Beastman Mga Nobela at Kwento

The beast was twice the height of a muscular man she’d ever seen—with a bone crest, four split jaws that open like a flower of fangs. ​His eyes had no pupils, only pits of endless night that could reflect my deepest fear. His body was covered in jagged obsidian scales and raw muscles; bone plates protruded like armor from his spine and limbs. Her hand flew to her mouth as she took a step back at the sight of his claws, long enough to pierce through her body in one swipe. Fear clawed in Kaerith's chest as her fingers shakily found the simple ties at her waist and loosened them.

His claws trembled at my throat, caught between killing and clinging. And then, with a sound like glass shattering, Zara’s last thread anchored into his spine. Her body went limp, crumpling into the mud, but it was enough. Maxim reeled back, the Beast howling in defiance. His roar wasn’t human. It wasn’t Hollow. It was something in between, split down the center, fractured but still holding. But when his gaze caught mine again, I knew which side still lived. The Beast didn’t know my name—but Maxim did.

I asked them. “Hey, pussy,” the burly man muttered again. I gasped in pain when he grabbed my hand, his fingers sinking into my skin. “Keep breathing those punchable names and I’ll have you on your knees with my balls deep in your tight hole—” “Wheeler, that’s Beast.” The guy with an ink on the arm said. The man named Wheeler halted, his hand loosening but did not let go. “What did you say?” “Beast. She wants Beast.”

Witch! "Just pull off all your clothes and hand them over to us". Lilly's mother said. I removed my clothes slowly. After staying stark naked, for what seemed so long, we heard a loud and powerful howl. It was Damian, he was obviously, the first person among us all to shift.

"Berserker needs to eat." Knowing I should just leave it alone, I asked the question. "Berserker?" Asher gave me a toothy smile. "My bear: Berserker. Your tiger is Junior. Taryk's panther is Smoke. Atlas' wolf is Mr. Hyde. Ransom is Tonto. And Saint is Ten." He made a face at the last man. "You took all my fun by already having a name for your inner beast." "Thank Gaia for that," Saint said.

Male beastmen were divided into four distinct ranks from birth: S, A, B, and C. The higher the rank, the more noble the male was considered. Among them, C-rank beastmen were the most common, B-rank beastmen were considered valuable, and A-rank could be described as exceptionally rare. As for the S-rank, even the elderly Gideon had never witnessed one in his entire life. Females were outnumbered by males here; though they relied on the males for protection, their social status was significantly higher. A female's status depended entirely on reproduction to elevate herself.

Most of it I ignored. Until I reached cell 47. He was already standing at the bars waiting for me. Damien Voss. Thirty-two. Six-foot-four, built like a fucking tank — thick muscle, arms covered in prison tattoos, chest broad enough to block the whole cell door. Shaved head, cold gray eyes, and a scar running from his left eyebrow down to his jaw. He had been inside for life on multiple murders. Everyone called him “The Beast.” He smiled slow when I stopped in front of his cell. It was not a friendly smile.

"And I think you're attracted to me too." The beast chuckled, a low rumble that resonated through me. "You're a bold one," it growled, its eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and desire. "Very well, little one." With a swift motion, the beast reached down and undid its belt, letting its pants fall to the ground. My eyes widened as I saw its massive cock spring free, standing tall and proud. It was thick and veiny, pulsing with a life of its own, and I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and nervousness.

Of course Christopher Henry Jameson—also known as Beast- wasn't the average man. He stood 6'5" and weighed three hundred and two pounds. He didn't like the extra three pounds. He rather liked being in the two hundred weight range even if it was by just one or two pounds. Regardless, there wasn't an ounce of fat on his perfect body. Beast was muscles on top of muscles, yet not hulking like some of the others that worked in the Marine Corps division assigned to The Department of Home Land Security, or better known as DHS. Too big made you slow. He'd seen guys bigger than him hospitalized during the CRUCIBLE training.

He answered. His words made total sense. As simple as he looked, he was wise and very accurate with his intuitions. "So what's your decision father. We both know that when you cross the damn river there is no point of return." I reminded him. "Damon, That Beast is searching for a breeder. A bond and mate. If luckily Hera proves herself worthy and its instinct is drawn fully to her, it won't harm her. I don't want to think the worst that's why I still have a ray of hope that she is still alive and being kept well." He answered.