Mated to the Pack Ch. 01

This is a new story in the Non Human category. It is primarily a set up, and doesn't have much in the way of sex in it yet. As per much of my previous work, the editing is assisted by JohnnyGalt. For those of you waiting for another chapter of My Descent Into Slavery, I apologize. I'm working on the last chapter, but I don't have a satisfactory ending to it yet. 'They lived happily ever after' doesn't quite do it for me, in a story I've loved writing so much, and I'm so proud of. Nor do I want to kill characters off. I might like to revisit them in the future. It will come to me.

Mated to the Pack, Ch 1

Renting Out My Womb

My life had just gone to hell. After acquiring a mountain of debt going to college for my engineering degree, getting a great job, and buying a townhouse in Bath, Maine, where I was working for the Bath Iron Works, building ships for the US Navy as a subdivision of General Dynamics, I lost my job two weeks ago.

The economy had tanked during one of the worst recessions of the 21st century. Relations with Russia improved after Putin was assassinated and Russia pulled out of Ukraine. Relations with China improved when they got out of the Spratley Islands. Improved to the point the DOD cancelled the contracts on twenty pending Navy ships, including three at Bath Iron Works. My shipyard also built some commercial and private vessels, but with the recession, no one was buying yachts and container ships either. They still had some retrofitting and repair contracts, but nothing they needed engineers in the quantity that they'd hired me to fill.

Some of the older engineers took early retirement, and a lot of the newer engineers got laid off. Unemployment checks were not going to make my townhouse payment, let alone my student loans.

I'd immediately looked into going to work for other shipbuilding companies, but they were in the same boat as BIW. I tried networking with other graduates I'd attended classes with, and they were all in the same mess as I was. I'd even looked into building ships for Cruise Lines and private yacht builders overseas, but the recession was kicking their asses too. If I started work at something low paying like McDonald's or Burger King, I'd lose some of my unemployment benefits and wouldn't have time to look for another high paying job. I had roughly three months of living expenses in the bank, at which point, I'd be dead broke and declaring bankruptcy, unless I took money from my parents, which I didn't want to do since they were retired and had no new income.

By the way, my name is Jessica Huppert. I'm 5-9 inches tall, 125 pounds, athletic; high, firm, C cup breasts, dark brown hair, quick to smile, except for the last couple weeks. The reason I mention any of that at all, is I was wondering if I'd have to go into prostitution to pay the bills. That's how bad it was. Probably, not in Bath, Maine, which was too small, both to support a career in prostitution, and also small enough everybody knew what everyone else did, which is not something you need if going into an illegal profession. Portland, Maine might even be too small. I might have to go to Boston or some larger city, meaning I'd have to give up my townhouse on the rugged Maine coast, which I'd absolutely hate. I loved it here. I was feeling well and truly fucked, without even an orgasm to brag about.

I'd been going through newspapers, on-line ads, employment assistance sites, everything I could think of to fend off the approaching disaster, and I was feeling quite desperate and despondent at the lack of progress. I didn't even feel like I could go out and drown my sorrows in a bar, but maybe I could buy some cheap champagne and orange juice and inebriate myself to insensibility on mimosas.

I was about to close my web browser and call it a night, when a pop-up ad, in fact, popped up. Based upon your on-line browsing, they were normally the bane to going on-line in the first place. But I'd been searching for jobs, so this one was tied into that search.

"Need Money," the ad read, "Large sums of money to the right person interested in being a Surrogate Mother. Please contact this website for further information," with a website address to link to.

I had never considered renting out my womb before, thinking that if I wanted to have children, it would be with someone I loved, and married first. I wasn't totally opposed to the idea, thinking it might be easier for a future spouse to accept I'd had children before, than to accept I'd been a former prostitute. It might mean I could remain where I was as opposed to having to move, which would be a plus. I suppose it depended on how much money we were talking about for nine months of my life, and how the pregnancy would have to occur.

Not being stupid enough to click on some random link in a pop up ad, I did a little research first. The website was registered to a non-profit organization called Loup-Garou which had very little information about it that I could find anywhere, other than the organization filing, and it's current officers. The non-profit was located in Maine, a positive, as far as my life was concerned. There was nearly as little information about the officers, two male, and two female, as there was the non-profit itself, except they were all born and had addresses in Maine, and seemed to be doing fairly well financially, so I suppose they could afford to pay something for breeding expenses.

I wasn't totally willing to risk my computer to some possible virus or trojan horse, so I backed up my phone, then went to the website on my phone, feeling I could erase my phone and reload my info if the website was infected, not even risking my wifi network, by disconnecting the phone from my wifi system.

The website took me to an application, where I was asked my name, age, address and phone number. No account numbers, no SSN, no exact date of birth, although that would be easy enough to find with my name and age. There was no amount listed for renting out my womb, but it seemed safe enough, so I filled it out, and sent it. I got another pop-up, telling me that someone would be in touch with me in a couple of days with additional information.

Deciding to skip the drunk for now, I went to bed instead, although my financial straits kept my sleep restless, my dreams filled with visions of me carrying a child in my swollen belly.

******

I was up at seven the next morning and went for a run to burn off the restless energy and stress build-up. I thought I was being followed for a half mile of my run, but the car turned off before I got too worried.

There was a message on my phone when I got home, asking me to call one Rene Devereaux, from Loup-Garou at my earliest convenience. Rene had been listed as the President of the non-profit, so they weren't trusting this to an underling. Good, more answers that way.

I called. "I'd like to speak to Mr. Devereaux please."

"Speaking. Thank you for calling so quickly, Miss Huppert."

"I'm glad you called so soon. I feel like I'm in a pretty desperate situation here."

"How so?"

"Lost my job, and two weeks of searching haven't given me any leads into a new one. Can you tell me how much you're paying me to be a surrogate mother?"

"Two hundred thousand per child, with a one million dollar bonus if you have four."

Two hundred grand per kid. I would have needed at least a hundred, so that was good. A million bonus if I have four. Did they want a breeding factory?

"You want more than one child?"

"If the first one's results are satisfactory, more would be beneficial to us."

"You aren't selling children on the black market are you?"

He laughed, a nice laugh. "No, these are strictly for couples who would otherwise be infertile, my own family, shall we say. Before we proceeded, we'd need you to have some medical tests, to determine if you can produce children, at our expense, of course."

"I've got maybe three months before I have to declare bankruptcy and move out. Do I have to wait until the child is delivered before I get paid?"

"If the medical tests are okay and you agree to the terms of our arrangement, we can assume your monthly expenses and pay you a thousand a month for things like groceries and gas against your final payment. All medical costs related to the pregnancy will be assumed by us."

"Will this be done by in vitro fertilization?"

"We can discuss those things if your medical tests come out well. We need to know if we can proceed before determining the method. Are you willing to take the medical exam?"

"Where?"

"You can use your own gynecologist if you wish. I'll text a list of the things we need done and an address where they can bill us for the work. I'm sure you'd be more comfortable with your own doctor, than some stranger. You'd have to come off birth control if you decide to proceed."

They weren't scaring me away yet. "I'll make the appointment as soon as I can get in."

"Thank you, Miss Huppert." He hung up.

I made an appointment for a week from now, sliding into a cancellation. One week closer to destitution, but I kept up my job search, just in case. I received a text with the instructions. A lot of it was medical, for the doctor. They needed my results mailed to a Maine address, and there was a billing address. I printed everything out.

******

"Don't bill this to my usual insurance company," I said when I showed up for my appointment. "I lost my job and don't have insurance anymore."

"Will that cause a payment problem, Miss Huppert?"

"I don't think so. Someone else is paying for it. Here are the billing instructions." I handed them the payment info from Loup-Garou.

"This is an unusual name," she said, looking at the instructions.

"It's a non-profit; sounds foreign, doesn't it?"

"It's French. It's the French word for werewolf."

"Like Lon Chaney, or 'Werewolf of London' werewolf, howling at the moon, werewolf?"

"One and the same."

"That is kind of a weird name. Why would anyone name a non-profit after werewolves?"

"I can't answer that." She called the number and after a brief conversation, it was confirmed they were paying for the doctor visit.

When they brought me into the exam room, I handed the nurse the list of things they wanted checked.

"It looks like you're thinking of getting pregnant," Sharlene, my doctor's nurse said, reading the list.

"I'm thinking about it," I said. "How much trouble is it getting my IUD removed?"

"No trouble at all. Easier than installing it in the first place."

"If it seems like I'm going to be able to bear children, why don't you remove it?"

"I'll tell Dr. Andrews."

I was poked, prodded, had blood drawn, peed in a cup, and had a number of other tests done before they put me on the table and the doctor went poking around my po po.

"The exterior organs look fine," Dr. Andrews said. "Are you sure you want your IUD removed?"

"Yes. Guess I'll be going with condoms for the time being."

"Make sure you use latex condoms and use with a spermicide such as Nonoxyl 9. It increases the effectiveness of the condom."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"How sexually active are you?"

"Not very. Last boyfriend I had was in college. I've had a couple sexual encounters since, but nothing to write home about. The result of too much alcohol and too much horniness, I guess."

"I hope you were careful."

"I didn't have that much alcohol. I took precautions. I need you to send the results of my tests to these people," I said, handing her another sheet of paper.

Dr. Andrews looked at it. "Did you sign a HIPPA release?"

"When I checked in. How long before you have the results of all the tests?"

"About a week."

Another week closer to pauper. My job search hadn't come up with anything. I'd have about two and a half months of funds left in two weeks.

"That's fine, but the sooner the better."

I went back to my townhome to wait for the results. I went jogging every morning, and I still couldn't get over the feeling I was being watched. Worse yet, I thought I saw a damn big dog running in the woods close to my route. Scared the bejesus out of me, but it never approached, so I tried to ignore it.

******

I got a call right after my morning run. "Miss Huppert, I believe you're a candidate for our needs," Mr. Devereaux said. "Can I meet you somewhere for further discussions. I'd like to meet you in person."

"In public," I said.

"Is the Winnegance Restaurant sufficiently public? Have you had breakfast yet?"

"I haven't and it's plenty public. How will I know you?"

"I'll know you, Miss Huppert. I'll see you there, in say an hour?"

That sounded somewhat ominous. I hadn't sent any photos. "I'll be there," I replied.

Taking a quick shower, I dressed somewhat professionally, treating this like a job interview, which at this point is what it was. I left off my jacket, but the knee length skirt and silk blouse with a scarf around the neck seemed sufficient since we were talking a breeding job.

As soon as I walked through the door, this drop dead gorgeous man who had to be six feet, three inches tall, with long but neat brown hair, neatly trimmed beard and mustache, built like a brick shithouse, stood up in the corner and waved for me to come over. I double checked to see that there was no one behind me he could be waving at, and seeing none, headed in his direction. He remained standing and held my chair out for me. Damn, if I was having a child for him, I wouldn't mind having it the old fashioned way. I could feel my pussy get damp.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Huppert" he said. "Please sit down."

It was the mellifluous tones of Mr. Devereaux. I sat and he pushed my chair in slightly, then took a seat opposite me. He seemed to sniff, then smiled in appreciation. "Thank you, Ms. Huppert. Order anything you like."

I looked over the menu and asked for the meat lover's omelette with rye toast and orange juice.

The waitress arrived and he gave her both our breakfast orders. He had the seafood omelette, no toast and water. He waited until we'd both put in our orders and the waitress left.

"Your tests came out perfect. You're in excellent shape, and I don't see any issues with motherhood. We're all quite pleased."

"Who's all?"

"We'll get to that in a moment. I've got some paperwork you need to read and sign first."

He handed me a two page document.

"What is this?"

"It's a non-disclosure agreement. Most of what we're going to talk about is privileged information, and revealing it, can result in prosecution under the US Criminal Code."

"Why would a disclosure result in prosecution instead of a civil lawsuit? We're still talking about maternity surrogacy, are we not?"

"I can't disclose that until you read and sign the document."

I looked at him sharply. He had an easy smile on his face. God, he was sexy, and with this amused twinkle in his eye like he knew something that I didn't.

I read over the document, which was written with enough legalese to make a grown man cry. I was a bright girl and had signed enough legal documents to be familiar with the language. After all, I'd been building US Navy warships not that long ago. I knew how to keep my mouth shut. Despite the language, it seemed straightforward enough, I felt confident in signing the document.

Handing it back, I said, "Now can you explain some of your more cryptic comments?"

"What do you know about lycanthropy?"

"The psychosis that you believe you're a wolf? Nothing. I'm an engineer, not a psychologist."

"Not the mental illness, but the fable."

"Yeah, only what I've seen in late night movies. Full moon, turns into a wolf, kills for pleasure. Can only be killed by silver bullets."

"Most of that is bullshit, but what if I told you lycanthropy is real?"

"I'd be looking for men in white coats, coming to take you away to the funny farm. I would think that if werewolves were real, the government would know about it by now."

"The government does know about it. They've known since 1850, and signed a peace treaty with the pack nation in 1899. It's one of the most closely guarded secrets the government has, hence why you can be prosecuted under the US Criminal Code for divulging it."

I smiled. "Then why are you telling me? Won't you be arrested and prosecuted?"

"Not if you keep your mouth shut," Rene said. "We've received a special dispensation, because we're dying out and we need help."

"Help with what exactly?"

Rene paused, sniffing again, shortly before our waitress returned with our food. He almost looked like a dog the way his nose seemed to taste the air. He waited until she was gone again.

"Help breeding baby werewolves. Why don't you eat your food while it's hot."

I was seriously wondering if I should bail. This guy, good looking though he was, had to be batshit crazy. He dug into his, and could I say that he wolfed it down like it was his first meal after starving for a week? He wasn't messy, just fast. His was finished before I'd eaten half of mine.

When he was done, he continued. "Do you know how werewolves are made?"

"Don't you need to be bitten by another werewolf?"

"That was the most common way for it to occur, but the treaty signed between the US government and the packs outlawed biting humans to make more of us. We have to have children now, baby werewolves."

"What's a baby werewolf called?

"A pup or puppy, just like a dog."

"So why don't you fuck other werewolves and make babies?" I was stringing him along, keeping him calm until I finished my breakfast. Looked like I'd have to find another job.

"There's a problem with that?"

"What kind of problem?"

"If we mate as wolves, we produce more wolves, not shapeshifters, but ordinary wolves. If we mate as humans, we produce more humans. If we breed wolf body to human body, we're sterile. Whatever it is in our genetic make up that makes us werewolves, means we have to mate with normal humans as a wolf, to create more werewolves. Just as biting each other doesn't do more than kill us, but biting humans as a wolf makes more werewolves, we need to have sex with humans, to create more werewolves."

I stared at him. "You've got to be fucking kidding me?" I said. "You want me to fuck a wolf?"

"Not a wolf, a werewolf."

"What's the difference?"

"A werewolf won't eat you, at least not that way." He grinned as he said it.

I thought he was even more crazy now, but that grin. Still made my pussy melt.

"You're aroused now, aren't you?" Rene asked

"Good guess."

"It's not a guess. I can smell you."

I could almost smell me. I'm not sure that proved anything.

"Why not artificial insemination?"

"We have to be in human form to jack off into a cup. Doesn't work. Going the other way also has problems. Whacking off male werewolves is problematic. We're not fond of that. Wolves get a little testy when humans wank their cocks."

"So let me ask you; can a human male mate with a female werewolf and produce offspring?" I asked.

"They can, but there's two problems, no three."

"Which are?"

"Human males have difficulty maintaining an erection when confronted with a wolf. Our males produce a lot of semen. Human males not so much. Human males don't normally produce enough ejaculate, it usually requires more than one human male to do the job and female werewolves often bite during mating, thereby violating the treaty. They're friendly nips, as wolf bites go, part of our normal mating process, but a bite is a bite. We've also tried putting a muzzle on the females, and that has reduced the biting, but it still requires several males, and we still have the erection problem, as most human males aren't sexually attracted to a wolf.