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Home-Wrecker

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By Draconicon

"Is this, uh...uh...is this your, uh..."

"This is my stop, yes." Greta chuckled, giving the cabby the decency not to look back at the mirror he was using to peer at her tits and everything else. "You can let me out here."

"That'll..."

He was trying to look at the fare gauge, she was sure. Yet, his eyes were not moving from the mirror. She doubted that he would be able to look at anything but her for a while, all things considered. After all, it wasn't every day that someone hopped in the back of a cab and then stripped off everything but a pair of fishnet stockings, and a still rarer occasion that it was someone that had at least a small claim to fame.

She looked at the gauge herself, pulling a pre-measured fare from her discarded coat and handing it over. Forty bucks to get from the airport to this well-off neighborhood wasn't that bad a fare, really, all things considered, but it was still something that she'd be loath to pay again to get back. But she had plans for that.

The white wolf patted the possum's cheek from behind, then pushed her door open. He went almost bug-eyed as she slid from the back seat, pulling a guitar and her coat with her, and she used her hips to shut the door behind her.

"Uh, um...ma'am...do you need me to, uh...stick around?"

"Honestly, I need someone to stick it in me at the moment more than anyone to stick around, but I've got it covered." She smiled over her shoulder. "You head out. Thanks again."

"You...you're welcome..."

The cabby rolled up his window, gave her one last look, and then drove off. He almost hit a telephone pole in the process, and his tires screeched as he corrected himself. Greta shook her head in amusement, tossing her long coat over her shoulder and getting her guitar situated over her chest.

The white wolf stood out worse than a sore thumb in the old neighborhood. All around her soared houses that were bigger than they needed to be. That one, she remembered, belonged to a couple of panthers in their fifties that didn't do anything but lounge around all day, with half the upper floor converted to sunrooms for their own lazy pleasures. That one, over there, was half a greenhouse and half a reading room, a vacation home for someone that lived just down the block and wanted to have something shiny and glassy for their own display of wealth.

And the one that she stood just in front of was the most familiar of all. Old-style iron fence, manicured lawn with proud wolf horticulture evolving from feral to something hunched over to the proud, upright stature of proper anthros, and no less than three fountains on the way from the street to the front door: all of them were exactly the same as they had been that day she'd run off when she was seventeen.

Of course, she'd been wearing more clothes then, and she hadn't had her guitar yet. That was a big change, and one that she doubted that her parents were going to be happy with. The guitar, and the nudity.

Always were a pain in the ass...

Greta walked up to the gate, fumbling around for the keypad on the other side. Her parents always used the same codes, cycling through them every year for one of the others on the list. If she remembered right, this year it was -

Yep, her mother's birthday. The lock clicked open, and she pushed the gate open. There were probably already phone calls coming from some house or another down the lane, some concerned neighbor or other telling her mother or father that some 'street girl' had invaded their property and that they better call the cops. She smirked, running her hand along her guitar. She almost wished they would.

They wouldn't, though. There was a reputation to uphold, and the idea of their long-lost daughter being seen like this...well, they wouldn't want that.

Greta paused halfway between the gate and the front door to pull herself onto the lip of the central fountain, her toes curling to get some purchase on the stone below. She stood with her legs spread, showing off her nudity, and more, the part between her legs that her parents had always been so keen to keep hidden. She reached down with the hand not holding the guitar neck, pushing on either side of the puffy, feral sex she had.

_Don't touch that, Greta. That's dirty.

Is there any chance we can get that altered, doctor?

You should try those creams, Greta. You might look normal one of these days, if you did.

No-one will ever want that, dear. At least we won't have to worry about you getting knocked up.

Let's get her spayed; we don't want her passing those throwback genes on._

Many things had been said during the seventeen years that she had spent with her family. That little 'quest' of Gus's had never been about the guitars for her; it had always been about giving her a reason to get the hell out. She'd barely needed it; she just needed his van and the chance to get out of here before it got worse.

Ten years later, she was back. And she was going to show them some of the things that she'd learned.

She gave them a full five minutes to see her standing there, naked. She gave them the chance to come out and say something, to make good, or even to shout at her and tell her to put some clothes on. It wouldn't have mattered at that point just what they said, as long as they actually acknowledged her.

But they didn't, and that took away any bad feelings about going further. That, and the heat between her legs that she'd been studiously ignoring since she'd arrived at the airport. Her meds were just on the verge of wearing off - probably about ten minutes from being useless, far as she could tell - and that would take care of any residual 'should I really' questions.

Heh, what are the neighbors saying? she wondered, pulling at two of the tuner handles at the top of the guitar. That some street mongrel has come over and might piss in their fountains? Or that some girl that looks familiar is out on their lawns? Or are they remembering me more than that?

It didn't matter. At the end of the day, there was a white wolf bitch on their fountains, one dressed in nothing more than fishnet stockings with a coat thrown down in front of her. A wolf bitch that had piercings that ran through her nipples in a cross-bones design, with three stud piercings through her right ear, and one more through her tongue. A white wolf bitch with a guitar that was heavy enough that she could have used it as a cudgel, which had enough pull on the strings that it would put a bowman to shame, and who had a piercing going straight through her clit hood with a chain that ran down to her toes, just about to change their lives forever.

Satisfied at the pull on the strings, she raised her hand and brought it down. A loud STRUUUUUM echoed out, as if she had amps set up and turned to an eleven. The grass blew out in shimmering waves from where she stood, and the fountain ahead flared with water that was blown away as if from hurricane winds. It hit the front of the stone-walled house with a needling slap.

"I'm home!" she shouted.

She saw shadows running between the windows then, saw them rushing from their hiding places. To the front door? Maybe, but they'd wasted their chance to keep this quiet. Greta raised her hand and brought it down again, making the strings wail a new song.

"_Home, home once again

Home and the hell that it is

Raising the shame

Like you raised the pain

And bringing it all down again!_ "

The air rippled as she strummed out chords of power, and by the time that the door slammed open, the sheer strength of her music was enough to blow the white wolves on the other side off their feet. They stumbled backwards, grabbing the doorway as they struggled to keep from being blown down the hallway, all while Greta strutted towards them.

She saw them, then. The familiar half-moon spectacles on her father's face, the well-groomed, long fur that he was so proud of blown back across his face matched well with her mother's proper gown all but being blown off her body. She strutted toward them, strumming the guitar as its power boosted the strength of her song, and the volume, too. She kept improvising lyrics as she advanced.

"_Hide, hide it away

Until you no longer can

Then shatter the cage

And turn up the rage

And bring it all down again._ "

The house groaned as she played with reality, sending shivers through its foundation. Ghosts, shimmering silhouettes appeared. A young wolf girl running through the house, only to be stopped by an older one, her wrist gripped tight enough to nearly shatter bone before being slapped on the nose no less than five times, sometimes many more. A kid kicking off her shoes, only to be taken back and spanked for running barefoot through the house. A teen force-marched to the bathroom, her pants left behind as two older wolves lectured her on her inferiority for what she had down there.

She reached the front porch, her parents staring at her in mixed shock, fear, and residual disgust. Their lips jiggled from the sheer force of the wind blowing past them, and she grinned as she pulled one more strain.

"_Bring it down,

Bring it down,

For the pain's come back again

No longer taking

Just come back for breaking

To bring it all down...again._ "

And with one last chord, she slammed her hand down the strings and sent her parents toppling head over heels. They fell back from the front door, the silhouettes disappeared, and Greta stepped through into the entry hall. Shutting the door, she pulled the locks closed, and then turned to the mirror at her side.

"Yep...still looking good," she muttered, giving herself a once-over. "Gotta say, a good sweat makes the fur shine."

Running her fingers through the shaggier fur around her neck, she puffed it out and then ran it back. The guitar was always hard work, even for short pieces, and it had given her a little sheen around the face, chest, and stomach. She ruffled it out, then tweaked her nipples slightly, adjusting the cross-bars that formed an x-shape through them. The black flesh stood out from her white fur quite well, making it hard to miss it.

She turned, smiling at the way that the chain hanging down from her clit piercing flung itself around, dragging along her lower leg and then flopping between her feet. Bare feet, for that matter, tracking a little sweat and dust along their immaculate carpets. She ground it in, a bit of petty revenge for all their fancy-schmancy ways.

"Nnngh..."

She stopped admiring herself - and resisted the urge to run her hands over the more hidden nipples along her belly - to turn back to her parents. They were just getting to their feet, looking back at her with barely-disguised anger. She met their stare without fear, cocking her head to the side at the couple in their late forties.

"Well, mom, dad. Your daughter's back."

They didn't say anything, though she could imagine some of the things that they wanted to say. Critiques about how she was naked, how she was flaunting that 'thing' between her legs, how dare she get piercings, how dare this, how dare that. The number of things that they probably wanted to rip her apart over had to be massive, which was part of the fun. They couldn't pick just one to get started on.

They were just as she remembered, too. They'd been in their late thirties when she ran away, and ten years had not done anything to change them. Her mother wore a fancy green-white dress that made her look more sophisticated than she was. She had gotten her lips modified, too, adjusting the black line along her face so that it was properly wolf-ish, but not so fat or dragged down as age should have done to a muzzle. It also lacked that feral trait that some older members of the family had, where their fangs could be seen more easily. It had been delicately folded to hide them, to look more...'proper.'

Her father, on the other hand, had obviously just come back from work, still wearing his suit and tie rather than the house-garments that he sometimes put on. Not that they were any less ostentatious. His spectacles had almost been blown off by the power of the musical storm she'd raised, and only the gold chains that wrapped around his neck and attached to them kept them from doing just that.

Before they could find something that they could agree on to rip her apart with, Greta held up a finger.

"Shush. I'm not here to listen to you again."

"You - you ungrateful - you think that - and those -"

If it wasn't for the memories, her mother's disconnected diatribe would have been almost funny. As it stood, Greta remembered too well the way that she had been put down, how every day had been a reminder of how she was a 'throwback', how she was looked at as a failure of breeding on some side or another of the family. She shook her head, bringing her hand down with another strum.

The wha-wha-whiiiiii of the guitar echoing through the hall silenced them, making their eyes go funny and hazy. She brought her hands to her hips.

"I told you. I'm not here to listen to you. You're here to listen to me. I've been thinking about this for a long, long time, and I got something to say to you. So, let's go to the parlor, shall we?"

The barefoot, naked wolf led the way, shoving between her parents. A moment later, the two older canines followed. She could hear them muttering, her father suggesting calling the police, her mother hissing and forbidding it. Good. She'd have them all to herself.

The parlor was just as she remembered it. Wood-paneled walls, soft-brown carpet that was too deep to ever keep clean without a maid, hunting 'trophies' that had never been actually hunted down but just purchased from taxonomists, books that were never touched but only displayed, all surrounding a couch, an armchair, and a taller armchair that faced the fireplace on the far wall: it was as familiar as it was haunting, and for a moment, there was a ghost of a young girl held near the fireplace, with the ghosts of her parents pinning her there and holding a poker towards her, threatening to burn the feralness from her.

Then the moment passed, and she grabbed the larger armchair, turning it around to face the couch. She sat with her legs spread, not even bothering to hide anything. Her mother glared at her, her father looked up and away, and once more, it reminded her why she was there.

"Sit down," she said, pointing at the couch.

"Cover yourself, or we'll -"

She reached for the guitar, and they moved. For all their pride as wolves, they were fearful of her, now. There was none of the courage that real wolves had, just the imitation of it. They had bred out everything but the pride that they cared for, and everything else was left by the wayside.

She pulled the guitar off her chest, laying it against the side of the chair. Easier that way; at least then, she didn't have to deal with its weight on her chest constantly.

"Now, mom, dad, we're gonna have a little game today."

Her mom opened her mouth, only for her father to hush the other woman. The older male looked down at her, or at least, tried to. He didn't have the same looming presence that he'd had when she was a pup.

"You came all this way, after ten years, to play a game? That's beneath you."

"Heh, maybe, but so was what you did to a little girl for seventeen years."

"We were attending the bloodline."

"You finally had a real wolf daughter, and you wanted her to be nothing but a tame hound."

"What do you want?" he asked, ignoring the accusation, as always. "You came here...like this...What point does this serve?"

"Heh...glad you asked."

Greta reached down, pulling her chain off the floor, twirling it the way that some bored young thing might have done with a toy, a pair of glasses, something to idly play with while they were talking. Of course, the movements pulled at her clit every time, teasing it, and it didn't take long for her puffy cookie of a canine pussy to start getting damp from the stimulation. Not enough to change how she talked, but enough for her to feel it. Enough for them to see it.

"You see, you've always looked down on me. I had to go through a hell of a lot to get around that. Hell of a lot. And I'm still not anywhere near done with making myself better. And a lot of that came from all that hate you had for me being a 'throwback.'"

"You are," her mother growled. "You flaunt it. How can you not be ashamed of that...thing?!"

"Heh. That thing is better than the sad excuse for a cunt that birthed me, mom."

That word got the same reaction that it always did, minus the sudden reach for the nearest blunt object. Her mother's eyes went wide, her father's face went angry-red, and they sputtered at the crudeness. So proud, yet so stupid when it came to what wolves really were.

We're hunters. We're animals. We're fucking beasts. You really think that you can take the wolf out of the forest without changing them?

Her parents were perfect examples of what they became when they tried to breed out the 'bad' traits. She continued to sit with her pussy on display, sliding forward, slouching like a lazy wolf might have done. With that posture, one could just see her pucker, too, something that she had practiced in front of a mirror many times so that she could be sure that this pose showed off everything that she wanted.

"You wanted a perfect show-pup, guys. And you were never gonna get it. I'm a wolf."

"No. We are wolves. You are a dirty - no, filthy little thing, and I don't know how you were ever born out of our genes," her mother said.

"She's right, Greta. We tried to at least teach you the nobility of pack, of fine manners, of proper behavior, but...it obviously failed."

"Or, heh, you failed yourselves, and I'm the success." Greta smiled. "And that's why I'm here. To prove something."

"And what's that?" her father asked.

"Simple. You think that you're the real wolf, and I'm the throwback. I think that I'm the real thing, and you're the purebred assholes that are fooling yourself for the public. So...in about a minute, the heat-blockers that I've been taking are going to wear off." The older wolves' eyes went wide. "Uh-huh. That smell right now is me filtered. Filtered hard. So, let's put it to the test. If I break before you guys do, then it looks like your discipline, your 'nobility', is stronger than the wild side. But if you break first, then we'll know what really matters...and who's better."

"That...that proves nothing!" her father said.

"He would never be tempted by some...some feral piece of flesh," her mother said, her face burning pink.

"Notice that you don't say that you aren't tempted, mom," Greta said, chuckling. "Then again, it's not just one hole that's feral."

Or one part. The extra nipples, the sharp teeth, the sharper ears. Hell, she wouldn't have minded having the more feral legs, rather than sharing the humanoid, plantigrade feet that her family had bred into their line. But the obvious things were between her legs, from the triangular spade of a canine pussy to the puffy, protruding hole of a canine anus. Nobody would have seen them with her clothes on, but ever since she could remember, they had been on her to never allow anyone to know, to behave more prissy and prim, and every little mistake was followed with punishment.

The heat-blockers had come well before her first heat, and until a few years ago, she hadn't bothered to question that. Today, she was ready to show them just how it changed things.

"Tick tock, tick tock," she said, chuckling.

Her mother and father had a split second to stare at each other in shock, but then the moment to react passed. Even as they tried to get to their feet, to do something - what, she had no idea - the heat-blockers finally went off, and when they did, they went off fast. Unlike pain medication that slowly went down, these were either working, or they were not.

And now, they were most definitely not. The already-damp folds between her legs suddenly drenched, and she moaned, rolling her hips upward for a moment, so far that her ass left the chair before coming back down. She squirted a sudden blast of it across the room, ruining part of the carpet. The first squirt was just her arousal. The second was like a feral wolf marking her territory, smearing her scent across the carpet and all the way to the couch.

Her parents gasped, trying to flinch away, but they were both flecked with it along their legs, along her skirt and his pants. The smell was already rising through the air, getting stronger by the second, and the smell of horny, needy wolf-bitch was not something that anyone could just ignore. Greta forced her hips back down, grinning at them as she felt the clenching, painful cramps mixed with sensual internal grinding. It was a hell of a lot stronger than the last time that she'd done this; the working up might have been responsible for that.

And it had the effect of already starting to pull her father's cock up. Greta smirked, nodding at the fast-rising bulge in the white wolf's pants.

"Heh, looks like daddy's got a thing for a bitch that's actually hot for it," she said. "When's the last time that mom smelled like this, huh?"

"None...none of your...business..."

It was going about how she expected for her dad. His eyes were glazing over and his boner was getting stiffer by the second. It had none of those canine features that she had come to appreciate from other lovers, a mere humanoid shaft that had nothing to recommend it other than a little bit of heft and size. She stood up, feeling her juices all but drooling from between her legs, puddling down in a long silver string to the floor. She spread her legs further, running her chain between them, dragging at the folds.

Her dad's cock jumped, spitting pre-cum in his pants. His claws dug into the chair, showing just how affected he was...and he wasn't the only one.

Greta stepped across the room, smirking at her red-faced, whimpering mother. She stood before the older bitch, lifting one leg, hiking it up until she could rest her clawed toes on the arm-rest. She marked her territory there, dust and sweat from her toes staining the fabric, the constant shimmer from her sex running down her thigh, some bits of it clenched and squirted out on her mother's lap.

"What do you think, mom? Ever been this riled up?"

"Nnngh..."

"I know for a fact that you aren't this fertile anymore," she said, running a hand along her sex, pushing them in between the black flesh, before pulling them out as wet as could be. "Look what my heat does to me...bet you that you don't even get warm anymore. I'll be like this for the rest of my life...a hot bitch..."

"Get...that..."

"Get what, mom? You want a smell?"

She held her hand out, and her mother breathed in without thinking. The older bitch gasped, her eyes going wide, and - yes, there they were. Little nipple bumps of arousal, standing out right then and there. Greta laughed, dragging her hand down, pinching one and pulling the other. Her mother didn't fight her as she turned, going back to the fireplace, her teasing keeping her mind off her own needs.

As she swayed her tail, her clit chain dragged on the floor, making a rasping sound as she reached the stone by the fireplace. She swayed her hips from side to side, the dragging sound of metal on stone making it all the more apparent what she was offering. A chance to go on the wild side. A chance to really indulge. A chance to see what they had been missing by breeding so much of the potency from their line.

She looked over her shoulder. Was it bad to do incest? Probably; even wolves sometimes looked down on that. But was it good to humiliate her parents with what they really wanted, deep down in their vaunted genes?

Fuck yes. It was good.

Her mother, if she'd been this heated, might have reached back and spread a simple pair of lips. That wasn't possible for someone with her genitalia, with her anatomy. A canine flagged her tail, showed off, and then made it very clear what was expected. She clenched, forcing a small flood of her juices out, feeling it spread like slime on the stone beneath her, running against her feet and leaving her scent spreading through the parlor.

Her father's hand moved to his cock, squeezing it through his pants. He couldn't stop himself, but neither could her mother. She was panting, shivering, her hands gripping at her thighs. Her dress had been pulled up against her crotch, and it had been slimed from inside, clinging to her.

"Heh...such bad dogs..."

"Nnngh...watch...watch your tongue, Greta..." mom said.

"You watch yours. Better yet, get over here and shove it in me, like you clearly want to. Dad could use a little lube before he fucks me."

"Nnngh...you...you..."

"Or, hey, Dad. Maybe you better come here first. Mom's gonna need something to lick clean. You never had a real bitch; come see what a real one feels like."

That broke him. In a blur that surprised her, he leaped from the couch. His pants must have fallen off in the process, because one moment he had them on, the next, she had that - somewhat pathetic - shaft rubbing between her legs, trying to find her pussy and slam in. He humped like a dog, not a wolf, and she had to reach down and push his shaft up to the right angle for penetration.

Then he got going, and things moved fast after that.

_"That's it. In me. All the way in me."

He put it in, alright, ramming it in as deep as he could go. He went stiff almost immediately, his eyes wide, his hips twitching as she showed him what she could do. Stiff cock, well-controlled muscles: it was a perfect match._

She had more control than anybody with a 'normal' pussy, with better understanding of what went into her. She was tighter, wetter, HOTTER, and she could feel him whimpering as she pushed back against him.

"Better than mom, isn't it?"

"Nnngh..."

"Better than her. Say it. I know you feel it. You're harder than you ever were with her, aren't you?"

"Nnngh...y-yes...fuck..."

The other bitch's eyes widened, her mouth hanging open. She stumbled from the couch, trying to get up and leave, but all she did was go to all fours. Greta grinned, already having plans for her mom. For now, though, she squeezed, pulling her dad deeper.

"Keep fucking. Show mom who's hotter..."

He lasted for five minutes in her, but all it took was his nose against her spade to get him up again. Greta shoved him against the couch, forcing him down on it, and she ground her pussy against him. No clear channel for him to just slip between, but that was fine. Wild, feral pheromones had him harder than he needed to be, and his brain was probably frying.

Her mother, however, was just staring. Greta grinned, pulling her chain around. The older bitch was close enough that she could just use it like a leash, pulling the 'tame' wolf in. Before her mom realized it, Greta had the older woman shoved nose-deep against her asshole.

"Get licking."

She reinforced that command by lifting her hips and pulling her dad's cock back into her pussy, dragging it in balls-deep. The whole thing throbbed as she teased it, dark flesh already stained with his previous orgasm, but her juices, her pheromones, were what filled the room. She had taken control, and nobody could deny that she'd marked her property.

The first lick came, dragging across the raised ridge of her anus, and she grinned as she pulled her mother's head further down, dragging the chain all around her hips to keep the older woman in place. This was not going to be the last thing that she made them do.

Her father panted, falling to her feet, drained of three orgasms. He was still hard, but had no stamina left to take care of a bitch without her doing all the work. She pinned him underfoot, having him put that old, careless, sharp tongue to work licking it clean. Her mother, on the other hand...

She pulled out the collar that they'd always kept under the cushions in the parlor, another humiliating punishment. They made her wear it as a reminder that she had to be controlled, that she was too wild for proper canines. Now, she made her mother wear it, and used her clit chain as a leash, pulling her in and making her lick out the creampies that her father had left behind.

"That's it. This is the taste of what you could have been. The wolf that you should have been," Greta grunted as she felt her mother's tongue digging into her, seeking out every single glob of cum inside. "Go on...get it...get it out. Unless you want dad to leave me with pups, heh."

Her mother licked further, deeper, her cold black nose grinding against Greta's clit from time to time. Her father's tongue mindlessly licked over her foot, cleaning the dark underside of the dust and sweat she'd built up.

"Heh...I was never the one that needed a leash. You two...you just needed an alpha to run the pack..."

Her mother didn't deny it, and she might have just cum from that, hands-free. The older woman was still dressed, so it was hard to tell.

Time to take that comfort from her.

Hours passed, eventually leading to the moon rising. Greta had put her parents through the wringer over that time, leaving them both shattered, and had taken more than a little pleasure in reminding them that they were this riled up for a 'throwback,' for someone that they had wanted to get spayed, someone that they had threatened time and time again for being less than them.

Maybe she wasn't so civilized, but she was sure as hell better than they were.

The white wolf rolled herself off the couch, dragging her ass from her mother's greedy tongue and her stained soles from her father's finally drained dick. She squelched as she walked along, grabbing her guitar, throwing the strap over her shoulder as she looked back at them. They were completely drained, barely awake, but they were both dripping in one way or another from her scent and what they'd done.

She'd probably feel some shame when the heat wore off. Not much, though; this had been a long time coming.

"Alpha tax," Greta said, reaching for her mother's purse on the mantel and pulling $60 from it. "I'm leaving now. The two of you want to be civil?" She flicked a business card, one with her naked on it and strumming the guitar. "Here's my cell. Gimme a call; maybe I can be persuaded to give the pair of you a pity fuck if you really need it again."

She left the house after that, making her way out. She hopped the fence, pulling her phone from the inside of her coat pocket - the coat had been left alone for all the time she'd been inside - and dialed the possum that had driven her here. Maybe a second, private performance might be arranged on the way back.

The End

Summary: Greta goes home to settle some things with her parents.

Tags: M/F, F/F, Bondage, Chain, Piercing, Wolf, Incest, Mother/Daughter, Father/Daughter, Humiliation, Feral Parts, Feral Anatomy, Anatomically Correct, Foot Fetish, Rimming, Vaginal, Heat, Revenge, Orgasm, Cum, Squirt, Musk, Pheromones,