Elara didn’t leave her apartment for three days.

She couldn’t.

Every time she tried to stand, her legs buckled. Her thighs were bruised purple from phantom claws, her pussy and ass so sore and puffy she winced with every shift on the bed. Yet the worst part wasn’t the pain.

It was the hunger.

The golden thread inside her had become a living thing, pulsing, hungry, constantly tugging at her core like an itch she couldn’t scratch without inviting him deeper. She spent the hours alternating between exhausted sleep and frantic, shameful masturbation. Her fingers, then her favorite thick dildo, then both at once nothing was enough. Every orgasm dragged...