The Runaway Breeder.

today. My straight chestnut-coloured hair is piled on top of my head into a perfect bun and the off-the-shoulder blush coloured top and high-

he werewolf nation, any wolf aged sixteen that has shifted to their wolf form is able to take on responsibility and help with furthering the success of their pack. How we are granted these chances and opportunities is at the monthly pack meeting on the first of the month. Since I had missed out on last month’s meeting due to my birthday being three days after the pack

stomed to being on four legs instead of two. I remember Chris' black wolf form towering over my blue-white fur with black-tipped paws in the warm early-spring sunlight that the month of May had to offer that day, and the annoyance I felt knowing that I still have a few more years to continue growing into my wolf form while he could easily take me down. I looked like a pup compare

ound like we were a pair of pups, I f

annoyance directed at me all the way up the stairs and down the hall to my room. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror and adjusting my shirt, I sigh, stand from my seat to

ion or event. One example of Chris' habit of being early would be just a couple of years ago when we went to the movie theatre to see the live-action remake of “Beauty and the Beast.” You can just imagine Jack and I waiting for an hour on Chris to find his wallet and car keys. He was running around the house like a chicken with its head chopped off only for the three of

es, ones that nearly cause tears to spill from mine. I did everything with my cousin Chris, who acted as a brother, a parent, and a best friend. His approval meant the world to me, especially with today bei

ten years ago. This pairing had started a bit of a rift amongst the pack when the two had found each other while on a run in the forest. I remember the excitement Chris had when he came home that night. He whisked my sleeping form out of my princess bed at ten

the air. My parents were furious with my cousin, stating that a pup needed to sleep when they caught me red-handed with half a plate full of pancakes and a chattery Chris.

lves who could produce strong pups were mated to each other. For the next few days, I remembered the pack being tense and Chris explaining that he had to sneak out at night to see his mate because our pack was trying to keep Chris and Jack apart. I was heartbroken f

the same-sex together, so who were they, the pack, to judge. With the Alpha giving Chris and Jack his blessing, more and more wolves who had admitted they had yet to find their mates soon came out as pairs. It soon became normal to see openly gay and lesbian couples around the pack, and I couldn’t help but beam with pride at how accepting my pack i

etings, special occasions and for warriors and wolves without mates to live with. If it weren’t for Chris and Jack being my family and guardians, I would have been living at the pack house long ago since my parents’ deaths. Slowly, the big mansion comes into view and the drive comes to an end wit

atch wolves my age talk to their parents one last time, wishing for once that my own had survived the rogue attack ten years ago so they could stand here and give me the advice to calm the nerves that send my heart into an unsteady rhythm. Shaking my head, I take a dee

aim for the highest position possible. Many of the females have put a lot of consideration into their attire, switching their short shorts in the summer here for conservative dresses, blouses and slacks. Only the few female

, but we all know the truth. Once you become a Breeder, you are nothing more than a slave, a tool for men to use your body for their own pleasure while they rape you into producing the next lot of pups for the pack. If you ask me, it is a barbaric way to increase the pack’s population, but the chosen she-wolves have no say in their position of a Breeder and no say in ending this barbaric job. To say that the slim

ner of the room where I can be left alone. Most people my age tend to enjoy mingling and talking to one another, but I always felt like an outcast. No one wanted to be friends with the she-wolf that los

wl -most likely spiked with some form of alcohol – that smell like a grade eight locker room where boys use Axe as a shower-in-a-can are the ones built for power. Each male wolf built with mus

regular work around the pack from cooking and cleaning to taking care of the daycare and little pups. These Omegas are what we refer to a

ions such as Pack Doctors, Nurses, Architects, builders and any task that requires in-depth schooling and specialized research and planning. We can't rely on humans to help build our community and risk exposing the werewolf race, so these

would benefit a she-wolf other than being used and taken advantage of, but I made no comment of their behaviour. I preferred working hard for the things I wanted and being independent. The idea of needing a strong male to take care of and protect me like

. Not only do they protect the Alpha, but they are also given special privileges as wolves who forsake the mate bond, intending to stay mateless for the rest of their lives just to have their pick of the Breeder populace. At any moment, they can storm into a Breeder’s home and fuck her as he pleases. Every mother war

ing her inside the pack house. Most families hope to have their pup mated to the Alpha since this will bring honour and prestige to them. Unfortunately for her, Alpha Sam has never shown any interest in the pack whores let alone a newly-shifted she-wolf like her. Her greed will not get her the position she wants. My turn to speak to him will come soon. I know the two positions I wanted: Acolyt

so carefree, and I smile at their game of tag. The scent of summer wildflowers, the dew still clinging to the pack house gardens from this morning, and the fresh aroma of pine surrounding our pack house whisks away the nauseating ste

rotest and dismay, and makes his way in my direction, specifically to where I sit in my corner. I smile at our young Alpha Sam, who, at twenty-two, has yet to find his ma

ile he focuses his attention solely on me. Excitement bubbles inside me with the possibility this brings. His scent

with me, spoiling and treating me to anything my little heart desired. I remember one time he bought me a lacy dark red dress for my twelfth birthday. It was a little revealing for my taste at the time, but I still loved the attention Sam showered

my large breasts, a smirk playing at his lips. I gasp in surprise, fe

kes my right, the grip tight enough to remind me that escape is futile as they will hunt me down. Whispers and sympathetic gazes are sent my way as the two Warriors lead me out of the building. Some she-wolves exclaim in the joy of not being chosen, while others wish me good luck even though I feel far from lucky. I can see some holding their phones, ready to capture a so

to the warriors assigned to breed you. You will welcome an unknown male into your home, lead him to the bed you sleep in each night, and spread your legs whether you want to or not. You will spend the next six months carefully observed like a rat in a lab while you carry

open, waiting to shut me inside and whisk me away from the life I know, but no one forces me into the vehicle. In moments, Chris and Jack will be informed of my position and rush over from whatever it is they are doing, with the prodding eyes of thei

obsession with time,

re

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sobbin

hase after me if I decide to run. Since this is my last free moment as a regular pack member, the guards are not allowed to listen in, much like giving a prisoner on death row their final meal before

isper, feeling Jack wipe away stray

it, and keep running.” I do not understand what Chris has said, my fuzzy mind unable to comprehend his words before I

life fades into the distance away f

lt when she was whisked away from her fami