Villain Transmigration: Author Transformation

Keith was soaked and all, but at the moment, he now had his breath to a calm rhythm, and the stark red that flushed his skin from all of the tension he had slowly vanished in sight. He tried his best to sit upright despite how he was beyond weakened for the whole time he was in such a struggle.

"You are…"

[Save your words.] After which, Mystique threw a gray duffel bag at Keith; she turned around, donning the hood of her cloak.  [Perhaps you lived your whole life this way?]

"Y—Yes…"

[I suppose you need to get yourself dressed, for the meantime, don't you think so?]

His face flushed beet-red after she turned around, snapping back to the matter at hand that he was naked, gaping at his body. Without any hesitation, he grabbed onto a few clothes that sprawled on the pile of sacks, covering himself in tremble—at least a small self-preservation in front of a well-known noble among the lands.

A feisty, vicious lady at that.

[I won't eat you.] 

Mystique peeked sideways, a glint of her eyes seen even where Nathalie was at the moment.

[Don't tell me you would wear those skimpy, raggedy clothes of women for the matter?]

"I—" He flinched, blinking at the pile of clothes while covering his groin area. "No—"

[Open the bag.] She stopped her finger, causing him to move alongside her instructions. 

With a zipping sound, he peered at folded fabrics of what was inside of it. His ears perked up from his voluminous yet messy hair, and his tails began to wag in excitement. 

[Do you know how to wear them?]

He stared at her with several nods.

[Verily so, wear them now. Fast.]

In a snap, Keith grabbed the gray cotton tunic and trousers. Out of panic, his limbs still shuddered but kept up with the time pressure. No matter how clumsy he got, he needed to put them on as fast as he could.

For the most part, the clothes were beyond comfortable, in which these fabrics slipped in right and well for him. After that, he tugged his sleeves and waistline to an adjustment before donning the black robe—the draping fabric swung nimbly in the air so chic that it wasn't just a low-quality material. 

However, for Nathalie, she couldn't stop her tears from balling out how cruel and tragic Keith had to go through his years, and a major low point at that was a vile breeder.

A dark side that she didn't know he had, and it gave her a mental breakdown.

Hands rubbed against her cheeks as the freakish words replayed through her mind like a plague.

So cruel, as the best part they claimed was the hung size of his cock alongside his robust physique and angelic face.

Every single one of them lined up for the pleasure. They lost count for what they claimed to be trying to get themselves pregnant from his thick cum that deemed endless supply, they hit and beat him down from the utter frustration they had for he wasn't capable of impregnating them; at the same time, most of them enjoyed the nightmarish sensuality that swathed among the rest.

This alone was traumatizing for Nathalie, contemplating it secondhand, and she couldn't imagine such a thing from Keith himself.

It was hard to swallow the shame for how much she claimed and ended up biting her fingernails as an author.

Meanwhile, Mystique looked back, gazing up and down, before she arched her eyebrow into intriguing heights.  [Now, you look much better with that.] Then pivoted her heel as she strutted her way out. [Follow me.]

However, he was still confused, for he was just in his stead with a glance.

"I beg your pardon, but…"

[Those filthy women? Good riddance. They were already 'taken care of' if you will. Do you want to leave this hell hole or not?]

Without having second thoughts, Keith trudged closely, almost catching behind her trail, and this also made Nathalie follow in the distance.

'I'm so, so happy she came right on time.'

Truthfully so, Nathalie was beyond a wreck for what she witnessed before her. For she only knew the bright, positive background and standing of the favorite character she created. It was beyond a pang that hit her heart—twisted, squeezed, and shredded to pieces simultaneously—and weakened her.

'Is this the part where Mystique and Keith first met?'

With every step, she had palpitations that thumped aloud, almost deafening her for what awaited him.

Nathalie still kept her patience, became vigilant for what was to come as well. 

Around the corner, moving out of the warehouse found at the other side of the corner, she caught the sight of dismembered bodies of women earlier—fresh and nauseating—piling up and feasted upon the flies.

In an instant, she shut her eyes, covering her mouth, as she had a sudden onset of vertigo. If she could retch and gag everything within her, she would've done then and there.

It has been a while since they left off the shoddy warehouse and took the route with fewer people by the street corners and alleyways, up to the higher terrain.

From the rocky path now changed to loam trails amongst lush grasses and shrubs. Arching her neck was the dapple light, dancing among the bough of the verdant canopy beneath them.

Several feet away was a rather spacious area, surrounded by a thicket of woods, and she had no clue what the villainess plotted onwards.

[I came all the way here because I chose you for a specific task you can only do.] When Mystique took a stop, she asked him, [Now that we're here; I'm leaving you no choice.]

"P—Pardon?" His tail curled in between his legs, shuddering in his stance for what she declared.

[You don't have to ask; from now on, you belong to me. Take it or leave it.]

"I—"

[Good! Let's go. I have no time to waste.]

From her grimoire, unfurling the pages, the scribbles on a page manifested a glimmering shape of a broom that was now afloat.

Yet when the conversation went down to what Nathalie anticipated, the floor crumbled and met the inevitable darkness with herself falling so deep she screamed aloud.