Evil MC's NTR Harem - Chapter 874
Chapter 874: Chapter 874 Goal
Muscles bulged where there had been none, and her delicate features sharpened into a strong, masculine visage.
When the transformation completed, the woman was no more—standing in her place was a massive man, exuding power and menace.
It was Brandon, Ross’s most trusted puppet, hidden perfectly under the illusion of innocence.
The men froze, staring in disbelief.
“What… what are you?” one stammered, stepping backward as if the walls themselves might swallow him whole.
“How… how is this possible?” another whispered, eyes wide, shaking his head in denial.
“This… this isn’t real,” a third muttered, his voice trembling. But no denial could undo what they had just seen.
Brandon’s piercing gaze swept over them, each eye burning with lethal intent.
His lips curled into a faint, cruel smile, the kind that promised retribution and suffering.
Then, without warning, the first scream erupted—a guttural, agonized sound that pierced through the wooden walls.
The men instinctively recoiled as screams of pain, fear, and rage merged into a horrifying symphony.
The echoes bounced off the walls, making the small house feel like a chamber of nightmares.
They tried to move, to escape, but the room seemed to close in around them, their panic building with every second.
It was like a music coming from hell itself.
Silence followed the initial chaos, but it was a heavy, suffocating silence, broken only by the ragged breathing of the terrified men.
Their eyes darted around, trying to find any hint of what was real or what could still save them—but all that remained was the chilling presence of Brandon, a man who was no longer who he appeared to be, and a fear they would never forget.
“Get away from us, you monster!” someone shouted in sheer panic as he bolted for the door.
He clawed at the handle desperately, yanking it with all his strength—but it didn’t budge.
It was as if the door had fused with the frame, sealing their fate inside this nightmare.
“Don’t be impatient,” Brandon said calmly, his deep voice dripping with mockery.
“We have all the time in the world.” A slow, sinister smile spread across his face as heavy footsteps echoed behind him.
From the shadows, several towering figures emerged, their faces hidden behind grotesque demon masks.
One by one, they stepped into the dim light until eleven of them stood in a perfect line—the same number as Billy and his friends.
“Shall we begin?” Brandon asked softly, his words carrying the weight of a death sentence.
His eyes locked on Billy, like a predator singling out its prey, and he began to stalk forward with deliberate, measured steps.
Billy’s breath caught in his throat.
He turned and ran, heart pounding, but there was nowhere to go—the windows were barred, the exits sealed.
Behind him, chaos erupted as the masked giants descended on his friends.
The air filled with screams as the men attacked with brutal precision.
Clothes were ripped away in seconds, shredded like paper under the overwhelming force of their hands.
Some of Billy’s friends fought back, swinging fists in wild desperation, but it was useless—their punches landed with dull thuds, as if striking solid stone.
The masked figures didn’t flinch, their inhuman strength turning the struggle into a grotesque game.
Billy stumbled into a corner, chest heaving, his mind screaming for an escape that didn’t exist.
The sound of tearing fabric, broken bones, and anguished cries clawed at his ears, drowning him in terror.
And through it all, Brandon kept walking toward him—slow, relentless, inevitable.
“My master said to pay special attention to you,” Brandon said slowly, his voice as deep and heavy as a tombstone being lowered into place. “Said I should… entertain you for a long time.”
The words slithered into Billy’s ears, and his stomach dropped. His trembling gaze flicked around the room—what he saw made his blood freeze.
His friends were already in hell.
Screams tore through the air as the masked giants restrained them with ease, ripping away what remained of their dignity.
Clothes were shredded like tissue, fists flew in desperate resistance, but it was like punching slabs of steel.
Every thud of a fist against those bodies made it clear: these things weren’t human.
Billy wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.
The sound of tearing fabric mixed with hoarse cries of pain burned into his mind like a brand.
His legs turned to lead, every instinct screaming at him to run—even though he knew there was nowhere to go.
His blood turned cold especially when the big men fucked the asses of his friends.
“Who… who is your master?!” Billy rasped, his voice breaking as he backed into the far corner, eyes wide with terror. “Why are you doing this?!”
Brandon’s grin stretched slowly, like a predator baring its teeth.
His footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor, calm and deliberate, each step hammering Billy’s heart harder than the last.
“It doesn’t matter who he is,” Brandon said at last, tilting his head slightly, his voice almost tender—like a lullaby from hell.
“All you need to think about… is me. And the time we’re about to share.”
Billy’s chest tightened. His breath came in short, shallow gasps, sweat dripping down his forehead as his back pressed against the wall.
His mind clawed for options, but there were none. Every exit was sealed.
The windows, the door—everything was locked tight, as if the house itself had turned into a prison.
I can’t let him touch me… I can’t…
“Stay back!” Billy shouted, though his voice cracked, betraying the raw fear in his soul.
He snatched up a broken chair leg from the floor and held it like a weapon, hands shaking violently.
Brandon stopped and stared at the makeshift weapon, then laughed—a deep, cold sound that filled the room like smoke.
“Good,” Brandon murmured, his grin widening. “Fight me. Struggle. It makes it more… fun.”
Billy’s heart hammered so loudly it drowned out the chaos around him.
His friends were still screaming, begging, crying—but their voices sounded far away now, muffled by the blood rushing in his ears.