Monster Synthesis Master - Chapter 1012

Standalone stories exploring bondage sex, dominance and submission, captivating power dynamics, threesome, multifuck and rape. Indulge in your wildest dreams, brought to life on every page :)

Through the pirate world, I can resurrect the dead and get one of its abilities.

It is said that pirates are immortal, I want to see, in addition to Roger, which other unlucky person has been written to death.

Luffy: “My brother is dead, I never won a game against him when I was a kid.”

Zoro: “My girlfriend died, and I never won a game against her when I was a kid.”

Sanji: “You still have a girlfriend? Ah, my mother died of illness.”

Usopp: “My mother died too.”

Nami: “It’s good to die, my mother was killed.”

Robin: “It’s okay, my mother was killed too.” Everyone: “???”

Whitebeard: “Zefa, I didn’t expect you to die. I was killed by your disciple. My son made up the knife. Who killed you?”

Zefa: “I was killed by my disciple! Let’s go get revenge together!”

Whitebeard: “Yes, but let’s fight first!”

The most chaotic confession in the pirate world..

- Description from novelbuddy

An ordinary high school boy named Max is in his basement watching porn and masturbating. When suddenly, a pop-up ad covered the whole screen!

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.