Stories Gone Wild Novels & Stories

THE WORLD OF "FORBIDDEN MATE" Someone once asked me about the world setting of the story since they saw elements of modern and mediaeval worlds in the story. This is your answer, dear: In Story 1, the setting and world are a blend of supernatural elements and modern-day life. The narrative features caves and packs, which are key components of the werewolf culture. These caves serve as communal spaces and dens for rebel groups, where they hold meetings, make important decisions, and discuss their strategies. The packs, as you already know, represent a strong sense of community and hierarchy.

She looked around at the pack, her heart swelling with pride as she took in the sight of their family—the community they had built from the ashes of pain and loss. Kael stirred, his silver eyes blinking sleepily as he looked up at his father. “Tell us a story, Papa,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with trust. Alec’s gaze softened, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his son’s face. “What kind of story, Kael?” “A story about you and Mama,” Lila chimed in, her golden eyes wide with curiosity. “About how you fought the bad wolf and saved the pack.”

Her trembling voice is wobbly and a little indistinct, unstable, and stutter-like. My mother was raped right in front of my eyes, while my father's two wrists were chained and two creatures were pulling on each other until his arms were entirely cut off. Then they cut off his head in front of my mother, who was being raped at the time. I hid inside the cupboard and was fortunately not discovered. "They're wicked, terribly harsh..." she said, pausing for a moment and a tears escaped her eyes. "They impregnated as many women as they could. They had the women impregnated, which is known to be extremely forbidden. The lycans are who they are. The sexual appetite of these lycans was known to over

Wolves are mysterious, they have different sides and in every aspect you can see a reflection of the truth of the emotion that humans have forgotten and they don't have an idea of what they have become… Not a human nor a creature just an empty shell who's driven by a devil of polluted thoughts and the pollutants are - greed, lust, envy, sloth, pride, gluttony, and wrath… That night was darker than my black beard, and that kid was alone there in that jungle. The bushes and the wild plants were toxic enough to suffocate the environment but the kid was not an ordinary. He was special and the environment got suffocated for a while but not for the kid but the toxic plants and the bushes of red ka

Birdy nodded in agreement, "It is time for the ghost stories to begin and be spread. Stories of a pack of wolves that live nowhere but everywhere, who rescue the weak, broken, and unchampioned, taking those they rescue away with them and disappearing with no clues to who they are or where they came from." ​Three gods and one vampire nodded in agreement. "Let the fun begin. Go lay the groundwork to make the stories true when our wolves awake," Hyperion ordered. ​Cronos snickered, "This is going to be so much fun. I am glad Gaia is letting me loose to help lend credence to the stories." ​"What good are the stories without those needed to make them come true?" Bob wondered out loud.

"Then how do you know what she looks like?" Bailey smiled as she looked down and then back into my eyes, wrapping her arms around her knees. "That's right. I forgot that you haven't heard the stories." A crease formed between my eyes. "What stories?" She shrugged. "The stories of our people." She sighed as she looked out over the stones but saw a time long ago, a time far away. "Long ago, two children were walking in the forest. Night fell, and they became lost. A black wolf came, and the children shivered, sure that they were about to become a meal for the black wolf. But then a huge white wolf came and scared off the black wolf. When he was gone and the children were safe, the white wolf t

There was a tv and a playstation and some games with movies near it. Anderson and Carl were sharing stories of Williams. They talked about his first deer kill. The time he got scared by a cockroach. The time he killed a turkey and how it was in mid-flight, like an old westerner cowboy. About another time that he got chased by a hive of bees. These stories made Williams seem like a badass. They told stories well into the night. Zane especially liked the story of him clearing Pales like a badass. Shooting them down as they came out of a den with a rifle and a few other soldiers.

“Wei spotted. He has four men with him. One car only. Two minutes.” Saint clenched his jaw and glanced at Hudson. “Don’t go off the rails too soon.” “Worry about getting the right information from him and I’ll keep myself in check,” he said. “I make no such fucking promises,” Wilder said, his eyes looking feral. “But while we wait for him, why doesn’t Pinocchio masturbate?” I grinned and glanced at him. “Why not, Wilder?” “Forest fires,” he said, threw his head back and laughed loudly. “You know, wood on wood.”

Needless to say, he made any story including those that would normally be tagged as boring, sound like the most intriguing stories in the world. So, while everyone sat and fed on some freshly grilled meat mixed with vegetables, (which by the way, made Wilson feel insecure because it could easily attract any flesh eating beasts), the old man told stories after stories of the days back. Some were about his personal experiences and most were stories he had heard, true or untrue. "Do you know the full story behind this broken tar road?" The old man started after chewing on a large chunk of meat and drinking some water. Wine was intoxicating bad it was a terrible idea to drink in the wild. It was

However, we are wild beings, with an insane hunger and need for freedom, it is imposible to cage us, we are the definition of wild, trying to supress our wolves has never ended well for us, It could be like a split personality, the wolf in us, it takes time to merge, it gets harder and painful if we try to supress it, and unlike myths, we do not need to kill to activate it, because contrary to popular belief, it is not a curse, but a gift, a blessing. "Hi," I hear, and turn my gaze to the person, I see a young woman. "Hello." I smile at her, her eyes widening. "Hi," She smiles, then chuckles with embarassment at her repetition, I just stare at her with renewed interest, waiting as she ges he