The Halloween Hunt

Editor's note: this submission contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sexual situations.

This story is potentially triggering. It is a bit darker than my usual writing. Helllooooo... Halloween! :)

It features force, being captured and bound, and sadism/masochism. If you are sensitive to these themes, and/or do not enjoy them, please, read no further. Thank you.

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By 7am Halloween morning, I was on the winding mountain road which led to pack lands. I'd skipped my usually fashionable and provocative attire for a simple white tunic and sandals which met the dress code for The Halloween Hunt. Anyone who glimpsed the pack gathering today would assume we were having a Roman themed toga party. They wouldn't be far off. It was a roman-style party, complete with backstabbing politics and debauchery.

Nobody did debauchery better than a werewolf. In fact, I made a living with that skill. The politic gene had skipped me, however. I understood the necessity of finding non-violent ways to resolve problems, especially with our declining population. But I'd always been a straight-forward kind of girl, with little patience for fake smiles and empty promises. I preferred fucking someone physically, not fucking them over metaphorically while convincing everyone it was for the greater good.

I loathed pack politics so much, I'd left a spacious house and a position of power to live in a small apartment and work for the pack-owned escort service in the city. I wasn't the only wolf who had made that life decision, either. Many packs owned and ran brothels and escort services for that very reason. Well that and... we aged slowly, we were immune to human diseases, and we couldn't get pregnant with anyone but our mate. It also put packs in a position to blackmail influential humans when needed in order to keep our existence secret.

I was pulled from my wandering thoughts as I rounded the last corner before my destination. There were more cars parked at the trailhead behind the pack house than I was used to seeing, even for The Hunt. My stomach knotted in fearful anticipation as I parked my car and faced the gathering crowd.

I made my way toward the picnic tables and the impressive buffet set up in the back lawn, admiring the festive decorations strewn through the trees as I passed beneath them. The mated wolves were easy to spot in their gunmetal grey togas. They made up the majority of political movers and shakers surrounding the Alpha and his mate. I didn't have to be within earshot to be annoyed by the inevitable wheedling for some kind of preferential treatment.

There were also a group of white toga clad strangers waiting nearby for their turn to get the ear of the Alphas. They had their backs to me, but their posture and their build didn't match anyone I could recall seeing at pack functions. They were probably representatives from the visiting pack.

The crowd parted with ease before me as I approached. Many of the wolves didn't like me. Many would likely challenge me later. But none were stupid enough to block my path. Not liking politics didn't change who I was, or where I ranked.

I gave a mocking little curtsey as I stood before the Alphas. "Mom. Dad. I'm here. As ordered. I'm just thrilled to put my life on hold to see if the gods want to fuck me over even further. Now, I'm going to get some food."

Before I could make good on my words, my mom trapped me with a hug and whispered, "I really wish you wouldn't antagonize him so much. He made it mandatory for everyone this year, not just you."

My dad rolled his eyes. "Dammit, Lyrie. It is bad enough that you neglect your duties to your pack. But your opinion of the gods is the height of childishness. When will you take anything seriously?"

"Hey! I take food very seriously!" A couple of soft chuckles from the crowd were quickly silenced when the Alpha growled.

"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough. You cannot escape your responsibilities forever, Lyrie." I was treated to the stern Alpha stare. I was unphased.

"Maybe not, but I can try. I didn't ask to be challenged by your beta. And I had no intention of letting him kick my ass. Not that my winning should matter in the grand scheme of things. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony... wait... farcical lycanic challenge."

My dad pinched his nose, "Monty Python? Really Lyrie? Go, before I say something we'll both regret."

"Help, help! I'm being repressed!" The look he gave me would have done Medusa justice.

Maybe my mother was right. He was already under a lot of stress. I bit my tongue and continued towards the buffet table. I avoided looking at the political boot lickers as I passed. I didn't want to make eye contact and risk someone striking up a conversation with me.

Mark, one of the few wolves I liked enough to risk being mated to, fell into step next to me. "Hiya, Lyrie."

A genuine smile graced my lips as his presence helped me relax some. "Hey, Mark. I sure am glad to see you!"

Marks laugh was hearty and genuine. "You're just glad there's someone who will laugh at your jokes rather than be offended."

"That doesn't hurt, for sure."

"Got your eye on anyone this year, Lyrie?"

"Would it matter if I did?"

"You could get lucky, you never know."

"If lady luck was on my side, I would be mated to you, Mark."

"You say the sweetest things. But honestly, I don't know if you could handle all this sexy wolf flesh day in and day out..."

I shoved him into the bushes. He reemerged a few seconds later, laughing.

"C'mon, Lyrie. The gods pick the matches when the veil between worlds is thin. They obviously knew we weren't a good match on some level. Or maybe they knew we'd wind up making 3 headed babies or something crazy like that. Ain't nobody got time for raising Cerberus!"

I laughed, as he intended. "I've heard that argument... minus Cerberus of course."

It was Mark's turn to laugh.

I gave him a wink and continued, "No one can deny something that defies explanation happens during The Hunt. But look at my parents! Or worse, look at the Dagellas! Those two HATE each other. But they're mated and have a kid. How can the gods think that's a good thing? Don't they think love and happiness are important?"

I paused when I realized I was getting wound up, "Annnnnd... I'm ranting. Sorry Mark. I know I'm preaching to the choir here."

"Too right you are. I don't want the gods to mate me to a harpy like Mrs. Dagella either. But your parents didn't turn out all bad. They might not be in love, but they're effective leaders of the pack. Besides, they made you, didn't they?" There wasn't much I could say to that.

We reached the buffet table and he grabbed 2 glasses of orange juice, handing me one.

He raised his glass in a toast to me. "To a year with more mated pairs so our parents will quit hounding us, and a wish for a lack of harpies in this year's participants."

"You're wishing for the wrong thing, Mark, my boy. You need to wish for all the harpies to be mated to one another, leaving only sane people for the gods to choose for us.

I found a plate and loaded it with eggs, sausage, and bacon. I had no idea what the visitors would be like, but I wanted to fuel my stamina, just in case. The gods might choose who would be mated this night, but if I didn't get caught, I couldn't be mated, no matter what the gods wanted.

I liked Mark, so I'd let him catch me 3 years ago. The sex was great, but it had stung when no mating bond had formed. The next year, I'd narrowly avoided being caught by Roger, the sour faced bully from my high school years. I knew him, and to say I didn't like him was an understatement. The thought that I could have wound up mated to him terrified me.

Out of fear of something worse than Roger appearing on my Halloween radar, I'd avoided participating entirely last year, using my work schedule as an excuse. This year, dear old dad had threatened to have me fired if I didn't show up, so here I was. I didn't have to be happy about it though.

The tables filled quickly, and everyone was present before 9am. Werewolves were nothing if not punctual... especially when food was involved. Thankfully, our hearty appetites meant there was little conversation when food was on the table.

The speeches and announcements started as soon as a majority of wolves had eaten their fill. Sitting through boring state dinners and inane social events while tuning everything out for the sake of my sanity was an acquired talent in my line of work. I only listened long enough to identify the visitors as the Shenandoah pack before mentally checking out.

The announcements, grandstanding, and speeches ended at lunch, and the challenges started. Females, being prey this evening, were exempt from challenges until after the event. It was nice to be a mere spectator for a change.

I didn't want to inadvertently draw the attention of one of the visiting pack, so I watched the goings-on from the corner of my eye, while pretending to read "Special Forces Guide to Escape and Evasion." The goal was to give any would-be chatters a hint without having to open my mouth. It was a tactic that worked surprisingly well.

I didn't do much actual reading, no matter what I pretended. I was a blue-blooded werewolf after all, and not immune to ogling impressive examples of man flesh as they challenged one another... to wrestling matches mostly. Only a few serious challenges for position were made. Most wolves didn't want to risk injury before The Hunt.

Catching discreet glances proved to be harder than I'd thought it would be. The Shenandoah pack grew them tall, muscular, and dark. One in particular caught my eye. He fit the mold of the rest of his pack for his overall build. But something about the way he moved as he suplexed this opponent captured my attention.

I risked a full look trying to figure out what had piqued my curiosity. His skin was a bit paler than the others, but his hair was every bit as black. As if he could feel my eyes on his back, he turned and looked at me. His shockingly pale blue eyes met mine, and I felt a zing of attraction. I returned my focus to my book and did my best to pretend my attention had never wandered elsewhere. I also prayed to all the gods that he didn't notice my blush.

I felt no further temptation to let my attention stray from reading. I clearly couldn't trust myself to sneak casual peeks. I liked my job. I liked not being tangled in pack politics any deeper than I already was. I liked making my own decisions and not running them by anyone else. I had no desire to be mated to anyone. Not even a good-looking blue-eyed man. I kept those words on a loop in my mind as my eyes skimmed over the pages.

I wondered if those blue eyes stayed blue in his wolf form. Most of us went various shades of yellow or gold. My own went from green to greenish-gold. What would blue-gold look like, I wondered? Whoa. Dangerous thing, taking an interest and getting my hopes up. Besides, with looks like that, he probably had females falling at his feet and an ego a mile wide because of it.

I mentally filed him in the "harpy" category just to be safe, and my thoughts returned to sane, funny Mark. He had wandered off before the challenges started. Being seated next to me when challenges were being issued was as safe as holding a lightning rod during a thunder storm. As the final challenge was accepted, I searched for him again, if only to see a friendly face and reassure my jangling nerves.

I found him standing in a group near my father. As I made eye contact with him, he grimaced apologetically. Several wolves he was standing near also turned to look at me. My skin crawled and my heart froze. What was going on? What did he know that I didn't? Why were they looking at me?

I started to make my way towards him to get my answers when a loud, resonating gong sounded from deep in the forested hills. I was out of time. We were being called to The Halloween Hunt. Mysteries would have to wait until later.

As I made my way towards the starting line, I gave myself an internal pep talk. The Hunters didn't work together, it was every wolf for himself. I grew up here. I knew every nook and cranny of these woods. I'd won the last wolf standing award by meeting sunrise untouched several times. No one was catching me unless I wanted to be caught. I had nothing to fear. The gods could go fuck themselves.

Repeating that litany to myself did nothing to ease fear that rose higher the closer we were to the starting line. As us females stepped near the line, we dropped our tunics nearly in unison. We placed our toes on the pale line in the dark earth at the border between manicured lawn and wild forest. There were nearly 50 of us prey this year. We stood shoulder to shoulder, bare as the day we were born, awaiting the traditional announcement of The Hunt rules. We looked up to the Alphas who stood on the platform built into the trees above the starting line.

"Tonight, you are not wolves. Tonight, leave dignity behind. Tonight, you are prey." Several conspiratorial giggles escaped the waiting line of females as he paused for dramatic effect.

"The prey gets a one-minute head start before the hunters, as always. As stated earlier, that's the only unchanged rule." My father paused again for emphasis and my heart sank.

When the silence dragged on long enough to make us start to squirm, he continued. "No one who has captured you before may capture you again. There will be no last wolf standing award. All other rules are suspended."

My father looked right at me as he spoke those last words. The message was loud and clear. There would be no more hiding from what he felt was my duty. The unease I'd felt when I'd noticed all those eyes on me blossomed into full panic. I had a bullseye painted on my back, and my father had put it there.

As I looked up and down the line, few of the women looked dismayed at the turn of events. In fact, the majority seemed delighted. Even my human nose could scent the arousal, it was so thick. None of it was mine. I had never felt more exposed and alone.

Fear gave my feet wings as the starting gun fired. I felt the tingle of that undefined magic which was always present in these woods on Halloween night. It wasn't as if I needed a reminder that tonight was different and the events were serious to make me run faster. Doubly inspired, the other women were lost from sight within seconds.

Of course, it seemed the majority of the others were quite willing to be caught. I slowed my break-neck speed as I looked for a non-obvious hiding place. The hunters would find the willing prey long before they started searching for the elusive ones. I had time.

Nonetheless, I changed directions and sprinted parallel to the start line instead of straight away from it for a while. I usually ran deep into the forest, trusting my speed to keep me ahead of pursuers until I heard the first shrieks of other prey being captured. If my father had forced Mark to betray me, that's what they would expect from me. I couldn't risk following my usual pattern.

I found a thicket growing at the base of a 20ft rock cliff, and wiggled my way inside. I pressed my back against the comforting solid surface while the thick branches shielded me from view. I mastered my breathing and forced myself to be calm. I was safe for the moment.

No one knew exactly what magic was involved that allowed wolves to become mated this night and no other. Many theorized the hunter had to prove himself worthy of fathering offspring by capturing his prey. I personally thought that was garbage, since many prey were captured year in and year out who never wound up mated with their Hunters. But I didn't have a better theory to offer in its place either.

Over the years, rules had been added to make the event more socially acceptable to the younger wolves, encouraging more participation when they tipped the scales solidly in the prey's favor. No tracking in wolf form, the hunters could not work in together, and the prey could choose to leave the field after being captured once. The steady decline in the number of mated pairs and overall birth rates must have forced the return to the old ways... and the participation mandate.

My rambling thoughts froze as the sound of a broken branch shattered the quiet. I peered through the branches cautiously, right into a pair of golden eyes framed in a furry face. With a small squeak of surprise, I leapt to my feet. In the same motion, I twisted my body, and began scaling the rock face. I couldn't outrun a wolf on 2 legs, but I could outclimb one! He howled, inviting others to join his hunt. I cussed, realizing the climb was probably futile now that he'd called in help, but probably was a certainty if I stopped.

As I hauled my body over the edge of the cliff onto the grassy top, I breathed a sigh of relief to find the clearing empty. I scrambled to my feet and dashed down the gentle slope. I didn't make it far before I was cut off by an imposing figure of a man. I stifled a scream and juked to the left. He fell for it and I ducked under his reaching arms as I darted past him to the right.

He yelled "She's here!" and my heart sank as I felt the proverbial noose tightening.

Hopeless or not, it simply wasn't in my nature to give up. They might win, but I'd make them earn it. I didn't slow down as I hit the wall of brush. The branches tore at my pale skin and caught in my hair. Little spikes of pain encouraged my heart into a gallop that matched the speed of my fleeing feet.

I darted like the prey I was, changing direction each time I heard or caught a glimpse of anyone, be they on 2 legs or 4. I avoided each Hunter I encountered, and never gave any of them the chance to do more than shout before I altered my path to remain out of reach.

I was feeling pretty confident until I broke through the brush well within reach of the blue-eyed stranger in all his naked glory. The shock of it made me lose a step. He could have easily grabbed me, but he never reached for me. Instead, he smiled a sad smile as I reversed my course. The look was unmistakable: he pitied me.

The pity broke my confidence, and I began to notice a pattern: I was being herded towards The Green Man.

I tried to squeak through the semi-circle of Hunters and escape their herding, but I'd figured out their tactic too late. I ducked one set of arms, only to be captured by another. I kicked and screamed, fighting like a wildcat, which, judging by the chuckles I heard, amused my captors.

Strong arms twisted me around until my backside was being nudged by a very hard cock. My hands flailed, beating at the flesh pressed behind me, my feet stomped on the tops of any foot that dared come in range. A fist to my stomach doubled me over, and my captors took advantage of my momentary weakness, binding my wrists behind my back before I could catch my breath.

I gasped a painful lungful of air, and tried to dash away. I was rewarded with a cruel fist gripping my red hair, bringing my flight up short. I struggled against the hold, trying to twist away, ignoring the searing pain in my scalp. My efforts came to a grinding halt when my wrists were shoved up towards my shoulder blades so they put a strain on every joint in both arms. I knew any further struggle could result in dislocated joints. I may get off on a bit of pain, but even masochists have their limits. My thrashing ceased.

My mind was racing, panicked, and unable to find a way out of the predicament. My body, however, was delighted with the situation if my throbbing sex was any indication. Before I could reconcile the differences between mind and body, The Green Man came into view. A giant oak with a rough, knotted trunk that vaguely resembled the features of a bearded face shaded a massive grassy clearing. My thoughts stuttered to a halt as I saw a set of old-fashioned stocks in the center of the meadow. Something I might expect to find in a medieval dungeon, but never on The Hunt.