Beast World: They Hated Me, Then I Cooked Them Dinner
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
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Chapter 4
The slums of the Enclave looked exactly like the garbage chute of a massive, metallic beast. Rusting pipes crisscrossed above their heads, leaking foul-smelling condensation onto the cracked pavement. The sky was permanently obscured by a thick, yellow smog that burned the back of Terra’s throat with every inhalation.
Zev walked ten paces ahead of Terra. His long, powerful strides ate up the distance. He never looked back. Terra practically jogged to keep up. Her chest heaved. The cheap, high-heeled boots the original Terra wore pinched her toes, sending sharp spikes of pain up her calves.
Whenever they passed a group of people huddled around burning trash barrels, they would stop and stare. Their eyes were hollow, hungry. They looked at Terra’s clean, though ridiculous, clothes. They looked at her unblemished skin. But then they looked at Zev. They saw the slight bulge of his muscles under his dark military shirt. They sensed the violent, suppressed energy radiating off him. And they backed away, lowering their heads in submission. The Beast Mark really was a shield. Without him, Terra would have been dragged into a dark alley within five minutes.
They finally reached the edge of the sector. The concrete gave way to dark, muddy earth. Before them ran a wide, slow-moving river. The water was not blue. It was a murky, sickly grayish-brown.
"The filtration river," Zev stated flatly, stopping at the muddy bank. He crossed his arms and stared out at the water, deliberately giving Terra his back.
Terra walked to the edge and looked down. The smell was awful—a mix of old copper and rotting vegetation. "Is this safe?" Terra asked, hesitating.
"It won't melt your skin off," Zev replied without turning around. "The industrial plants upriver filter out the heavy radiation. It's safe enough for the rats to drink. You'll survive washing your face."
Terra crouched down in the mud. She didn't care about ruining the expensive clothes. She needed to get the chemical sludge off her face. Terra cupped her hands, scooped up the cold, gray water, and splashed it onto her skin. It stung. The water was harsh, highly acidic. But as Terra scrubbed aggressively, peeling away the thick layers of waterproof white foundation and neon pink dye, she felt an intense sense of relief. Her pores could finally breathe. Terra rubbed her eyes until they were raw, clearing away the heavy black eyeliner. She dunked her hands back into the water, scrubbing the grease from her fingers.
As Terra stared down at her blurry reflection in the moving water, a sharp, synthetic chime suddenly echoed inside her skull.
DING.
Terra froze. Her hands hovered over the water.
[System Activation Complete.]
A robotic, distinctly female voice spoke directly into Terra’s brain. It did not come from her ears. It came from inside.
[Welcome, Host. I am the Kore AI System. Designed for tactical survival and biological optimization in high-stress environments.]
Terra’s heart leaped into her throat. The golden finger. The transmigration cheat code. It was real. Terra didn't speak out loud. She formulated the thought in her mind. *What can you do?*
[Initializing bio-metric scan. Accessing Host status...]
A translucent blue screen suddenly projected itself directly onto Terra’s retinas. She blinked rapidly, but the screen stayed fixed in her field of vision.
[Host Profile]
Name: Terra Mason
Status: Severe Malnutrition, Mild Chemical Toxicity.
Energy Level: 12% (Critical)
Crypto-credits: 500 (Initial System Reward)
Five hundred crypto-credits. Terra’s bank accounts had been zeroed by the Board, but the system just handed her a lifeline. In the Enclave, credits were everything.
[Accessing Contracted Asset Dashboard...]
The screen flickered. A new tab opened. It showed a list of names: her contracted males. Her beast husbands.
[Asset 1: Zev Kagan]
Form: Serpent (Level 6)
Physical Status: Healthy.
Affection Metric: -90 (Lethal Hatred)
Trust Metric: 0
Terra winced. Negative ninety. The man literally wanted her dead. She scrolled down mentally.
[Asset 2: Rhys Donovan]
Form: Aquatic (Level 5)
Physical Status: Critical Organ Failure.
Estimated Time to Death: 4 Hours.
Affection Metric: -99 (Absolute Disgust)
Trust Metric: 0
Terra’s blood ran completely cold. Rhys Donovan. The second male the original Terra had forcefully contracted. He was dying? Four hours? Terra dug frantically into the original Terra’s memories. Rhys. He had an aquatic bio-form, a mermaid-like beast. He required high humidity and clean water to maintain his scales. The original Terra had locked him in a dry, concrete basement for a week as punishment for refusing to let her pet his dorsal fin. She had literally dehydrated a Level 5 combat asset to the point of organ failure out of sheer, petty cruelty.
If Rhys died, his bio-core would detonate. And because he was contracted to Terra, the feedback loop would tear straight through her life force. It wouldn't just kill Terra. It would kill Zev, too. The Beast Mark linked them all to the same sinking ship.
"Zev!" Terra screamed, spinning around in the mud, her face dripping with gray water.
Zev turned slowly. He looked at Terra’s bare face for a split second, a flicker of surprise passing through his golden eyes, but it was instantly masked by irritation. "What now?" Zev snapped.
"Where is Rhys?" Terra demanded, scrambling up the muddy bank. Her wet boots slipped, but she caught herself. "Where did she—where did I lock him up?"
Zev’s expression darkened instantly. The muscles in his jaw visibly jumped. "You locked him in the sub-basement of the warehouse in Sector 4," Zev said, his voice dropping into a deadly, quiet register. "You told Corbin to stand guard and not let anyone give him water until he 'learned his place.' Why? You want to go watch him suffer?"
"He's dying, Zev!" Terra yelled, pushing past him. "If he dies, we all die!"
Zev grabbed Terra’s arm. His fingers dug painfully into her bicep. "He's a Level 5," Zev growled. "He can survive a week without water. His core is strong."
"His organs are failing!" Terra ripped her arm out of his grip. She didn't have time to explain how she knew. "Take me to Sector 4. Now!"
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7.5
I was Nyx, a top-tier covert operative. But when I opened my eyes, I was trapped in the unfamiliar, overweight body of a bullied girl named Eliza.
Before I could even process the body swap, the bedroom door splintered open. I was in bed with Julian Malone, a wealthy military heir, both of us heavily drugged. Cameras flashed wildly. It was a vicious setup to ruin his career, and I was the bait.
To save his family's reputation, Julian was forced to marry me. But the moment the wedding was over, he abandoned me. His elite family treated me like a disease. His mother froze my only bank account, trying to starve me into submission.
I even intercepted a private conversation between his parents.
"Once she's in a private facility, she loses all legal standing. We can sign anything we want on her behalf."
They planned to lock me up in a mental asylum and erase my existence entirely to get rid of the "trailer park trash."
To them, I was just a weak, pathetic pawn they could crush without a second thought. They thought they had backed a helpless girl into a corner.
They had no idea they had just declared war on a lethal weapon.
I didn't cry or beg. Instead, I bypassed their state-of-the-art security, cracked their safe, and stole the financial secrets that could destroy their entire empire.
"I want five hundred thousand dollars, or these files go to the IRS."
This time, I was playing by my own rules.
9.7
Agent Alivia Sanford opened her eyes to the suffocating stench of wild animal musk and raw sex.
She hadn't just transmigrated into a savage beastman world; she had woken up in the body of a 300-pound, diseased, and universally despised woman. Worse, the original owner had just drugged the tribe's strongest warrior, trying to force a mating.
Now, the warrior pinned her to the cave floor with murderous fury.
"You think you can trap me, you disgusting pig?" he snarled, ready to rip her throat out.
After kneeing him and escaping, a "Super Charm AI" bound to her mind demanded she conquer her five designated mates to survive. But these men treated her like a walking plague. They mocked her bloated face, threw bloody raw meat into the mud for her to eat, and publicly announced they would starve her to death. Even her own family looked at her with utter disgust.
In her past life, she was a legendary survivor who could have crushed these arrogant men with her bare hands. Now, she was trapped in a weak shell, threatened with soul erasure by a system if she didn't grovel for their affection. Why should she beg for love from beasts who wanted her dead?
Looking at the five "-100" hostility scores on her system panel, Alivia coldly drew a mental cross over each of their faces. Enduring agonizing pain, she forced her bio-manipulation ability to violently purge the toxins from her fat body. She wasn't going to play their twisted game; she was going to find her own resources and make them pay.
8.1
On my wedding day, the wedding planner looked at me with pity in her eyes.
She told me the groom had called with a last-minute request. He wanted the name on the floral arch changed from "Elena" to "Sofia."
Five years of loyalty to Dante Romero, and I found out he was planning a "secret" ceremony with his mistress an hour before ours.
He claimed she was dying of cancer. He said it was her final wish to be a bride, and that as a good mafia wife, I should understand. He swore it was just charity.
But I had seen the texts where he called me "furniture."
I had watched him step over my body when I fell down the stairs at a club, just so he could leave with her.
And this morning, I watched Sofia walk into the hotel lobby wearing *my* custom French lace wedding dress, smirking as she clung to his arm.
Dante thinks I'm crying in the bridal suite.
He thinks I will sit in the front row of his "fake" wedding and wait for my turn like a dutiful puppet.
He is wrong.
I wiped my tears and picked up my phone. I didn't cancel the wedding date. I just changed the location to the ballroom next door.
And I changed the groom.
As Dante says his vows to his mistress, I am walking down the aisle to meet the only man the Romero family fears.
The Reaper.
8.2
One night was supposed to be her escape. After catching her ex-boyfriend in the arms of her treacherous stepsister on her twenty-first birthday, Valerie sought the only mercy she could find: the numbing sting of alcohol. But the morning brought no peace-only a shattered spirit, a body marked by a stranger, and a memory wiped clean against her will.
Months later, Valerie is a woman reborn from the wreckage, landing a high-paying role at the prestigious Noir Group. But the dream quickly shifts into a polished nightmare. Her new boss is Ellan Noir-a ruthless CEO whose name commands the city and whose eyes hold an unmistakable, familiar darkness.
When a mistake in the executive lift threatens her career, Ellan offers a devil's bargain: a contract of total submission. To save her best friend Nora's failing heart, Valerie must become his private property, bound to his beck and call 24/7. As office politics bleed into a dangerous game of obsession, Valerie realizes the man who rules her career is the same shadow who owns her past.
Dragged into his world of chaos, Valerie discovers a truth that changes everything She decides to collide with Ellan's business rival y get revenge until she realises she is carrying his child. As she struggles to survive the predators in the Noir family, Ellan fights for his life in a hospital bed. With a baby's life hanging in the balance after a lethal post-birth injection, Valerie must decide if she can save the man who broke her-or if their twisted fate will end in tragedy.
7.1
To save my family from ruin, I remarried my billionaire ex-husband, Jaxon Lowe. He held my late mother' s locket hostage, forcing me back into a gilded cage where I endured his cold contempt and his very public affair. I played the part of the silent, obedient wife he demanded, building a wall of ice around my heart just to survive.
But my obedience didn't protect me. He abandoned me in a torrential downpour to rescue his mistress, Ivory.
Then, he broke his one promise. He let Ivory have my mother's locket pulled from auction, the very reason for my sacrifice, simply because she found it "unlucky."
That final betrayal led me straight into the hands of his business rival, where I was tortured and left for dead.
But I survived.
Four months later, Jaxon found me. He stood before me, tears streaming down his face, holding the now-repaired locket and begging for forgiveness.
I took back what was mine.
"I want a divorce," I said, my voice calm and final. "And I never want to see you again."
7.6
I was the Chicago Outfit's princess, and Luca and Matteo were my sworn protectors. We had mixed our blood at ten years old, promising that nothing would ever touch me.
But that oath turned to ash the night Sofia Ricci aimed a Roman candle at my chest.
The firework slammed into my shoulder, igniting my silk dress instantly. As I rolled on the concrete, screaming while the flames ate into my skin, I waited for my boys to save me.
They didn't.
Instead, I watched through the smoke as they rushed to Sofia. They wrapped their jackets—the ones meant to shield me—around the girl who had just set me on fire, comforting her because the "kickback" had scared her.
They let me burn to keep her warm.
When I woke up in the hospital with permanent scars, they brought me a letter of apology from her and defended her "accident." They even cut their palms to pay her debt, ignoring the fact that I was the one in bandages.
That was the moment Elena Vitiello died.
I didn't scream. I didn't beg. I simply packed my bags and defected to the one place they couldn't follow: the arms of Dante Moretti, the lethal Capo of New York.
By the time they realized their mistake and came crawling back to beg in the rain, I was already wearing another man's ring.
"You want forgiveness?" I asked, looking down at them.
"Burn for it."