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Did I Seriously Reincarnated As A Gag Character

How Did I End Up as a Monster Breeder?

The New World, The Frontier, Manifest Destiny, Whatever you call it I will tell you one thing, it’s none of that. This land an untouched and uncharted territory of the world that would better be called a cursed land, Demon Territory, a Monster Paradise, and to me? A Death Trap. Why am I here? it’s very simple. Debt Not my Debt mind you, no no it was all from my worthless parents who decided to sell me off to debt collectors to stave off their debts they had made ever since I left home. And it only worked out because I was born with a rare skill of making me a natural born Monster Breeder and Tamer. Monster Products make plenty of money in this world, Holstarus Milk, Griffin Feathers, Dragon Scales, Arachne Silk, Harpy Eggs, Goblin Ale, Ork Testicles, just to name a few. And Monster Breeders can make loads of money and that’s what I’m forced into doing but not back in the Old World but here in this new world as new species and possibly extinct species of monsters can be located in this New World. So I’m forced to make a profit for them to pay off my debt or else I’ll have to pay the consequences by going through the pain and suffering of Torture since getting a new Monster Breeder would be to hard to find again. But by hook or by Crook I am going to get my freedom and get the hell out of this Death Trap I find myself in! Male, Female, Futanari, Tomboy, Femboy, various types and genders will be in this story though it’s mostly just Men and Women as all the other types are considered Rare in this story.
OneMoreScore · 36.1K Views

REINCARNATED AS A MOVIE DIRECTOR

Vincent Caine, a washed-up movie director whose career collapsed under the weight of his own unfulfilled ambition, awakens in a void — a pitch-black theater where the only spotlight is fixed on his own sweating, broken face. The laughter of an unseen audience echoes around him, sharp and unnatural, twisting his pain into their entertainment. His memories are gone, save for a single truth: his name. A booming voice — equal parts ringmaster and executioner — congratulates Vincent on his "win." The prize? A new life. Not because of talent or purpose, but a simple roll of the dice. He is to inhabit the body of another heartbroken indie director, recently felled by a heart attack, his corpse held in unnatural suspension. As Vincent's consciousness spirals through the emerald vortex of his forced rebirth, the lines between performance and reality blur. The faceless crowd’s laughter follows him like a haunting score. Memories that are not his begin to surface — the indie director’s unfinished scripts, his fears, his distant relationships. But Vincent’s own past remains a blank canvas, gnawed at by a presence that seems to slither through his mind. What awaits him in this new life is more than just another chance at directing — it's a waking nightmare of fabricated success and lingering failure. Every interaction feels staged, every relationship like a hollow performance. The question isn't just who Vincent will become in this borrowed life — it's what dark hand is pulling the strings behind the curtain, orchestrating this surreal second act. And the ever-present, unnatural laughter? It never stops. Because the show must go on.
NOE_LOUP_69 · 2K Views
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