Chapter 1: The True Queen of Doomsday Nightclub
Bonnie's POV
"Dear Bonnie, my fiancée, perhaps you can tell me where all these men came from — the one holding your hand, the one with his arm around your waist, the one embracing you from behind?"
My fiancé Nova Cavendish took a deep breath, smiling as he tried to stay calm, but his tightly clenched fists and the veins bulging on his forehead both signaled the turmoil within him.
And I — I, this sinful woman, had no way to explain the current situation. How could I tell him that my seemingly ordinary nightclub could connect to other worlds, and that in each world, I had gotten myself a boyfriend?
Yes, I had not only done exactly that, but I had believed I had the ability to control it all.
But today, this damned space-time passage went completely insane and transported all three of my otherworldly boyfriends here at the same moment.
Dragon Clan Chieftain Electra Dragneel, Elven Sacred Son Orion Almeida, Vampire Prince Helparos Tepes, and my fiancé Nova from my own world, who had just held an engagement ceremony with me — they had all met in this cramped nightclub.
Orion held my hand, our fingers interlocked, his pointed elven ears drooping down pitifully as he spoke almost pleadingly: "My Bonnie, my song of dusk, you said your eyes would only shine for me. Why would your gaze linger on others?"
Electra domineeringly held my waist, his golden beast-like pupils fixed on me, his tone still carrying the pride of the Dragon Clan: "Bonnie, my wife, perhaps you should explain who these men trying to steal you away are. Just nod your head, and I will immediately burn them to ashes with dragon's breath."
Helparos embraced me from behind, his sharp fangs grinding against my neck as he murmured in a low voice, his tone full of dangerous signals: "My little cake, if you can't give me a reasonable explanation, I'll help you make the right choice. As long as I complete the Embrace, you will belong to me forever..."
I took a deep breath and forced out a smile. I knew that at this moment I couldn't pull away from any of these men, or I would face an even greater disaster.
"All right, let me explain first..." My voice trembled slightly. "This all started three months ago..."
Three months ago. Night.
"Bonnie! You're stealing food again!"
This shout scared me so badly I shook all over, and the freshly baked honey bread in my hand rolled off onto the baking tray.
My sister Catherine Davis walked over with Blake Smith's arm in hers. She wrinkled her nose and fanned her hand in front of it, as if my smell was as pungent as garbage from the sewer.
"Bonnie, you're already two hundred pounds. Look at the grease on your face. My God, I bet even the pigs at the feedlot are slimmer than you."
Catherine mocked me with disgust: "I remember Mom has been strictly controlling your diet since last month? But you're actually hiding in the kitchen stealing food! My God, how can you face our good intentions looking like this?"
I said nothing, just bent down to pick up the honey bread from the tray, tore off a small piece and stuffed it in my mouth. It was still so soft and sweet.
Blake, my ex-fiancé who was now Catherine's boyfriend, spoke gently: "Bonnie, you should know we're all doing this for your own good. Your current weight is way over the limit. This will seriously endanger your health. You really can't eat anymore."
The bread suddenly seemed to turn salty. I silently chewed the bread in my mouth, tears flowing down my swollen cheeks into my mouth.
Catherine continued to show off: "Bonnie, if it weren't for you, why would I make such a big sacrifice and sleep with your man? You should know that grief can be turned into motivation. From now on, every time you steal food, I'll have sex with Blake once! Let's see if you dare to steal food again!"
Blake also frowned: "Bonnie, we're talking to you. Can you stop eating!"
Catherine walked forward and snatched the honey bread from my hand, threw it on the floor, and ground it over and over with the sole of her beautiful patent leather high heels: "No more eating! I'll tell Mom that starting today, you can only eat one apple a day!"
Looking at the crushed bread, I finally gathered the courage to lift my head and speak: "I just like to cook and like to eat. I... I don't think I did anything wrong..."
"Smack!"
A loud slap interrupted my defense.
I tilted my head, raised my hand to cover my face, and fell silent again.
Catherine shook her hand delicately and even exaggeratedly rubbed her slender fingers repeatedly with hand sanitizer.
"The grease on your face dirtied my hand!" she shrieked. "Listen, Bonnie, if you dare to make excuses for your food stealing next time, I guarantee what you lose will definitely not be as simple as just a fiancé!"
Catherine dragged Blake away.
I slowly crouched down and picked up the crushed honey bread bit by bit, tears falling heavily onto the floor.
Saying it was all for my health — all excuses!
Mom did it to satisfy her own need for control and to find excuses for her favoritism. Catherine did it to satisfy her pleasure in bullying the weak. And Blake — he just wanted a beautiful and presentable fiancée!
But things weren't like this at the beginning. When I first showed my talent for food, Mom took me everywhere to competitions to earn prize money. She said I was her pride. Catherine used my prize money to attend her aristocratic school and said she would always be grateful to have such a good sister. Blake was extremely fascinated by the dishes I made and even cured his anorexia because of it.
But now, everything had changed.
The oppressive emotions wrapped around me like thick dark clouds — damp, sticky, with tiny lightning bolts constantly stimulating my nerves.
I finally picked up all the crumbs from the floor, stood up and wiped away my tears, closed the door and turned to open the wardrobe, found the bottom drawer, and took out a silver mask and a form-fitting low-cut mini dress.
I was going to indulge myself. I was going to release and explode all my collapsed emotions.
I changed into the short dress, used a curling iron to curl my golden hair into beautiful waves, carefully applied hot and sexy makeup, selected a bright red lipstick and painted my full lips flame-red in the mirror, and finally put on that silver half-face mask.
The woman in the mirror was so hot and sexy. I struck a few poses, winked and blew kisses at the mirror, then turned with a twist of my waist and pushed the door open.
In the dim, cramped nightclub, young men and women were twisting their bodies freely to the rhythm of the music on the dance floor. Here, no matter whether the customers had lovers, what profession they had, or whether they were dignified during the day, they would all release all their repression and desire.
And I had come here for exactly this reason.
"Whoa!" The DJ shouted loudly on stage, and the speakers burst out with the strongest beat: "Welcome the true queen of Doomsday Nightclub, the sexiest big beautiful woman, Layla!"
A beam of light illuminated above my head as I slowly appeared in the center of the dance floor on the rising platform. The crowd erupted in screams and cheers. These most repressed perverts couldn't wait to see my dance.
I slowly twisted my waist following the rhythm. The low-cut mini dress outlined my fat yet curvaceous figure. My proud, towering chest and plump, fleshy long legs caused a frenzy of perverts with every shake.
Men stretched their arms hard and raised their big hands to caress and knead my thighs, even leaving red fingerprints on my delicate skin. They desperately desired me. I could fully feel it.
Only at times like this could the oppressive pain in my heart be released.
The pounding music continued. When I finally squeezed out of the dance floor, my shoulder straps had already fallen to my arms, my full breasts were half exposed, and you could even see a bit of pink areola.
Yes, the exposed parts of my body were almost all covered with red fingerprints, clearly having just had a wild and satisfying revelry with the perverts.
Putting on the long bathrobe handed over by the bartender, I sat at the booth by the entrance, sipping wine and resting.
At this moment, the nightclub door was pushed open, and the wind chimes hanging on the door jingled with beautiful music.
A man wearing white robes with pointed elven ears walked in.
