Hybrids. They made up a good percentage of the population. Roughly 40%. If they flipped a weighted coin, the family had still landed on the unlikely side 8 times now. All of them were shifters. Some used their forms more often than others, but they all had them nonetheless.

Bruce was a Maine Coon. Fitting for his sneaky and independent behavior, Damian followed suit as a Maine Coon…just smaller. Dick was a German Shepard, and Jason was a timber wolf. Steph is a Raccoon dog, Cass was just slightly smaller as a Mink. Tim is a Domestic rat, he claims it’s due to his intelligence, but his room would say otherwise. They’ve been told Alfred has an Elk form, nobody besides Bruce has really seen it however.

With all the shifters in the family, nobody had huge expectations for the newest kid to be a shifter as well. I mean, it was less than a fifty percent chance, and for it to happened a ninth time? Unlikely. And yet the signs of a first shift were crawling on you like flees.

The body aches, intense warmth, heightened smell, and now other’s clothing was starting to go missing. Most likely it had ended up in a hoard in some far off room. Less of a hoard really, and more of a nest.

Apparently Bruce’s guess had been correct, he spent at least ten minutes searching for you. They were about to go out to eat, and nobody had seen you for a bit. When the door opened to the side room he finally found where you had been. The rest of his children weren’t far behind.

A pile of blankets, pillows, and soft clothes were all piled up. A lump right in the middle of it, buried out of sight. “{{user}}, are you alright?”

But he could smell it on you. A difference. Against near all odds, including your age, you were a shifter.