Is 'Fucking Our Drunk Passed Out Slut Mother' Based On A True Story?

She found out her ex borrowed loan in her name and used the only house her father gave her as a collateral a day before his death so she let his father fuck her in her mourning dress during his funeral service. She caught her hockey captain boyfriend giving bj to his teammate so she stepped walked up to the principal which was his father and dropped her panties in front of him. Caught her husband of five years dryhumping her sister so she signed the divorce papers and fucked her dad before him while he was forced to watch. Dear Ex, Your Father Fxxked Me Better: Filthy Shorts is a scorching collection of standalone short stories where scorned women turn the ultimate betrayal into their most delicious revenge. After being lied to, cheated on, and discarded like yesterday’s news, these fierce, broken-hearted heroines decide the best way to destroy their exes isn’t violence or drama — it’s pleasure. Raw, forbidden, mind-blowing pleasure in the arms (and bed) of the one man their ex could never compete with: his own father. From the ruthless billionaire patriarch they once feared… to the magnetic silver-fox rival they secretly admired… these older, dominant, dangerously possessive men don’t just give them revenge, they give them passion so intense it rewrites their entire lives. Expect filthy, addictive age-gap erotica packed with power plays, jealous exes losing their minds, family scandals that shake New York’s elite circles, and heroines who walk out of luxurious bedrooms completely transformed — bolder, stronger, and deliciously ruined in the best possible way. Because sometimes, the sweetest revenge isn’t making him cry. It’s making his father moan your name.

My dad is a player. After he succeeds in his conquest mission, he leaves this world… as well as four mothers to me. My first mom is an extremely wealthy CEO. My second mom is supremely famous for her work as the top actress. My third mom has stellar medical skills, whereas my fourth mom holds an authoritative and influential position. My four moms have spent the last 16 years doting on me endlessly. They would give me whatever I want. That is, until three years ago when William Carson, the son of their first love, returns to their lives. Since then, my moms have only trusted him, reserving all their distrust for me. When William accuses me of calling him a bastard filthier than that of a mutt who doesn't have the right to live at home, my moms make me live in a kennel and eat scraps like a true mutt. When William claims that I'm the one taking the lead to bully him at school, my moms decide to make me drop out of school. Then, they hire three delinquents to beat me up at home for three long months. When William tells my moms that I've shoved him once again, my moms lock me up in a cage and starve me for 72 hours straight in hopes that I will learn my lesson. Just when I'm on the brink of dying from starvation, I hear Dad's voice. "Henry, do you want to come back to me?"

My mom is a pathological liar who enjoys making herself seem like the victim. Unfortunately, I'm always the scapegoat. When I was little, there was one time when she went out to play poker with her friends. As a result, she forgot to go home and prepare dinner on time. After that, she slapped me in front of the entire family. "This brat ran off to god knows where earlier! I went out looking for her, which is why dinner got delayed!" Because of that lie, I had to kneel in the courtyard throughout the night. When I was studying, I had to take an extremely important exam. My teacher repeatedly reminded the parents to prepare all materials required for their children. But my mom didn't even prepare anything for me. After that, she even said in front of everyone, "I've already prepared the materials for her. She was the one who threw them away when she was on her way to school because she didn't want to take the exam at all!" Since then, all of my classmates ostracized me throughout my entire school life. After I came of age, my mom kept crying to me in the middle of the night. "Your father has been abusing me for so many years. I had to endure everything for your sake, you know!" I advised her to get a divorce, only for her to tell an exaggerated version of what I said to my father. "Your daughter egged me on to divorce you! She said she doesn't need a useless father like you! I couldn't stand it anymore, so I'm telling you this!" He flew into a fit of rage on the spot, which led to him accidentally pushing me down the stairs. I died on the spot from the fall. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day my mom cries to me about my dad for the first time.

The day my mom was beaten up for being a mistress, I slammed the family crest into my dad’s face. I had been studying abroad, and on my return flight, I came across a video. The title read, [Richest Family’s Heirs Defend Their Mom and Beat Up Mistress.] In the video, my mother was wearing coarse linen clothes while my brothers surrounded her. They were punching and kicking her. They even tore her clothes and cussed her out as a shameless mistress. Her eyes were teary as she desperately tried to explain. However, she was only met with mocking laughter. A stranger in haute couture stood shielded behind them, and she sweetly said, “Alright, I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t need to waste our time on ungrateful people.” The surrounding guests showered her with birthday wishes and praised her for her graciousness. “This is the grace befitting Mrs. Roth! Do some people really not own a mirror at home?” “A mistress dares to call herself Mrs. Roth? Doesn’t she know the entire Roth family was built on her assets? Which part of her looks like a lady?” Hearing them call her “Mrs. Roth,” I clenched my phone, and the screen reflected my icy expression. I had only been away from home for three years. How did I not know that I had acquired such a despicable “mother”?

My mother had a rare disease. After months of dead ends, I found one person in the country who could treat her. She told me there was a price. She said she needed a husband. I agreed. For my mother, I agreed. For six years I was her ATM. I bought her the bags. I bought her the watches. It got worse. She used my money to keep a kept man. She brought him into our bed. The day my mother had her last surgery, she walked out of the operating room halfway through to go celebrate her lover's birthday. The moment they pronounced my mother dead, I decided there and then, she was paying for that with her life.

When I was ten years old, I sold my mother to human traffickers. My father calls me an ungrateful monster, a devil. He sues me 99 times, but each time, I am found not guilty because I am under 14. In the end, on his way to bring my mother home, he is beaten to death by the men in that village. 20 years later, my younger sister finally brings our mother—now unable to walk and mentally unstable—out of the village. She starts a livestream and breaks down in tears. "I beg the internet to put my devil of a sister on trial. Don’t let her get away with this! She destroyed my family. I will make sure she loses everything!" But only I know… My mother deserves it.