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Sci-fi Stories

Pampered By The Cold Panther Alpha

Pampered By The Cold Panther Alpha

5.0
Sci-fi Shangyou Fusu

I survived ten years of a brutal, flesh-tearing apocalypse on Earth, only to wake up in a damp, alien jungle. Before I could even catch my breath, a squad of heavily armed men ripped the glowing core out of a truck-sized mantis monster. Then, one of them shifted into a massive, two-headed black hound and cornered me against a tree. My energy reserves were completely dry. Facing a team of elite, beast-shifting predators, a direct fight was absolute suicide. So, I suppressed every ounce of my S-class killing intent, huddled in the dirt, and forced my eyes to well up with terrified tears. I expected to be interrogated or killed on the spot. Instead, the moment they caught my scent, the ruthless killers froze in utter shock, their hostility vanishing into thin air. "A wild female..." They whispered the words like I was a priceless, fragile artifact. I quickly learned the absurd truth of this universe: females were incredibly rare, powerless treasures worshipped and protected by powerful beast-men. Without missing a beat, I clutched my head and faked a flawless case of amnesia. I played the helpless victim, letting their terrifying, notoriously untouchable alpha leader carry me to his starship, secure my legal citizenship, and hand me the keys to a luxury villa along with a hundred million credits. After a decade of fighting for scraps, I finally had a ticket to a perfect, pampered life. Now, I just have to make sure these overprotective men never find out about the world-destroying power dormant inside me.

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The Wife They Buried: Now Watch Her Rise

The Wife They Buried: Now Watch Her Rise

5.0
Sci-fi Cun Li

My experimental cure for a degenerative neurological disease had a bizarre requirement: "positive emotional resonance." Love was a luxury my family never afforded me. My twin Jessica, my parents David and Linda, and even my husband Mark, bled me dry, taking credit for my genius. The Phoenix Foundation announced my therapy was failing: seven days until my death. Still, they demanded more. Parents needed me to fix Jessica's buggy app for a funding round. Mark required elaborate legal strategies for his career. My talent, always theirs. My head throbbed, my body failing, but they saw only annoyance, demanding I work. Jessica feigned illness, then brazenly demanded IP rights to my groundbreaking app. Mark, dismissing my imminent death as "dramatics," framed me for Jessica' s hit-and-run, securing my forced committal-a painful death sentence. He even injected me with a lethal dose. My ultimate betrayal came when Jessica brutally attacked me with shears, and Mark, seeing my bleeding face, still prioritized her comfort. Lying there, bleeding and abandoned, a cold clarity dawned: they would never change. My life, a relentless sacrifice, was ending in torment. Why did they always break me, only to demand more? But then, a whisper from the Foundation: "Protocol transition." "Karmic Retribution Resonance." Not death, but a second chance. Not for love, but for their regret. I would become Anna Hayes, an architect of their downfall, finally taking back what was mine.

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His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth

His Twisted Game, Her Rebirth

5.0
Sci-fi Luo Chengfeng

The fluorescent hum of the deserted office was my constant companion, a symphony to my late-night grind as an architect, building dreams one blueprint at a time. Then, out of nowhere, text shimmered in the air, a chilling heads-up display only I could see: "[Target acquired: The Architect. She' s working late again. Perfect.]" My blood ran cold as more lines appeared, taunting me with plans for a "Chivalry Challenge" at a $5,700 prize. It finally clicked-Mark Johnson, that slimy social media influencer who' d turn women' s fear into profit, had found me. He came, smooth as ever, with a drugged coffee, mocking me while I fought through a fogged mind, my desperate calls for help swallowed by his practiced lies to the security guard. My brothers came back for me, their faces illuminated by flashing lights, my last-ditch effort to crash his car paying off just as I succumbed to the drug. But the nightmare wasn' t over; Mark walked free, his lawyer spinning tales of my "manic episodes," leaving my brother Chris to face assault charges for defending me. The injustice burned, fueling a rage that cleared the haze: he wouldn't win, not if I could help it. "This isn't over," I declared, my voice steady, eyes fixed on my brothers, ready to dismantle his empire. Then Michael sent me the link-Mark' s new video, painting me as the aggressor, a "crazy" woman. Scrolling through the venomous comments, one caught my eye: "DesignDiva88," my colleague Lisa Chen, claiming she' d told him to "back off." She was complicit, a willing accessory, and with that, I knew exactly how to begin.

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Their Betrayal, Her Billions

Their Betrayal, Her Billions

5.0
Sci-fi Jiuye Fenglin

My world was a bland digital prison, my consciousness shunted into OmniVerse after their "Full Dive VR Consciousness Upload" experiment went belly-up, leaving me stuck in a hideous default avatar. I streamed as SeraphSix, a voice of calm in the chaos, but I was constantly battling the insidious rumors calling me a "catfish" and a fraud. Rival streamer JessiByte, more cleavage than content, fanned those flames, and "KevlarKing," my biggest tipper, arrogantly challenged me to turn on my face cam for a pathetic five hundred dollars, clearly wanting to impress her and humiliate me. He'd even stooped to leaking a blurry, out-of-context screenshot of my plain default avatar, trying to make me look bad. The constant accusations, fueled by their jealousy and entitlement, were draining. Living as merely a voice behind a mask, fighting off attacks from those who sought to expose me as a "fraud" because my forced avatar didn't match the allure they imagined from my voice and intellect, felt like a constant insult to my true self. My real life had been about beauty and presence; this default skin was a torment, and the whole situation entirely unfair, festering with cold anger. Why was I stuck fighting in this superficial world that judged only surface, while my intellectual contributions were dismissed? Why did they so desperately want to expose a "plainness" that wasn't even mine? Just as I prepared to end another exhausting stream, a private notification from the System flashed: "Host compensation protocol initiated. Restitution package available. Replicate original biometric signature onto current avatar?" My breath caught. My real face. The one I thought I' d lost forever. The game was about to change.

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The Game of Power

The Game of Power

5.0
Sci-fi Anywho

Chloe Sterling was crying again, the 'Live Feed' above her head branding her 'Heartbroken_And_Clueless.' She was my ticket out of the Rust Belt, but her secret pregnancy with a powerful senator made her a liability. My jaw tightened. Poverty taught me to cut away anything that dragged me back down. I didn't hesitate. I dealt with the senator, making it look like a tragic accident. I manipulated the scandal, stepped into Chloe's shoes, married Liam Vance, and turned him into my puppet. I thought I'd won, untouchable in my new empire. My naive project, Chloe, found a new 'friend,' Ben. I warned her. But when I found her bruised, a rage unlike any calculation took over. This was personal. I tracked Ben down. It was brutal, quick. But as I stood over his body, Grandma Esther and Liam appeared. They knew everything, had evidence. My empire teetered. Their solution: frame Chloe, the fragile heiress, for Ben's death. My Chloe – the girl I'd used, yet somehow cared for. Before I could process the monstrous demand, Chloe stepped in. She'd heard. 'Don' t. Not for me.' Then, in a heartbreaking act of self-sacrifice, she jumped. But as grief threatened to consume me, a chilling message flashed across my 'Live Feed': 'Welcome, Ava, to the Next Level.' My life, this rise to power – all a 'narrative,' a 'test.' They offered a reset. All memories, all experiences, retained. Clutching Chloe's worn worry stone, I chose to go back. I'm twelve again, in the Rust Belt. But this time, I know the game. I'm ready to play it differently.

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