I didn't know what smelled worse—my damp fur still clinging to seawater, or the pile of rotting fish guts I'd been using as a blanket for the last three nights.
Spoiler alert: it was me.
Turns out, crashing into a beach with no money, no crew, and no plan is less "epic isekai adventure" and more "feral beast squatting near government property."
But I wasn't stupid.
I think.
At the very least, I knew where I was.
Punk Hazard.
Vegapunk's house of horrors. Birthplace of cyborgs, clones, and whatever the hell Caesar Clown called "scientific ethics." The whole place practically screamed "plot device." Giant steel walls. Surveillance towers with red blinking eyes. The sound of steam vents hissing like angry snakes.
This island wasn't a side quest. It was a main story waiting to happen.
And me? I was about to be the main character.
So I stopped lurking in the dunes like a hungry raccoon and did what every reincarnated genius (read: weirdo) with a superiority complex does:
I infiltrated like the Leopard I am
⸻
It started with a drone.
A fat little orb the size of a basketball that zipped down the same flight path every morning at 6:42 AM sharp carrying what looked like crates of supplies, heading toward a recessed panel carved into a southern cliffside. I watched it for two mornings, noting the pattern, speed, and altitude. It didn't notice me, which made sense. I looked like a wet leopard who'd lost a fight with a trash can.
But on Day Three?
I was ready.
I'd spent the night sharpening my claws on a boulder, practicing electro through my fingertips like I was learning chakra control, and whispering motivational quotes like, "You're not filler, you're fire," into a cracked seashell.
Then, just as the buzz of its hover engines reached my ears, I leapt.
Straight out of the sand, like a landmine with attitude. I tackled that poor flying bastard out of the sky mid-hover, claws ripping through its shell like tissue paper.
BOOM.
Metal shards scattered.
Sirens wailed.
A crate went flying and cracked open against a rock with a heavy THUNK.
I stared at the contents, wide-eyed.
Bananas.
Dozens of them.
But not just any bananas. Some looked…weird. Spiraled skins. Strange auras. One was glowing. One looked like it had gills.
I didn't care. I was starving. Possibly hallucinating. Definitely unhinged.
So I dove in.
Banana one: Tasted like burnt licorice.
Banana two: Tasted like regret and floor cleaner.
Banana three: Tasted like battery acid soaked in baby powder, topped with unicorn piss and betrayal.
I choked. Gagged. Dropped the half-eaten thing. Then the world shifted.
⸻
My hands tingled. My tail twitched. My fur bristled.
And for a moment, I could hear my own heartbeat through my ears like echo-location sonar.
I stood still. The world warped around the edges like a badly rendered anime filter. Then a flash of instinct hit me like a baseball bat to the soul.
I had eaten the Clone-Clone Fruit.
Somehow I just knew—the knowledge dropped into my brain like an update patch.
Anything I touch… can be copied.
My heart pounded harder.
Like any self-respecting lunatic with anime delusions, I did the only rational thing—
I snatched up the half-eaten fruit and finished it. Gagging, wheezing, sobbing. But committed.
"Too late to back out now."
I stood and stared at my hand.
Still there.
Test time.
I touched the wall of the crate.
Poof.
Now there were two identical crate panels, sitting side by side like polite twins.
I touched a banana.
Poof.
Now I had two bananas.
My breath caught. I touched my sandal.
Poof.
Two sandals.
Still only one foot in each, but I wasn't complaining.
"YO."
My eyes gleamed. My claws flexed. My inner One Piece nerd screamed in joy.
This wasn't just some lame fruit.
This was endgame material.
Duplication? That was god-tier utility. I could duplicate Devil Fruits. Weapons. Supplies. Clothes. People.
If I played my cards right, I could become a walking factory of chaos.
Final boss arc, unlocked.
⸻
Three minutes later, I was buried in cloned bananas, sitting in the wreckage of the drone like a gremlin in a banana hoard.
I'd duplicated everything I could get my hands on.
Hoodies? Cloned.
Fish-gut blanket? Cloned. (Then burned. Immediately.)
Socks? Cloned. Too many times. The pile became self-aware and tried to strangle me.
Okay, minor setback.
But there were limits. The more I cloned something, the more unstable it got. Too many copies of the same thing and they either fizzled out, turned gooey, or exploded.
"So… rules exist. Noted."
But that didn't kill the vibe.
No.
It made the experiment better.
I touched my teeth. Nothing.
Tried my hair. Static.
Then my eyes landed on my tail.
Golden-furred. Rosette-covered. Flicking in irritation. Twitching with energy.
I tilted my head.
"I mean… it's part of me. But what if…"
I hesitated.
Then grinned.
"Only one way to find out."
I crouched, focused, and gently touched the base of my tail.
POP.
There was a suction-y fwoomp like a toilet plunger mating with a balloon animal.
And then—
Two tails.
I. Screamed.
Like a banshee with ADHD.
"OH MY GOD I'M EVOLVING"
Both tails twitched. Then curled. Then slapped the crate wall in unison.
"I'M A FUCKING POKÉMON!!!"
I ran in circles, tails flailing behind me like happy flags.
I grabbed a banana and flung it into the wall with one tail. The other whipped around and snatched a backup before it hit the ground.
Dual-tail combat. This was real.
This was power.
My ears twitched at satellite frequencies. My claws sparked with electro.
I looked around the wreckage of crates, mangled tech, and cloned bananas with pure, gleaming joy.
"Vegapunk, hide your blueprints."
"This Beast Daddy just got his first power-up."
⸻
Suddenly, something beeped.
A red light on one of the busted drone fragments flashed three times.
Then a voice crackled through the debris.
"Inbound response unit—ETA ninety seconds."
I froze.
Shit.
Security bots.
I peeked over the edge of the crate. In the distance, I could already see metal shapes moving between trees like silent assassins.
"Welp," I said, grabbing a cloned hoodie and yanking it on.
I stuffed two bananas into my pocket and looked down at my double tails.
They were both wagging.
"…Please be permanent," I muttered, then grinned. "If you are, we're making this fashion."
I took off at a sprint, tails whipping behind me like battle flags, disappearing into the jungle.
Behind me, the cleanup squad would find nothing but scorched crates, banana guts, and the outline of a lunatic in the dirt.
But me?
I was gone.
Moving.
Plotting.
Growing stronger.
And this world—this beautiful, broken sandbox of possibilities—had no idea what was coming.
Souza D. Jagger had entered the game.
⸻
Author's Note:
Yo! First off, thanks for reading the prologue and Chapter 1 of Beast Daddy. I'm writing this for fun, chaos, and to see how far I can push this cracked concept, but your feedback genuinely helps a lot. Got thoughts? Favorite moments? Confused why he has two tails now? Drop a comment! I read everything and wanna make this wild ride even better with y'all. Appreciate the support—let's break canon together. 🐾🔥and remember Dreams Never Die😉😜
— Author