Picture this:
You have just inhaled a clump of Feral Times powder nasally, giving even cocaine a run for its money. In the process of shifting and morphing into a feral canine, your teenage daughter enters the same room you're in, curiously pondering at where all the freaking noise is coming from. Half-blinded by an animalistic fury, you lower yourself down to your haunches and growl softly, apt to pounce, to lash out and attack and nibble and lick her to death. No harm, though. Why? Somehow, you still recognize her to be your relative, your direct descendant, your beloved daughter, your flesh and blood, your pride and joy, your heart and soul. None of that matters now though. Not when you're on the ground, writhing and yipping, fighting for shreds of breath while growing radically adjusted to your new body type, crooked and ultimately dog-like. She tours through the room looking for her father (or at the very least the source of the loud clashing noise), positively unaware that you have transformed into a big goddam dire timberwolf and are now positioned in a dark corner, watching her every move, advancing onward, inching closer, biding your time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. She kneels down to check under a large queen-size bed, stripped of all its sheets. She's wearing a short blue plaid skirt with a thin blazer top and striped thigh-high leggings. No panties. You know this thanks to her smell. The potent vibrancy, the rich aroma of her youth, her feminine puberty at work, her reproductive pheromones raging onward in your nostrils, causing your knotted penis to twitch and stiffen. You approach her from behind, watching as she clenches down hard on the barren pee-stained mattress, aged from years of use and abuse, peeking underneath the boxspring for any abnormalities. 
You are sick of waiting. The divource couldn't pull through quicker. She has been teasing you long enough, especially around your bitch of a wife. Your raw feral urges take the reigns to your every move, compromising your thoughts and actions, rendering you into a lovesick horny puppy-doggy, apt to mate with anything that moves.
Including your fifteen-year-old wolfess daughter.
You woof softly from the darkened corner of the room and she sits upright, ears perked and rotating, wondering where that sound came from, certainly not from under her daddy's bed, no, that'd be far too convenient. Before she had a moment to observe her surroundings, you have already poked your snout against her cleft of Venus and began to lick at her sensitive, swollen vaginal region. She gasps and shrieks in reaction, frightened by the advance of such a large and hellacious timberwolf. She wonders for a brief panicked moment if the dog she's being rimmed by didn't happen to eat her father. A moment persists for but a brief flash of a second before dissipating into nothingness, a solemn suggestion, a query of concern, all but forgotten. She knows, somehow, that you are her dad. She recognizes the pattern in which you lick at her moist tingling pussy. 
She recalls the method as clearly as the night in which you first entered her room and molested her, half-asleep and dazed, with your finger-paws before finally breaking down and slipping your knotted penis into her anus. After finishing off with a hefty cumshot in her tight young virgin tailhole, you pull out freely and slide yourself down beneath her bedsheets to lick at her moisture-tinted seafood-scented cunt, so young yet already so lewd. You taste yourself interspersed among her juices and your heart leaps to a bounding pace, numbers right off the rate-chart. You congratulate her on being a good girl and leave her room to allow her to bask in the glow of her father's semen. Come the next morning, she returns the compliment with a quickie blowjob. She has to be quiet, so as not to disturb mother, who's sleeping right next to you, soft as a psalm and meek as a lamb. Your underage wolfess daughter, so beatiful and pure of spirit, deepthroats your shaft and swallows the tip of your dog-cock, licking at your testicles and vascular tube. You orgasm into her mouth and she fingers herself into a delirium of squirting climax, dousing your pajama bottoms with her seminal fluids. Her fluids, sticky and warm, scented like vanilla and lavender and chocolate-coated cherries, give you a most explosive shower climax before work that morning. Its that very same climax that causes your marriage to capsize and blow up into a fuck-all catastrophe. 
But these thoughts don't impede upon your senses now. Not when you've become a feral dog. All thought and responsibility is thrust out of your mind. The only priority, the only determined goal, your calling in life is now getting a chance to mount and fuck your pretty young daughter into an orgasmic daze. You hope she can take your knot, since you've grown so much bigger than intended. Much to your fond surprise and delight, she handles your dick quite well. Evidently, she's been practicing. Perhaps with carrots carved into the shape of a knotted dog's penis, perhaps with special sex toys manufatured and sculpted to represent the shape of a dog-cock. Either way, she's no stranger to interspecies erotica. She spreads her whore legs wide and lets her skirt slip up her hips, revealing her lack of panties and morality. She wiggles her fuzzy butt at you, tail raised, exposing a juicy slit of pink soft vaginal flesh, spread wide and ripe for the taking. She begs to be fucked hard by her daddy, her big dog daddy. You can barely understand what she's saying since English has become less than ideal to your comprehending mind, but you acknowledge her pose, her wanton desire, her lusty proposition. You can dig her vibes, truly. As she giggles and pants, you leap upon her backside and thrust yourself into her pussy. She winces and clenches her jaw down hard, teeth exposed and grating, tears leaking freely from the corners of her eyelids. Hump after hump causes you to slide and slip freely into your daughter with a swift ease of access. She reaches back and grabs hold of your wolf hips, pinning you against her backside, holding herself up by her knees and shins alone, tongue jutted out and eyes rolled back into her head, definitively aroused by her dad's throbbing rock-hard member inserting repeatedly into her deepest coral-hued chasms. She presses her face down upon your bedroom's carpeting and screams for more, she screams for her daddy to fuck her harder, she screams for his dick, she screams aloud that she wants his puppies so bad it fucking hurts. She screams and wails and yelps and howls and as she endures her own climax, her pussy-muscles clench and contract tightly around your knotted dog shaft, forcing you to brace down hard and fuck her rough. Your violent intercourse illuminates her soul, forcing your daughter to speak in a language you've never heard before. French? Italian? Tagalog? Doesn't matter either way because you are roughly ten thrusts shy of enduring your own explosive jizz-off. Is this what she wanted all along? No, its what you wanted along, but she doesn't mind either way because she's a loyal daughter. A respectful, obedient and ultimately loving daughter. A young wolfess who would never break strides with her daddy, no matter how dire the circumstances may become. She would stay by her father's side until the bitter end, no matter what. As if to spite the foul bitch, your wife enters the bedroom, drawn in by the strange muffled sounds of moaning. When she sees her daughter on the ground getting shagged hard by a big timberwolf, she screams and shouts. She is on the verge of retrieving the pistol from the broom closet to put this defiling dog out of its misery and rescue her poor underaged daughter, radically violated and raped by the filthy mutt, unaware that she's on the verge of blowing her own soon-to-be-ex-husband's brains out all over the bedroom carpeting. As she's wrestling to remove the gun purchased by her husband as a means of independent safety, you beat her to the punch and nudge her down to the floor, causing her to land against a corner-edge of a nearby wall, knocked abysmally unconscious. Blood begins to trickle lightly from above her brow, near her temple, as she murmurs something aloud before winding down into unconsciousness. You think she said "go fuck yourself", but it might have just as easily been "go fuck her, hon". As you leave from the broom closet and walk down the hallway back to your bedroom, your daughter stumbles out into the hall, completely nude, long amber-colored hair swaying in tangles before her face, tail fluffy and jerking. She's fingering at her vagina, fidgeting with her labia folds, flicking at her clitoris, poking at her mons and taint. She runs up to you and presses her pussy against your muzzle, hoping to get licked out some more, totally unaware that her mother is knocked out in a daze, lying in the broom closet, shovel within her hand-pawed grasp. In response, you open your maw and begin to lap at her pussy with long, sustained licks. You tongue at her pussy, her tailhole, her inner thighs and belly. She moans as she receives a tongue-full of straight foreplay. Before too long she's given into the pleasure, lying on her back, legs spread, squeezing at a breast, pinching a nipple, begging her daddy to fuck her raw like the filthy slut she is. You heed the call and penetrate her in a missionary position, slamming your dick into her snare-tight wolfess vagina, breathing hot and heavy. While you are fucking the daylights out of your daughter, you crane your head down beneath her neck and chomp at one of her tits, nibbling a nipple, licking an areola. She gasps and pants aloud, caressing your head, rubbing your ears, wrapping her legs tighter around your waist and refusing to loosen her grip. You are enamored in the illicit waves of her distinct pleasure as you continue to prod yourself into her fleshy folds. You look down into her eyes and see that she's on the verge of climaxing again, more explosive than ever. You opt to share the feeling mutually, refusing to let her experience an orgasm alone. As she grips the rugged fluff of your neck-fur and arches her back, you finally slip your bulbous knot into her pussy and thrust violently into her, squirting countless ropes of wolf-sperm into her womb, prodding at her cervix, violating her uterus. She licks her nose and bites at her lower lip, combing her hand-paws up and down her dad's back, beyond satisfied at his determination to impregnate his own daughter. She looks up and kisses your muzzle, telling you how much she loves you and that she'd rather die than be taken away from you. You shift and morph back into your anthropomorphic self shortly after enduring your own incestuous orgasm. Lying on the floor with her, your beautiful child, your young lady, inexperienced in clubs, prom, sleepovers, makeout sessions, you make a pact. That nobody shall come between you and her, even in death. You kiss her forehead and hug her close, keeping her warm and cozy, apt to engage in another round of anthro-on-feral intercourse soon. Hopefully your Feral Times supply hasn't dwindled any.