Breeding Mga Nobela at Kwento

A mate? “Now, James, don’t do anything you’ll regret later. You’re angry over a misunderstanding. You know I’m not what you want. It’s just you’re pissed because you didn’t start the war. You’re regret doing anything like that with me. What will you do when you meet your fated mate and it gets all complicated?” Breeders only worked well if the fated mate was dead. Otherwise, there was jealousy and possessiveness that interfered. Everyone suffered with that for generations.

Even as chosen mates, you could still recognize your fated mate when you met – although I’d heard a couple of people tell me it wasn’t as intense as it was described with fated mates. Not that I could judge – besides knowing that I’d already met my mate, I couldn’t even remember what it felt like… “Even with all of that there’s still no guarantee that it will increase the birthrate,” Rhea pointed out, surprising me. “That was the whole point of the Breeding Program, right? To produce more ranked wolves?”

“Welcome to the Breeding Festival. Ten chosen vessels. Five elite breeders. The women will compete in trials of endurance, submission, and fertility. The ultimate winner will be publicly bred by all five champions — claimed, filled, and honored as the Festival Queen.” Serena’s thighs pressed together. She was already wet. The first trial began immediately. The women were told to stand in a line, robes open at the front. Five masked men — the elite breeders — walked along the line, inspecting each woman. They squeezed breasts, fingered pussies, tested how quickly each woman became soaked. When the tallest, most commanding breeder reached Serena, he pushed two t

“Not slowly, not some theory the council writes papers about. Two breeders came before you. Neither made it past three months. Without an heir, in five years this territory gets carved up by whoever moves fastest to take it.” The room felt colder. “What does that have to do with me?” Rysen answered, gentler than his brother but no less direct. “The clause called you an anomaly because you’re unranked. Unshifted at nineteen. Failed every test they gave you. That’s not supposed to be possible. No wolf should mean no markers at all. But the old texts talk about a fertility line that reads as nothing right up until it isn’t.” “You think I’m one of those bloodlines,” I said. The pieces slid toget

Breed. It was a code as old as time. A natural process for Alphas whenever they copulated. The urge to fill up my partner with my pups till they were round and full, my perfect little breeder, was irresistible. I slapped Reed's ass, making him moan and tighten around me. My fingers digged into his hips, leaving crescent moons as I fucked him harder, my teeth closing around his neck, chewing on the delicate skin.

Still, most of the Hegemony's citizens clung to the traditional ways, concerned lest the free breeder chaos visible on planets such as Earth being their carefully planned society to its knees. Ishimoto-Seven looked up as horns blared and cabbies gestured at each other through open windows, street-level traffic had been banned more than a hundred year before, and a good thing too, since there was barely enough room to move. All because of free breeding sex. My people are correct, Ishimoto thought to himself. That's why it was so important to maintain the status quo, to put limits on what the free breeders could do, and protect the Hegemony.

"Ezra..." In the dream, I pushed in, thrusting deep and filled him. Bred him. Pumped my seed inside until it dripped out. Marked him. Owned him. His body shook under me. Hands clawing the sheets. But he pushed back—fuck, he pushed back wanting more. I wanted to break him. In the dream. In real life. Bend him until he knelt. Breed him until he worshipped and called me god. I stroked harder, my fist tight and balls drawing up. I imagined pinning him down, spreading his legs wide and fucking him raw. Until he bled. Until he cried. Until he begged for my cum. "Breed me," he'd say. "Make me yours."

She dropped her eyes back to the page. "Frequency of coupling shall be determined by the Sire based on the Designate's fertile windows, not to exceed once per day during non-fertile periods." Her voice went flat. This was unbelievable. "The Designate acknowledges that her primary value to the pack lies in her primal gene and her ability to produce heirs of sufficient magical potency." She stopped reading. Her hands were shaking, she pressed the page against her thigh to still them. "That's enough." she said. This was absurd, she couldn't keep reading.

He leaned back against the wooden porch railing and crossed his arms, exchanging a loaded look with his brothers before turning his gaze back to me. "Actually, the reason you were brought here wasn't just to be a bride." I looked up from my boots, letting the cold wind bite my cheek. I didn't understand the math. Brides were for political alliances. Maids were for manual labor. There wasn't a third option. Certainly not for an Omega built like me. What else could I possibly be here for if not any of those? Kenzo let the heavy silence stretch out for one long, agonizing second. "You were sent here to be a breeder."

His eyes widened as I pressed him into the stone, my grip vice-like, my eyes burning. “I will only ever have one breeder,” I growled, voice low, guttural, every word a drop of venom. He blinked rapidly, confused, his pupils darting. “W-what?” he stammered. I shoved him again for good measure, my other hand fisting the front of his shirt. “One. And her name is Aria,” I spat. “She’s not just some breeder. She’s my life.” Danil’s lips parted like he couldn’t process the information fast enough.