Monster Breeding Academy: From begger to Beast Queen
“You don’t graduate from Monster Cock Academy unless you can swallow every inch, milk it dry, and leave the monster begging to be your bitch.”
Those were the exact words growled at me the second I crossed the blood-red threshold—starving, filthy, and still reeking of alleyways I’d fucked strangers in just to eat.
Let’s be real: everyone knows what this place really is.
Not some noble academy for spells and swords.
It’s a breeding ground for the biggest, thickest, most cursed monster cocks in existence—dragon-princes with ridged, scalding shafts that burn going in, demonic rogues whose veiny lengths pulse with shadow-magic cum, feral warriors whose girthy knots lock you in until you’re dripping and claimed.
I was supposed to be invisible. A street-rat beggar with flat tits, no curves, no power, no fucking chance.
Then the Lysander brothers saw me.
Reign Lysander—silver-haired dragon heir—locked eyes and I felt his cock twitch behind his armor like it already knew it belonged down my throat.
Ryder Lysander—that smirking demon fuck—leaned in so close I could taste the sin on his breath, whispering how he’d stretch my holes until I screamed his name in tongues.
Xavier Lysander—raw, black-haired beast—growled low enough to vibrate my clit, promising to knot me so deep I’d never walk straight again.
They didn’t just want to fuck me.
They wanted to ruin me.
Break me open.
Fill me until I overflowed with their seed and their loyalty.
Too bad for them—I’m not prey.
I’m the one who makes monster cocks throb, leak, and kneel.
The one who rides their faces, their shafts, their knots until they’re whimpering “Queen” between gasps.
Rival houses are already sharpening blades to gut me.
Ancient beasts are waking up hard and hungry.
And these three alphas?
They’re fighting over who gets to breed me first… while I’m secretly planning how to chain all three of their fat, cursed cocks to my throne.
From beggar slut to Beast Queen.
One dripping, screaming, cum-soaked claiming at a time.
Survive the semester?
I won’t just graduate.
I’ll have them all collared, leaking, and worshipping at my feet.