enough that Gianna could feel his breath on her ear as the apparition spoke through him. “Tell me… what do you think Giancarlo would see if he were in my position, right here? Do you think he’d see you? Consider how you felt, what the repercussions would be? Or would he just look at you and see power - the power that he had, and that you did not? Would he see your struggle, or laugh at its futility? Would he see anything but the inevitable clash of man and woman, his dominance, your surrender? Don’t you think that’s exactly what you’d do if our positions were reversed? And yet, taking on the position that you’re in, all you can show is anger and indignation, like you still have some power or say over what happens to you. Deep down, though, that Giancarlo part of you knows just how deep that gulf really is. He knows that, out of all the woman he set his eye on to take, only one ever got away before he’d claimed his prize, and that only came about due to the intervention of a… mutual friend. And that is because Giancarlo knew the truth. Men can choose to be soft or hard, gentle or dominant, but they are the ones who choose. Women think they have a choice, to resist or to fight, and perhaps they do for a time… but as you yourself have proven, time and again, the only real choice that women ultimately have is to endure. One that is so deeply ingrained within them that they can do it without literally a second thought.”

Gianna gnashed her teeth, trying to turn around enough to look back at him but not quite managing it. “Seriously, you’re going back to this crap again? You really think I’m not aware of all the bullshit this body puts me through? That it’s not already somehow wetting itself down inside just to make sure I can handle it if you do decide to force this random guy to rape me? I know every bit of that humiliation, and I’ve known it over and over and over again thanks to that fucking sack of bones. And what, you think you’re gonna be the one to break me? The one to hammer it in hard enough that I just throw up my hands and turn into some… pathetic, helpless girl or something? Well, news flash, asshole, I’ve been through enough shit already that even if you do rape me, right here and right now… yeah, I might have to fucking endure it, since you’re not even gonna give me a fair chance to fight back, but it’s not gonna make me think any different. Because there’s one real fucking difference between me and them. I may not be able to fight this, but I can fight to go back to the way I’m supposed to be. And if this is what I’ve got to endure to get there, then… do your fucking worst, you piece of shit. That is, if you really think you can get away with it before someone spots this. It isn’t that secluded here, you know, and I’m betting, if all you can do is possess someone, you probably can’t do more than one at a time. And unless you really want to fuck this particular guy’s reputation for some reason by having him hauled away by the cops, then maybe you ought to just fuck off before I start screaming or something…”

“Oh, Giancarlo… it really just isn’t sinking in, is it? I already told you before - I’m not here to prove or disprove a point. I’m not here to lie, or to tell you the truth, or to force anything. I’m here to put ideas in your head that will give you the sort of torment that is most enjoyable to me, to leave you confused and despondent, unable to even properly decide whether you should be angry or terrified at your situation. I’m here to have fun watching you suffer - and yet, even knowing that, even hearing me tell it straight out, you still know that my words can’t help but sink in somehow.”

“Heh… you really think reiterating a few points of view is really going to make me feel all that more tortured, or any less determined to do whatever is necessary to get through this?”

“No, not really. It’s more simply a way of leading up to a slightly more intriguing, if perhaps obvious, reminder. You might have thought that the thing, with Jonah, was a simple matter. One and done, and easily put in the rearview mirror. But here’s the thing: I may have to play by… certain rules, but I can see everything you do, everyone you’re with. And apart from one particular person who’s already… occupied, I can inhabit anyone, at any time, like this harmless-looking person walking down the street next to you. Only next time… who knows? Maybe it’ll be one of your co-workers. Or, maybe it’ll be one of that delightful gay duo who you rely on so heavily for a certain sort of support. Maybe it’ll even be your slutty, erstwhile colleague, who just can’t help inviting her rapey little friends over next time you’re there to give you both the proper double-teaming that you should have had in the first place.

“Ah, and why would I do this, you might ask? Well, it’s simple enough - because it’s fun, and because, thanks to your annoying determination and your stubborn cleverness in avoiding the curse that our mutual friend has supposedly put on you, the one emotion that I’ve never really had a chance to enjoy from you is fear. For someone such as myself, fear is a decidedly desirable elixir, but hard to achieve with someone gripping onto what slim power you have available. However, knowing that literally any man you come across might give you a proper working over out of the blue… yes, perhaps that might do it. I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”

For a moment, the arms holding her went completely stiff, then relaxed somewhat as the possessed voice returned, seeming slightly more perturbed. “Hmph… blasted rules, creeping in to spoil a particularly delectable moment. Nevertheless… I am apparently under the obligation to tell you that such avenues of access are only open to me due to the special status of you being involved in this particular game with the forbearance of a… particular entity. For the duration, and with that forbearance, anyone in your physical presence is fair game. Should it conclude, one way or another, I suppose I could no longer make good on such threats. But… from what I can tell, you’ve got a ways to go yet before that can happen. Guess I’ll just have to be quick about getting my fun in then, yes? In any case, I shall simply say goodbye for now. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon enough…”

The grip released suddenly, but by the time Gianna could whirl around, growling, the man was already stumbling backwards, his eyes looking glassy and unfocused as the effects of the possession wore off.

“Huh, wha… what just happened?” he said, looking around in confusion - obviously, the demon hadn’t bothered to let him retain the memories of what had happened like he had with Jonah. One look at Gianna’s seething face, though, and he took another step backward, looking absolutely terrified. No, this one was definitely harmless enough by himself, but it did mean that if the demon really was to go through with its threat, no man would truly be safe.

“Whoa, there! I, I don’t even… here!” the man said, abruptly shoving his hand into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. “Take it! Just take it! Please, I just want to get home-“

That was about the point that Gianna just let her rage flow and punched him square in the face, and while the blow was disappointing in that it didn’t manage to even draw any blood, the man did stagger back into the opposite wall and slump down into a sitting position against it, looking absolutely terrified. What was it the demon had said about men and power?

“You’re pathetic,” Gianna spat down at him, gave a thin, mostly unsatisfied grin at the look of terror on his face, and stomped off back towards her car. Sure, there was gonna be plenty more that she’d have to suffer to get her challenge, but there was no way she was going to be fucking afraid about it. And if anyone wanted to make a point of it, they’d get to see the kind of wrath that both Giancarlo and Gianna were capable of.

She wasn’t, however, the only one who was enraged by the demon’s malicious escalation. When she went to visit May shortly afterwards, there wasn’t even a moment with her normal personality - by the time she answered the door, her eyes were already fully white, flashing with possessed fury.

“That… thing thinks it can up the ante? No. Never! That upstart demi-demon actually has the temerity to challenge me?”

“Um, actually, I’m pretty sure it’s coming after-“

“It actually thinks it can interfere? Then it will learn that there is a difference between good and defenseless. It may be vicious, but it is also weak, cowardly. Sneaking around and possessing when it thinks no one is watching. But I am watching, now, and if it simply thinks it can inhabit those around you, and drive them to lust-filled madness… if I can drive out something as powerful as that vile sack of bones, a thing like that won’t even be a challenge. If it truly persists with such an agenda, I will… punish it.” While it was hard to tell, considering how the tone of the possessed voice didn’t usually vary much, there was enough of a certain type of emphasis on that last sentence to leave little doubt as to how much the creature possessing May meant it.

Still, when it continued, the voice seemed slightly more resigned. “Nevertheless… it is beyond my power to stand against every man who might come into your proximity. If it is sneaky enough… it could make an attempt that I could not detect, one that might succeed before I am able to intervene. Still, I should be able to stop most of it, and so there should be only slightly more risk than you already face. Whatever happens, though, you must remain strong. Whatever happens, you must remember your strength, even now, remember that you still have a choice… and you can, safely enough, make the right one…”

“You’re still going on about that?” Gianna replied, starting to feel a little annoyed despite the thing’s promises of assistance. “I’ve been… raped, fucked, how many times, and you still think I should prefer to stay in a form where this happens to me all the fucking time?”

May’s possessed face seemed to look a little cross at that. “No, from your perspective, I doubt that you would prefer it. I suppose, if you had any sense of justice or fairness, you’d probably understand that you… deserve it, in a way, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s really quite simple: you have destructive, damaging forces within you, and in the form of a man, you have the muscle and equipment readily at hand to unleash them. But if you do so… you will destroy others, and in the process, you will destroy what is left of your warped character bit by bit, until there is no going back. You may continue to disbelieve me, you may continue to resist the truths of which I speak, but know this: if you return to your male form, the boneheap wins. It may convince you that it has lost, but it will ultimately win, and you will ultimately remain in its thrall, to its strength and to the detriment of everyone else. Even now, it is trying to weasel itself off the hooks that a certain set of rules has sunk into it, to continue its manipulations no matter the outcome of its challenge. Having it remain, and consolidate its power… after what it has already subjected this world to, it is more than I am willing to bear. To truly win against it, you must concede, and for the sake of far more people than yourself, I must do everything in my power to show you that it is the best of your available options.”

“Heh… you really expect me to believe that? Because so far, this option has super-sucked, and I… fuck, you and I both know that I’d probably go back to my old ways as a guy. Big surprise there, right? But seriously, after all this shit… I know it’s not even on the table, but if I had to get magicked into giving up raping people just to get back to being a guy again…”

“Sadly, such an option would be up to the boneheap, and I am quite sure that it would never be offered, as such a deal would not be in its interests. As I have said before, however, you can give it up. You can break free of the oppressive conditions that have been placed upon you and live a normal, if female, life. Surely you have seen how much more… diverse your life has been since your transformation?”

“Right, and what is a ‘normal’ female life anyway? Because from what I’ve seen, it sure involved a whole lot of getting molested, fucked, or straight-up raped…”

“I cannot promise it would be flawless. You have talked to other females, though. You have seen their behaviors and interactions. Some, such as the… recently transformed, may be anomalies, but others are not. You have had many bad experiences very close together. But… look at normal women. How often are they actually being subjected to what you fear? Some have not been at all, most have dealt with far less than you have already endured. You could find far more… peace that you realize.”

“Far more peace? Come on! I know you’ve got to be aware of the fact that I go into heat every four fuckin’ days! If you think-“

“There has been one primary heat during which you have suffered, due to a type of possession that I will now be working actively to prevent. There is another where you could have suffered, but did not due to the rash actions of another. And in the encounters since… can you truly deny that they were anything less than satisfactory? I have sensed what you felt, and while your head has remained angry and confused… your heart has not.”

“My… heart is a lump of muscle that goes thump-thump-thump inside my chest. My head lets me choose what I want to do. And if you think I wanted that…”

“And yet, you went to the greatest lengths that you could to create a situation where you could enjoy the sensations with as few conflicting thoughts and sensations as possible. With enough willpower and determination, it is possible, if not usually practical, to get through heat without engaging in sex. However, if you truly hated it, if you truly chose to avoid it, you could. The choice you made was to acknowledge it existed, acknowledge the sensations it created, and choose the only scenario where you had a chance to embrace them. You are choosing to do more than simply struggle and endure, and while you can continue to tell yourself that is not the case, you can only deny for so long before you are forced to acknowledge the truth. You may not want all of this, but you and I both know that this isn’t even close to the worst thing that you can imagine being subjected to. You know that there are some parts of this worth tolerating, and even worth desiring. And while I am sure that you will continue stating your defiance to that, I will continue reminding you of what is right about this until you understand that conceding to this form is, truly, the best possible outcome.”

‘Ngrr… fuck you and your meddling! You’re as bad as that damn sack of bones!” Gianna spun around on her heel and stormed back out, slamming the door behind her. True, whatever that other thing was, it certainly hadn’t fucked with her in nearly the way the boneheap had, but at the same time it was also abundantly clear that it had its own agenda. Is that what this whole thing was? Some sort of fucked-up cosmic power play with Gianna stuck in the middle? No, probably nothing so grand as all that, but it certainly seemed like all sides were starting to come at her at once.

It was absolutely no surprise, then, when she got back to her apartment to find the boneheap, lumped motionless on the couch, appearing to stare at what sounded like a soap opera with what she could only guess was extreme indifference. Nevertheless, upon noting her storming in with an angry glare, it swiveled somewhat - although it wasn’t so much a swivel, as a collection of the bones falling slightly towards her in a generally clockwise direction, the horrid grinding clack of bone on bone managing to claw through her seething rage and send an unsettling shiver down her spine.

“was exPecting arrival. more players intent on joiNing game. no others set rules, though. interFerence not desired.”

“Yeah? Mind telling it to them?” The boneheap seemed to ignore her, though.

“however. have not forGotten original naTure of curse invoked before game fully established. underestiMated cunning, other unanticipated events. nonetheless. tell me, gian-carlo... what is fear?”

“W-what?”

“fear. women's fear. cannot help but woNder... have truly learned? Can truly understand nature? enterTaining nonetheless, but defiance remains, uninformed. somehow not... broken, yet.”

“And I’m not going to be, you sonuva-”

“of course not. broken toy cannot entertain. no, quite curious to watch struggle as challEnge approaches. no satisfaction in observing fear if foregone. So... will cooperate. will alLow attempt to block possession of nearby males. however. will not allow blocking party to enGage in possession also. no forcing of males, but no blocKing of curse. males will be males. hormones, instincts, behaviors intact. events will hapPen as intended. will look forward to observing reactions, choices…”

“Right, like you always do. But believe this - that challenge is going to happen, and I’m going to win it, so-”

“win or loss in challenge is... open question. no interest in setting game if not. perhaps gian-carlo can still achieve desired result. if maniPulation occurs, not intended to cause win or loss. intended to provide stimulus, create choice, response, reaction. no need to consider manipulation of outcome until challenge occurs. then, perhaps deal will be struck. before then, only goal is making things... interesting. watching to see what prevails. fear. defiance. or, something unpredictable…”

The boneheap, apparently unaware of the irony, predictably faded into the background before Gianna could manage to get off a more properly rage-filled reply. Still, out of all the supernatural entities she’d had to deal with that day, Gianna had to grudgingly admit that, at least in one instance, the bloody sack of bones had actually been the most respectful of them. At the very least, it hadn’t tried to stick yet another manipulation into the mix.

In fact, it had been relatively straightforward, even if it had brought up the point that its initial curse, or whatever, was still in play. But then again, it had been in play the entire time she’d been Gianna, and so far the instincts and attitudes she’d retained from Giancarlo had managed to push her through it all. It just needed to hold out, and help her avoid having to deal with anything worse, for a while longer. Not that it would be so simple, considering those attitudes only seemed to be able to properly fend things off four days out of every six. Gianna was mindful enough of the situations she’d have to face down, especially since she still had to experience everything that came with each point she had to earn towards her challenge…

Matters, of course, were not entirely helped by having close female friends. May, at least, was often enough restrained, but the closer they became, the more often their evenings ended with a very sensitive part of Gianna held completely enthralled to May’s fingers or tongue. Needless to say, it was still a far sight better than having a cock commanding that sort of attention, but it still meant she had to accept someone inside her in that female way that the Giancarlo part of her still loathed. Sure, she could reciprocate, but her fingers were a poor substitute, and to actually have to do something like that in a way that was at all gentle or caring… there was no question it made May happy, and there was something at least about watching her face and feeling her tense and clench as she came, but even in her transformed body it was almost anathema to her sense of arousal. She was happy to be with May because it meant not being with a guy, and perhaps they were now even genuinely friends, but somehow having sex with May the way that May wanted did little else but make Gianna desperately long for the sort of hunt that was now far too dangerous for her to participate in.

Heather, on the other hand… well, she was beginning to cause a different problem entirely. Now that she had been freed from any lingering bits of masculinity that might have had the sense to be appalled by it, she’d allowed herself to turn into… well, a total slut, or at least something considerably sluttier than most comparable canine not-in-heat females. In an almost ironic way, she had taken on the habit of being almost as handsy with men as Hugh had been with women, completely unashamed at slapping some guy’s ass, giving his crotch a solid grope, or using a dance at a club as an excuse to grind up against him.

Of course, being guys, instead of trying to get away or slapping her hands off in annoyance, they were more than happy to grope right back - and, perversely, Heather hardly seemed to even mind. Heck, she practically advertised for it: while Gianna was almost certain that the boneheap hadn’t saddled her with any particular clothing restrictions, Heather had taken to wearing the tightest, sleekest sort of leggings that were available, the kind that put her posterior on proud display, which obviously drew far more attention than her modest, if reasonably proportional, corgi-sized bust. It also put… other parts of her on display, and since, like Gianna and most other canines, she had a generous enough thigh gap, when Gianna happened to glance down in Heather’s direction it was hard not to see the cameltoe outline of her spade sitting in sharp, detailed relief between her legs.

It was, in fact, exactly the sort of display that would have gotten Giancarlo instantly rigid and searching for an alley he could pull her into and get her quickly stretched around his cock. It had a similar effect on plenty of other guys, and while they generally weren’t as rapey, Heather seemed to have no problem getting horny, not simply wet, just as readily. Whenever they were out together, it was a common enough occurrence for Heather to start aggressively… flirting with a guy, who often waylaid her soon afterwards, dragging her probably willingly into someplace secluded from which her impassioned, unrestrained moans quickly emanated a few moments later.

For some reason, they always made Gianna momentarily flash back to the stupid mess that had occurred in the van, stumbling desperately away as she’d heard the anguished, wracking, and desperately feminine sound as Heather had succumbed to the first climax a man had forced through her newly female form. That, in turn, still made Gianna feel more conflicted than vengefully happy - and always, to her considerable consternation, left her panties soaked with unbidden readiness. Why the fuck should that turn her on, anyway? No, it was probably what her gynecologist had said - that her body supposedly got ready whenever sex threatened to occur, in case the male in question decided to stick it to her instead. Nonetheless, it was still unsettling, and the fact that Heather now seemed to find a way to get herself fucked all the fucking time made it considerably worse.

Even Amanda, for all her apparent timidity in the office, seemed to become far less so on the far too frequent club outings the pair of them now reliably encouraged. Instead of leggings, she seemed to prefer tight sheath miniskirts that seemed to extend just to the level to hide her panties when standing up straight, and certainly short enough to easily facilitate a hand sneaking underneath. It also meant that when grinding, her panties, when she remembered or deigned to wear them, were rubbing right up against a guy, and when she hadn’t… easy enough to predict what happened then, right? As such, it hadn’t been much of a challenge to quickly learn that Amanda’s favorite position seemed to be getting fucked up against a wall, or that she liked it fast and hard enough to quickly reduce her to a quivering, knee-buckled mess, held up by her paramour as he pounded her absolutely silly. Which Giancarlo probably wouldn’t have minded watching, but in her current form, all it usually meant was that she ended up having to fend off the crowd of annoyingly handsy guys by herself. Couple that with the fact of getting wet from the glimpses she’d catch of it, and fending off hands became doubly hard as the feminine parts of her mind had little trouble spinning up similar fantasies involving the men around her.

There was no question that the behavior irked Gianna to no end, especially since she just didn’t…. get it. Well, to be fair, she did kind of understand it in Hugh/Heather’s case. Hugh had been an oversexed, if cowardly, sleazeball from day one. Carry that sexuality over to Heather’s female form, and add in the underlying, overcompensated-for timidity that seemed to sneak back into her more overt personality and made it harder for her to derail things once they got started with a guy, and it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together and see how Heather so frequently ended up with a cock buried deep in her diminutive, overstretched spade.

Amanda, though… how did it make any sense? So far as Gianna knew, she’d been a woman from the get-go, grown up in society as a girl, knew how crazy the sexual dynamics were with canines, knew what she had to be in for. Knew what guys wanted, what they’d do to her, how vulnerable all that made her… and yet, over and over, she kept succumbing to it, not just giving in but willingly encouraging it to happen. If she’d been in heat, it would have been understandable, especially given just how familiar Gianna was with its compulsion. But this was just… any time there were guys, alcohol and dancing involved. She wasn’t pissed about it, she didn’t mind, she actually anticipated it… it drove Gianna crazy. And it wasn’t just because it actively disappointed the Giancarlo part of her - willing enthusiasm hadn’t exactly been Giancarlo’s thing. After what she’d been through, after all the shit she’d had to deal with when it came to men, to see someone actively invite that kind of behavior drove the logical part of her up the wall.

Still, it wasn’t like she could just ask Amanda why she got that way. Somehow, improbable friends or not, it seemed like the question “So, how come you like to go out after work and be a complete slut sometimes?” probably wouldn’t help said friendship along… and, like it or not, Amanda was literally the only person with an actual heterosexual female perspective Gianna could really turn to when information from that perspective was needed. No, that wouldn’t work, but maybe a subtler approach would - like a subtle comment, during their next night out, about just how much Amanda had gotten into it… or, rather just how much had gotten into her…

She’d actually laughed a little in response to Gianna’s question. “Hey, who doesn’t want to get off work and let loose, right? Nothing wrong with that. I have to say, though, it’s kinda strange that you’re, like, not into it at all.”

“Really? You find that strange? You, ah, have seen me with May, right?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Amanda had replied. “Yeah, I know you’re involved with her, like ‘relationship’ involved, but I mean, that’s not the same thing, right?”

“And… how is that not the same thing?”

“Well, sure, I know you’re together and stuff, and I mean… of course you can have relationships with guys, gals, whatever works for you, right? But there’s sex and stuff in relationships like that, and then there’s, y’know, getting it on, and those are two very different things. You’ve got a spade, you’ve got needs, and there’s only one real way to satisfy them, right?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I get it, you and May, that’s serious, and that’s great. Some of my other friends, they’re with women too, and totally serious about it, never even think of dating a dude, but that serious is still what happens in between the times guys are pounding them silly.

“Look… we were literally side by side at that heat club, so I know how much guys do it for you. And I mean, maybe you have the right idea - I’ve lived with a couple of guys here and there, and they can be real beasts to be around, like, constantly. But there’s no way you can tell me that what you have with her doesn’t involve both of you getting with guys on a regular basis too.”

“Yeah, when I have to, but there’s a… difference, you know? To doing what you have to do, when you have to do it, versus going out to a club and just, you know…”

“Doing it because you want to?” That was the point where Amanda had leaned in, with an all-too-knowing grin on her face. “Sure, you play hard to get with guys when we’re out on the town, but I’ve seen the way you squirm when you’re watching me with a guy. Heck, I’ve smelled the scent from the little wet spot you don’t think you’re leaving on the car seat, even though you’ve gotta know that you’re well soaked through. You keep telling yourself that you really don’t want to, that you’re into May and that’s that… but we both know, as canine women, that sometimes no matter what your heart wants, or how much your heart wants it, there are times when your spade wants to be spread by something else entirely. And there’s nothing wrong with either one, but you also can’t have one without the other…”

Gianna, of course, had a rather different frame of reference regarding making women’s bodies appear to “want” certain things, but that was a set of experiences she certainly wasn’t going to get into, and there was no way in hell she was going to admit to what Amanda was insinuating. Instead, she was content to let Heather jump in about the ways she liked to have her spade well-spread, and listen to the two of them depressingly slide the conversation into comparisons of the various cocks that had been slamming them earlier.

At the very least, awkward conversation or not, she’d managed to hint that the nightclub adventures were not all that high on her list: Amanda, at least, seemed to become more restrained about inviting her on as many ridiculous outings, which in turn meant that many fewer situations where the risk of disastrous, plan-derailing encounters were particularly high.

Whether other people wanted to be slutty, though, was hardly the issue. Once Gianna really got serious, it was supposed to have been simple: make the plan to get to and through the challenge, stick with it, ignore everything else. Suffer through what had to be suffered, all the while keeping her eye on that one, crucial event that would let her be rid of this nonsense entirely and become Giancarlo again. And in the meantime, use everything that she could from his experiences, and try to keep her mindset clear: she was, she had to be Giancarlo, and all of this other stuff, all those thoughts and feelings, had to somehow be relegated to little more than a distraction.

Well… okay, admittedly not quite that simple. She’d already tried a form of the direct approach, but with the boneheap and everyone else messing around with her, that hadn’t done much good at all. No, the whole damn thing was more like an elaborate balancing act, in multiple ways at once: not just balancing the nonsense from the boneheap, the not-angel, and others, but balancing herself and what she’d have to go through.

It wasn’t, after all, about time so much as it was about count - or at least about the way the two things had to balance. However long it took her to earn them, all that really mattered was racking up the boneheap’s stupid points until she could get to that challenge - but at the same time, she had to somehow be prepared by that point to fight through whatever it came up with.

There was still the idea of the heat club, again - a shortcut for sure, but certainly dangerous in various ways, the least of which being how heat made it that much more difficult to stay in control of a situation, especially a sexual one. Another session like the last one had to be risky, right? But then again, so was just walking around being female and the encounters that could conjure up, like what could have happened with the demon if it had decided to go all the way again. It was clear enough that, either way, doing anything at all involving men could pose a risk to her sanity.

But avoiding it, delaying things, spending days thankfully away from sex but also away from earning points… not only did that aggravate the boneheap, but it meant dragging all of this out, meant even more days of having to be a woman and all the infuriating things that were visited upon her, boneheap or otherwise. The only way through was to strike as perfect of a balance as she could with it all: not too fast that it fucked her up or drained her resolve, not too slow that she had to deal with this crap for too long and let her resolve get slowly ground down instead. She had to balance everything: herself, her friends, her interactions, her dealings with the supernatural forces buffeting her from every directions… and most of all her own mind, keeping the spark of Giancarlo front and center and absolutely worth fighting for.

The problem was, such a balance proved to be nearly impossible, especially with the demon’s provocation still pinging around inside her head. The thing was, it had actually been true: whether due to the boneheap’s negligence in enforcing its initial proclamations, or Gianna’s own skills, or something else entirely, she had hardly been raped or even seriously accosted every single day. Casual gropings at work aside, there had even been some days that had been… good, days when she’d actually managed to feel somewhat safe and in control, days when the fear of having what power she had instantly stripped away from her had actually managed to let her be.

Now, though… whatever the not-angel might or might not be doing, it felt like there wasn’t a single man she could risk overlooking. There was little question that the essence of Giancarlo’s personality was about having power, and using it - he was the aggressor, the predator, never the victim. Every time she had power stripped away, it wasn’t just that she had to suffer, but that she had to be Gianna: female, weak, vulnerable, invaded, her entire body subject to the whims of another with little avenue for resistance, recourse or revenge. Hell, when those violations happened, it was near impossible to stop herself from feeling, reacting, even enjoying…

In short, every time it happened, every time sex was forced upon her and she was forced to accept it, she drifted that much further away from who Giancarlo was supposed to be - and she knew that the more she had to dwell on it, the further still he would become. And what would be the point of the challenge, and all of her working and striving, if there wasn’t all that much Giancarlo left to restore by the time she got there?

No, she had to fight on, had to find just the right, perfect balance that kept the boneheap from taking revenge for her avoiding the world, but kept her well-protected from the sense of vulnerability that threatened to encompass her personality. Assuming there was even a perfect balance to begin with, but she had to at least hope for one she could live with that would let her make it to the challenge intact.

The problem, though, was that as it turned out, the boneheap wasn’t going to leave it at that, even if she managed to keep it minimally entertained. No, its interest in her had definitely been renewed, and as she tried to begin racking up weeks and points, it decided, like the sadistic bastard it was, to start tweaking the rules of the game around her.

Given its particular obsessions with certain things, it wasn’t entirely surprising that the uptick in meddling began in her underwear drawer. Naturally, Gianna had been managing to stay away from the two particular sets that had game conditions attached to them (and, for that matter, the ones that had no only literal strings attached, but were the only things actually holding the garment together), but even the supposedly normal underwear she had was now beginning to change in subtle and not-so-subtle ways.

Of course, “normal” still meant annoyingly feminine, but Gianna had even found a few minor workaround for that - not much, and it annoyingly only worked with skirts rather than anything tighter, but she’d found a way to sort of shrug on a pair and have them basically held up on her hips without being stretched so tight between her legs. Not much of a respite, but it was at least a minor rebellion, which had to be worth something - plus, having them so arrayed seemed to at least somewhat limit the attentions of guys once they managed to sneak a peek.

That, perhaps unsurprisingly, was the first thing that the boneheap decided to counter. Just like that, all of a sudden every pair of panties had the angle of the leg-holes and the design of the waistband altered somehow, so that the only way she could get them to sit at all comfortably, and not be at risk of falling down and causing even more peril, was to wear them the proper, snugged-into-place way. Which put her right back to where she’d been before: with something always tight against her spade, always gently rubbing and nudging against it with every step she took, a constant, unceasing reminder of what she had between her legs - and what she didn’t.

If that had been it, the change might have been halfway bearable - she’d dealt with it before, and she could deal with it again, so long as she could get to the point of ignoring the feeling and letting it fade into the background. This time, however, hardly a day had passed before they changed again - this time, the inner strip of fabric that ran across the crotch had changed, and instead of regular cotton had been changed for something softer, almost velvety to the touch. Weirdly, when she first put them on, they actually seemed like an upgrade: more comfortable, maybe even less obtrusive. That notion, though, vanished just about as soon as she tried actually moving at a normal walking pace in them: somehow the new fabric managed to alternately grip and slide against her spade, and while mercifully the thing was far less sensitive than other parts inside her, it made the notion of ignoring the spade just about impossible anytime she moved. Plus, while the sensation wasn’t intensely arousing per se, it only took a couple of times pacing through her apartment to get that part of her worked up enough that, low-grade or no, she was probably ready enough that a guy wouldn’t even have to work her up more before… which, she realized was probably the point.

What other choice did she have, though? If she went out and bought anything new, they managed to transform themselves into the “appropriate” style by the time she got them home. Going without… coupled with one of the stupidly short skirts pretty much guaranteed a lewd conduct citation, assuming some guy didn’t get to her first with literally no barrier to being instantaneously penetrated. Trying to wear the leggings without something underneath wasn’t really any better, since that changed them from spade-hugging to literally displaying its every contour and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, which was about as good as wearing ones that read “molest me” plastered across the butt. Which meant… suffering through wearing the damn underwear, and pretty much just switching over to leggings all the time, since if she was going to have to deal with something snugged up against her all the time anyway, she could at least wear the closest thing that she had to pants, rather than a skirt that was practically a badge of femininity (and, considering the ones the boneheap allowed, slutty femininity at that).

So, it was one more burden that she had to clench her jaw and deal with, and Gianna could only imagine that the boneheap was sitting invisibly in a corner somewhere, enjoying watching her try not to squirm while she walked into work. Spending the day slightly aroused was an absolute pain - considering, though, how many times she’d had to agonize her way through a work shift while in the throes of heat, it was at least comparatively less aggravating to deal with.

No, the real problem revolved around the points themselves - and the boneheap’s power to adjust them as it saw fit. True, the boneheap couldn’t change all of it: apparently, back when it had begun the game and stated that the terms were set, the specific terms that it had been stated could not be changed: one point for her getting felt up, two for “penis entering spade,” three if the guy came inside, four if a guy actually tied her and she was stuck with him, and his cum, inside her for far too fucking long. If those things happened, she got points, and so far as she could tell, changing any of those particulars would bring down the sort of consequence from whatever “One” was that the boneheap seemed keen to avoid. But all the other modifications to points that it had made afterwards, on a whim… those, apparently, had no such protections, and were simply considered something like bonus points on top of the primary game, things to be rewarded or withheld when the boneheap decided it was appropriate. Which, she knew, had actually worked in her favor, as it had allowed certain bonuses that had sped things along with far more tolerable encounters - especially the ones involving May. The problem was, though, that May was also the host for the apparition that was in opposition to the boneheap, a fact that, by now, certainly wasn’t lost on it.

And so, to that end, all it had really done was to go back to its original definitions, but in such a way that limited the points she could get from being with May. In fact, all it had really done was make it clear that May’s strap-on no longer qualified as a “penis,” so whatever she did with her, no matter how intense, would only get her a single point. Still better than nothing, but the message was clear enough: if she wanted to get a chance to be Giancarlo again any time soon, spending time with May wasn’t going to do it.

Of course, she’d complained bitterly when the change was made, as she usually did, but all that led to was the awful sack of bones offering a “helpful” additional bonus: a guaranteed extra point if she had sex from a submissive or restrained position where the male had total control over the act - forced or otherwise.

By that point, feeling resigned rather than angry, she had simply glared sullenly at the amorphous, sack-clad lump and idly asked it one simple question: “Why?” And, at least somewhat to her surprise, it had actually, silently hesitated, somehow giving her the courage to elaborate.

“I know, it’s not the first time I asked you, but really… why? What is all this to you? You already said, way back when, that it isn’t sexual for you, that it can’t be, that you can’t even… get off in that way. If you wanted to just straight-up torture me, revel in my suffering, you wouldn’t have blocked those mob guys back then, or that possession-demon-thing now. And whatever the fuck you are, you’re way too twisted for this to really be some sort of game, some thing that’s all about rules and points - that’s all just a means to an end. So what the fuck are you getting out of this?”

Again, it hesitated before answering, a few stray bones clacking here and there seeming to serve as some semblance of being in thought.

“assessment generally correct. have no genDer, no physical sex. have no imbalance of power, except with One, and even then imbalance only partly accurate. however, many species here with separate sexes. most have imbalance of power between one aNother. most have reality where one sex can force and other can be forced. one dominates and other submits. one has choice, other is forced to acCept that choice. some by strength, some by instinct. but some deny, some resist, some pretend by creating society that claims otherWise. make rules that say otherwise.

“reality still there, though. power, control, still there. fascinating to observe interplay between what is strived and what is real. not about act, directly, not about penetration or pain. why canine, not feLline, was chosen. too much pain places focus on body instead of mind, but enforced contact of knot enhances it, makes imbalance clear and lingeRing. not about force, but being forced to recognized imbalance. fascinating for one sex to be convinced of power by others, then have it stripped away in single instant. fasciNating to watch reactions when faced with reassertion of imbalance never actually gone. fascinating to see what happens when confronted with terrible reality. and then subjected anew, again and again and again.”

The boneheap gave one of its dry, awful, clattering facsimiles of a laugh, seeming almost to revel as the sound of it echoed dully around the room.

“even more fascinating to see when subject was one of dominant sex, before. more reactions, more compLexity. females subjected from birth almost always reach single point where reactions to sex generally fixed. commitment to resignation, rebellion, or pheNomenon to which h-ugh succumbed. become predictable, boring. observation pointless when outcomes already known. same reason why further interAction with h-ugh not of use. in this case, however, reaction not guaranteed. outcome not proven. when subjected to imbalance, to power differential, to capability of being forced, thoughts, acTions, emotions still evolving. not likely to ever be settled entirely. worthy of continued... experimentation.

“still, made rules of game. rules speCifically set when game formed, complied with. other conDitions flexible. points never removed, only added. five hundred, earn bonus round, right to partake in challenge. prize is return to life of gian-carlo. until then, however, experiments will continue, reactions obServed. entertainment from reactions to female tribulations, reacting to reality again and again, not to be denied.”

It seemed content to leave it there, and Gianna wasn’t intent on pushing it further. In fact, at the time she’d been almost half-stunned that the thing would just explain itself without bothering to intentionally obfuscate it. But then again, in a condition of near-complete power over her situation, why would it need to? It could have stated that yes, all it wanted to do was sadistically torture her, and she couldn’t have really done anything differently in response.

Still, it had given her a clue of sorts: whatever else it might be considering, it hated being bored, and the reason it was still fucking with her was that she was somehow still interesting to it. If she could be predictable, if she could somehow make it thing that she’d given into one of the things it had mentioned and that there was no point in observing her further, then it would leave her alone.

Except… there was no way that she could do that, not without tacitly giving into the wishes of one of the other entities manipulating her. Sure, maybe she could get the boneheap to leave out of sheer boredom, but the only way to get it bored like that was to accept her current state, in one way or another, the same way that Hugh/Heather had - and if she did that, and the boneheap just up and left, she’d still be stuck as Gianna, still be stuck as female, still have to deal with all of the same crap she already was, just with one less creepy watcher.

No, the plan still had to be the same. And even trying to be more predictable in the interim, in some hope to get the boneheap to be less involved and tone down its meddling… well, resignation, for obvious reasons, wasn’t an option, and succumbing to bimbo-tastic sluttiness like Heather had was even less appealing, for those same reasons. Rebellion, sure, she already had that, but given the times she’d tired that and ended up with her spade wrapped around someone’s dick anyway, that was hardly a reliable way to dull the thing’s interest.

So, once again her best answer was to simply say “fuck it,” and keep bulling ahead: being herself, trying to stay like Giancarlo somehow, fighting the best way she knew. And heck, maybe that’s what the boneheap actually wanted from her, but… fuck that thing, too. Maybe she had to be reminded of her current position every time a dick shoved her spade open, but just the fact that Giancarlo was out there, somewhere, still available as a life that Gianna could return to… well, that was a form of reality, too, and not one that she would give up on easily. And really, all it would take was… what, a guy nutting in her a hundred more times or so? Had to be at least a bit less by then.

Which was, admittedly, still a lot, but again… fuck it. Or fuck them, rather. Fuck them all. So what if every single one of them was a reminder of the fact that she had a spade, that sex to her now meant feeling every fucking moment of them inside of her? The damn boneheap was already making her feel that way with its stupid underwear shenanigans, trying to keep the fact that she had a spade in the forefront of her mind constantly. And so what if it was succeeding? So what if she had to spend every day walking around with a gaping - sometimes literally - vulnerability between her legs? It was only there temporarily, and every dick it had to experience, awful or not, was one step closer to being male again and not having to experience that sensation ever again. She could fucking take it.

Or, at least, that’s what she told herself. And in the daytime, it was even mostly true. But the thing was, so much as her memories of Giancarlo were there, and as much as she tried as hard as she could to rehearse them and keep them intact and prominent, her memories as Gianna were much more fresh, and the ones of the things she’d had to endure were much more prominent. During the day, she could push them aside, although walking down a dark alley, or seeing a guy eyeing her with the wrong sort of look, could bring them disturbingly close to the surface. And laying in bed at night, forcing herself to try and go to sleep, it was nearly impossible to keep them from seeping through. Those moments of powerlessness, humiliation, aroused against her will, that horrible feeling of being splayed open, of that thing inside her mercilessly stoking things she didn’t want to feel, of the way it could force her to climax in the most horrible way possible, to make her display pleasure when all she wanted to do was scream… even when she could, eventually, fall asleep, those thoughts still haunted her, and make the hundred or so cocks she still had to face loom larger than ever. Any one of them had the potential to bring that hell surging back out from her memory and into her immediate reality, on a moment’s notice: any man, any time, anywhere. Demon or not, men still had instinct, desires, of the kind Giancarlo had known all too well.

Suddenly, the idea of earning points glacially with May seemed even more appealing. But May rarely wanted to go more than once per day, and with the feelings involved, Gianna wasn’t sure she could handle more than that. Go that route, though, and it would mean nearly a year more of being a woman, with all the danger that came from that.

That meant, though, that no matter how she looked at it, there was only one real option that combined getting to the challenge the fastest, and therefore suffering the least potential continual torment, and simultaneously provided the least chance of getting into a really forcible situation, assuming it was properly managed: riding her heat all the way to the bonus round. But with the boneheap continuing to fuck with the availability of her usual partners, that also meant a return to the heat club, or at least one like it. Sure, she wouldn’t make the same mistake this time of bringing Amanda or Heather along for the experience, but still… a whole lot of guys, and the possibility of things getting out of control.

What else was she going to do, though? At least she had a few days to prepare for it this time, to get herself psyched up about how to handle it, how to just let her body do its thing and keep her mind above it all, focused only on her goal. And, perhaps even more, about how to keep all that resolve from being shattered the moment she walked in the door and the mere scent of male musk forced certain things to the front of her future heat-addled thoughts…