Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

'What the fuck?'

Nathalie sucked in a cold breath for what she heard, five women ringing their amorous moans aloud at the same time.

Several noises turned into a cacophony of carnal desires, but their screams of pleasure took place and dominated the atmosphere, and she couldn't help but feel so wretched.

This time, she already dreaded what was to come, for what kind of connection she didn't want to anticipate had to do with Keith, but then it was a wake-up call for her when a muffled sound came—which she knew was his.

Like a magnet, unknowingly, instead of moving away from it, she mustered the courage she had to take a peek from the corner of the crate, and there, her eyes almost gouged out of the sockets.

On the pile of sacks found numerous women, more than her fingers and toes she offered—she lost count foremost—surrounding the man, whose limbs were chained and from his face covered with a bunch of nets.

That wolf hair was still seen from afar, cowering behind his back.

Nathalie knew who it was, but that wasn't all.

His drenched torso remained toned and lean: chest rose and fell rather quickly, and his muscles often had spasms from time to time. Roaming her gaze down, she found his raging shaft, twitching so bad, with a white dew dribbling from the tip.

But her dumbfoundedness shifted when that one lady, who just pulled away from it, trudged her way out with her sweaty body along with her soaked, seed-filled pussy. 

"This is fantastic; that was the best sex I ever had." She giggled for a while, then continued, "I hope his lovely genes run off my children—my husband would be so proud of me—"

Another lady pushed her, tripping down to the other side of the sack, grunting, "Move away, you stupid wench! It's my time for him to bear my children!"

"No, you don't! It's my turn! I need to make my husband happy!"

From the other side, a high-pitched voice echoed that berated her without mercy.

"Would it be nice if every man could give us this great pleasure we had today?"

More and more girls started to voice out, and the tension got high with their words thrown so easily.

"I'm happy now. Look at my belly, and I know Chris would be too happy to hear the news I'm—"

"Oh, please. You're a slut, to begin with—"

"You're the same as her; too bad your husband can't make you pregnant. That man will be mine, he can fuck my brains out every round, and I'd call it a day."

"Low-minded bitch! I need him just as much as you do, so stay the hell out! He's mine—!"

"We all get to share here! No one owns who; this is our haven—for whatever purpose we have—so stop it."

Their heated argument came to a stop as they nodded in agreement.

After which, rounds of laughter rang Nathalie's ear, and she had a sudden wave of nausea from their nasty conversation.

The girls were now in a riot, pulling their hairs, clawing one another—ignoring who wounded or hurt who—with their hiss and complaints from pushing each other around.

All of them became mindless animals in a rut, with just a man in front of them as a prized treasure.

Nathalie had myriad emotions, and it broke her heart for what they were saying at the moment. With this, she found her legs wobbled and collapsed. Her trembling lips and hands became prevalent as she was close to shutting down.

Never did she know that Keith had this kind of a past.

The onset of headache came as she recalled the character profile of Keith, but to her dismay, she had yet to put a canon background of him.

A second lead male character had a general background, rather sophisticated, and of good standing, but this one came as though it existed beforehand.

She kept herself sane, contemplating hard, but she was interrupted when rounds of moans came, and this time it was rather arduous and sexual, unbearable enough to listen. Hands clamped, muffling it nonetheless.

But her eyes weren't safe.

One sultry woman was on top of him, riding like it was the last moment of her life. Bobbing her head and screaming on top of her lungs like she wanted nothing better than the ecstasy she had.

While on it, two women slinked through each of his arms, caressing them, as they continued to lick his taut nipples. 

'No! No! I don't want this! Stop it!' Nathalie shook her head; this wasn't the kind of situation she wanted to be in, and she was somehow feeling helpless in the situation. Her voice got stronger, echoing enough to tremble the place in which they took a stop, looking around.

Unbeknownst to her, such chaos befell them, panicking with peals of shrieks as they picked up the clothes on which they wore.

But then, Nathalie's voice died out and stunned the women in the area when the large wooden door creaked. In the spur of the moment, she was one of them, blocking herself from the bright light that graced upon them.

'Who… Who opened—?!'

A sudden clack broke the stifling silence, amidst the brightness formed a slender silhouette, swaying to and fro in a voluminous dress.

Moving closer, Nathalie broke free, and her gaze now greeted the draping periwinkle hair and indigo eyes brimmed with hostility.

With her white, jewel-encrusted gloved hand now intertwined in front of her navel, she stared each one of them dead in the eyes.

[Should I remind you all to scurry along or stay, and I shall rip all of you to pieces?]

An imminent danger was ahead of them from a warning; with no choice left for them but to move out—bare naked or pieces of fabric still on them—even stumbling to the ground head flat, they got back to their feet and moved out of the warehouse.

Mystique strutted close to and glanced at the man, who had spasms all over his body. From a swish of her finger, she cut the chains and the net that covered him.

Nathalie was brought to tears, seeing how his face was drenched and flushed beet-red and popping veins all over his forehead and neck.

[Do speak if you're alive, young man.]

The villainess came to save the day and to the unique character in the author's heart at that.