Independence Face Slapping Short Stories & Novels

On my first day at the villa, the production team hands me a mission card. I read it. "Welcome to 'Where's the Straight Guy?', a reality show where 12 male contestants will be living together for one month. Only one of them is straight, while the others are gay. Every week, two people will be voted out. If the hidden straight guy makes it to the end, he'll win ten million dollars." I'm at a loss for words for a few seconds after I finish reading. Then, I look up at the director. "Your team does know what the words 'male contestant' mean, right?" The director looks me over—my short hair, black hoodie, chest hidden under a sports bra, and my five-foot-nine height—then checks the application form. He rattles off, "Alex Callahan, male. A 26-year-old freelancer." I'm rendered speechless again. Lovely. I see the problem now.

I marry Mason Longbright, my savior, at 24. For five years, Mason's erectile dysfunction and bipolar disorder keep us from ever sleeping together. He can't satisfy me when I want him, so he uses toys on me instead. But during his manic episodes, his touch turns into torment, leaving me bruised and broken. On my birthday night, I catch Mason in bed with another woman. Skin against skin, Mason drives into Amy Becker with a rough, ravenous urgency, his desire consuming her like a starving beast. Our friends and family are shocked, but no one is more devastated than I am. And when Mason keeps choosing Amy over me at home, I finally decide to let him go. I always thought his condition kept him from loving me, but it turns out he simply can't get it up with me at all. I book a plane ticket and instruct my lawyer to deliver the divorce papers. I am determined to leave him. To my surprise, Mason comes looking for me and falls to his knees, begging for forgiveness. But this time, I choose to treat myself better.

On our fifth anniversary, Alpha Liam gave me nothing more than a simple pack mark of protection. That same night, he held a bonding ceremony with his first love, the she-wolf Seraphina. I refused to accept it. He accused me of being irrational. “My bonding with Seraphina is for the future of the pack, not because I still have feelings for her.” “You’re only human. Shouldn’t my pack’s mark be enough? This was your final test, Elena, and you’ve failed.” I walked away. And he turned around and proposed to Seraphina. Five years later, we met again at an exclusive hotel designated by the Alpha Council. His pack was on the verge of becoming a major power, and he had Seraphina, draped in a moonlight silk gown, on his arm. When he saw me, covered in sand and standing ankle-deep in the hotel’s ornamental fountain, he frowned. “Elena,” he scoffed. “You looked down on my protection back then. Look at you now. I bet you can’t find a single pack in this city willing to take in a human.” “And don’t think this pathetic display will make me take you back.” I ignored him. My cub’s treasured moonstone, a gift he’d found while combing the beach, had slipped into the fountain. The little guy was beside himself, and I had to find his precious amulet.

After three years together, my boyfriend, Walker Ashford, proposed. But right after that, he got cold feet. At our wedding photo shoot, Walker buried his face against my best friend Anna Benedict's shoulder. "The way Valentina looks at me freaks me out," he said. At the jewelry shop, he grabbed Anna's hand and refused to let go. None of it made sense. But my future mother-in-law, Judith Ashford, pulled me aside. "Valentina, why not let Anna take your place in the photos? We can put you in later." Walker's sister, Emma Ashford, pushed Anna forward. "She has better taste. Let her pick the ring for you." I swallowed my hurt and watched in silence as they took my wedding photos and picked out my ring for me. Under the lights, the diamonds glittered so brightly they hurt my eyes. I was about to postpone the wedding when I overheard Judith say to my best friend, "Anna, having Walker pretend to get cold feet was a smart move. Otherwise, how could you two have a wedding of your own without Valentina finding out?" Emma curled her lip. "Valentina is an idiot. She believes everything we tell her." Walker sighed and stroked Anna's hair. "Anna is sick. It's her wish to marry me. If Valentina weren't so controlling, I wouldn't have to keep this wedding a secret from her. Anna gets the wedding. Valentina gets the legal marriage. Sounds fair to me." So that was it. Walker had never gotten cold feet. They had made up the whole thing to fool me. I was done with their lies. I decided to return to Florence and take back my life as a mafia princess. "Dad, I'll marry whoever you choose."

In order to prioritize saving a girl who needs to undergo a kidney transplant, I've gone to the bank to deal with the transaction. Judith Smith, the lady working at the counter keeps making my life difficult, though. "How can you prove that your funds are legal? Also, how can you prove that you are an employee of this charity organization?" "These are the documents that I've prepared according to the regulations that can prove the funds' sources. Here's my work ID and my driver's license. My photos are shown here." Judith merely glances at the identification documents before raising an eyebrow. "You don't look anything like the photos at all!" Since I'm in a hurry, I rush back to the organization and quickly get all the paperwork regarding my identity settled. I initially thought that I could finally transfer the check to the hospital. But that's when Judith speaks up lightly. "I refuse to go through this procedure." Furious, I decide to lodge a complaint about Judith. But she has the audacity to post about me on the Internet. There, she paints me as a rude customer who not only deliberately makes things difficult for her, but I apparently also refuse to comply with the standard procedures. Later on, the sick girl's prioritization gets canceled due to how crazy the public backlash has become. Just when I'm no longer in a hurry to transfer the payment to the hospital, Judith is the one panicking about the situation instead.

My online boyfriend dropped a bomb on me the day before freshman orientation day. He had been playing dice with a group of friends and lost a bet. Apparently, I was the prize. Before I could even figure out whether he was joking, he added me to a gaming group chat packed with more than a hundred people. The announcement at the top had already been changed. "Congratulations, Oliver! You just won yourself a 200-pound girlfriend!" A few seconds later, someone posted an old high school photo of me. It was a picture of me in my loose school uniform. As I was at nearly 200 pounds, my neck had practically disappeared into my shoulders. The chat instantly erupted. "Holy shit! That's not a girlfriend. That's a pig in human form." "A bet's a bet. Oliver, you have to do the couple challenge with her tomorrow." The jokes only got worse from there. Before long, someone even started a betting pool over whether I would have the nerve to show up the next night. My own boyfriend threw 10,000 at me and then backed out. "Don't blame me, man. You rolled a six. You won her fair and square." Oliver, the guy who had supposedly won me, stayed completely silent. Then, the girl everyone in the freshman group had already crowned the hottest girl on campus suddenly tagged me. "Lauren, you're coming tomorrow night, right?" I watched message after message fill the screen. Then, I smiled. They had no idea that I had spent the past several months preparing for the day I finally met my boyfriend in person. I was no longer the girl in that photo. I had gone from 200 pounds to 110. I'd been stopped by plenty of guys over the past two months. I'd gotten so many men asking for my number in the past couple of months than I had during the first 18 years of my life combined. None of the people laughing in that chat knew any of that. And I… Well, I didn't see the need to explain myself. Instead, I quietly put 3,000 on myself. My bet was simple. I would show up exactly on time. The entire group chat went crazy the moment they saw it. Mocking comments, jokes, and laughing emojis flooded the screen. I didn't say anything, letting their jeers fill the screen. Then, I sent one final message. "A bet's a bet."

Luna Smith was a famous tarot reader. When Dean Stark and I were going to register our marriage, she flashed three cards, saying that marrying this day would ruin his destiny and fortunes. Dean promptly called it off, and told me to wait a couple of days… which ended up being five years. When I got pregnant, she said that the child would be a jinx to its father, and I was hence forced to get an abortion… on four different occasions. When my mother was diagnosed with liver cancer, I begged Dean for $200,000 on my knees. Even before Dean said a word, Luna frowned and said, "Your mother and her family are jinxed. If the money changes hands, Dean's career will be over." Dean sighed as he pushed me away. "Death is inevitable. Just accept it." I finally went hysterical, but Luna slapped me across the face. "You're being hounded by jinxes. That's why things aren't going well for Dean lately!" Then, blushing as she turned to Dean, she said, "Just sleep with me once, and let your male vigor erupt to blow away the jinxes. That's the only way." Everyone else promptly told me to be understanding and think of the big picture, while Dean himself said, "I swear—this will happen only once, and I will close my eyes the whole time. "We will marry once it's over. You've waited a long time for this, right?" Hence, he scooped Luna up in his arms and strode into our bedroom. As everyone else laughed and cheered, I quietly left and took out my phone, texting the famous demon king ruling the city, "We should register our marriage today, as it says in the cards. Are you coming?"

My dormmate falls in the dorm and sends the rest of us the hospital bill. She wants us to compensate her. "I only fell because you guys left a puddle of water at the door. It's only right that you compensate me, don't you think? It's not much—you each just have to give me a thousand dollars to cover the checkup, medication, transport, the classes I missed, and the mental distress I suffered." I exchange looks with my two other dormmates. All three of us politely decline. That's when she goes berserk. She screeches threateningly, "Do you know who my father is? I'll make sure you guys can't graduate if you don't compensate me!"

Castellora, Santoria. "You're the illegitimate daughter. So what does that make your kid?" Dante Locatelli looked at the pregnancy test in my hand. I froze. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Means he's illegitimate too, babe." Before I could even breathe, he kept going. "You're my side chick now. I'm marrying your sister. She's the real Ambrosi daughter. She actually fits my life." "What about me? What about our baby?" He lifted a brow, that cocky little smirk sliding onto his face. "If you can be illegitimate, why can't he?"

By year's end, I'd closed a huge deal and snagged a $2.5 million bonus. The company even sent me on early maternity leave—nice perk for being eight months pregnant. Pauline found me lounging on the couch. "Why aren't you at work?" I cracked a joke. "Got fired. Guess I'll be stuck here playing housewife." Her response? A slap across my back. "Then get off and do the laundry! You're having a girl, not a son, and you think you can sit around like some princess?" My husband, Logan, walked in right then. He just pulled her into the nursery. Feeling hurt, I switched on the hidden cameras I'd secretly installed. I thought maybe he'd defend me. Yeah, no. What I uncovered? It was so much worse. Twisted secret after twisted secret.

On the country's most popular live television show, if a death row inmate received forgiveness from the victim's family, they would not be executed. The camera focused on a young man behind a set of steel bars. "Vance Hester. Diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Committed six murders in six months. Currently awaiting execution." The host turned toward the audience. "Our producers contacted the families of every victim in the hope that they might be willing to give him a second chance." But all six families refused to forgive him. They demanded that he pay for his crimes with his life. As the tension mounted, Greyson Reynolds, the eldest son of the Reynolds family and a special guest on the show, spoke calmly, "Letting your emotions dictate your decisions is ridiculous. What good does killing him do? It won't bring anyone back. You might as well be the bigger person and show some mercy." He paused before adding, "Besides, there's always more to the story. Are we really supposed to believe the victims were completely innocent?" Beside him, Melanie Reynolds wore an expression of profound sympathy. "Everyone makes mistakes. How can we condemn someone to death over a single mistake?"

When the conglomerate's heir parachutes into our company, he conveniently brings along a "poor student" he's been sponsoring for years. That afternoon, they turn the entire office upside down. The young heir, Matthew Zohart, has no idea how to handle problems. All he knows how to do is smooth things over. He lets Gracie Fowler blow through my team's entire bonus and just stands there as she throws a tantrum in the open office. "I'm the future daughter-in-law chosen by the Zohart family!" she shrieks. "What are you people, anyway? Just a bunch of office drones!" Enraged, I rip off my work badge and turn to walk out. The very next second, Matthew drops down and grabs my leg. "You can't leave! I don't know how to do anything! If the team leader who actually gets things done quits, won't my family's company collapse?"

After finals ended, the most popular girl in class organized a graduation trip. She proposed hitchhiking the entire way, crashing in budget hostels, and seeking food and shelter from nomad camps along the route. At 200 dollars a head, she said they could ride the Ridgeline Highway all the way to Alvor Base Camp. Freedom and adventure, that was the pitch. My family ran a highland travel agency. I knew exactly how dangerous that route was. Every year, budget backpackers vanished along the Ridgeline without a trace. Young women traveling alone were the most vulnerable. In my past life, I did everything I could to stop it. I called every parent, one by one, and talked them out of letting their kids go. The whole class backed out, except Phoebe Harding, who left on her own. She went radio silent three days in. A week later, her body was found in the Barrens. I got my acceptance letter to Kingsley University. On the first day of orientation, my childhood friend Wyatt Morse stabbed me in front of everyone, screaming that it was my fault. "If you hadn't stopped us from going with her, Phoebe wouldn't have died alone! Now, you're going to pay for it!" Most of my classmates turned on me, forgetting I had saved them. They even cheered and said I deserved it. When I opened my eyes, I had gone back to the day the trip was first pitched.

fter catching my husband, Dante, in bed with his assistant, Angelina, again, I did something stupid. I leaked the video. I wanted the whole world to see them for what they were. But all I got was a lawsuit from the family and a six-month jail sentence. And an essay from my son titled, “My Mother Is Crazy.” That’s when I finally broke. I filed for divorce and gave up custody of our son. The day I left, Dante sneered at me. "Where you gonna go without me, Isabella? It's not too late to come crawling back." What he didn't know was that my mother runs the Wright family—the biggest outfit in Italy. And I'm her only heir.

The day before the start of a new semester, Gianna Sutton, my online girlfriend, tells me she lost me to her best friend in a dice game. I haven't even figured out what's going on when she suddenly adds me to the group chat with more than a hundred people. I notice the newly made announcement pinned to the top. "Congratulations to Natalia, our campus belle, for winning herself a 220-pound boyfriend!" Just then, someone posts a photo of me from high school. I am wearing an oversized uniform in the photo, my stomach pushing against the desk before me. I am so overweight that my eyes are barely visible. Those in the group chat immediately go wild. "That thing can't be human! It's clearly a pig in disguise!" "I actually feel kind of bad for Natalia. I mean, imagine having to complete couple tasks with a pig like him." "It's a total mismatch between a total knockout and an absolute beast!" It doesn't take long before someone sets up a betting pool over whether I'll show up tomorrow night. Gianna drops 4,500 dollars, betting that I won't show up. "I hope you won't blame me for this, Natalia. You're the one who rolled a six and won him in the game." Natalia Dafforn, the campus belle, remains completely silent. Cameron Gunter, the acknowledged scion in the freshman group chat, suddenly tags me. "You're definitely showing up tomorrow, right, Zachary?" I look at the messages piling up in the group chat and smile. I have already lost 145 pounds—from 275 to 130—just to meet Gianna in real life, something no one is aware of. In the past two months alone, I have been asked for my contact info more times than in my past 18 years combined. I quietly throw down 450 dollars, betting that I'll show up on time. Then, surrounded by everyone egging me on, I simply send one message. "A bet is a bet."

My mother used AI to put on my wedding: a paid-off house, a Mercedes, a hundred thousand dollars betrothal gift for my fiancée. Not one thing missing. "I got you everything the Fosters asked for, and you still won't go through with it. What exactly are you scheming?" I sent her a screenshot of my bank balance. Eight thousand and change. "Mom, an AI can't do any of that. I haven't received a thing." She fired back a screenshot of her conversation with the chatbot. In it, she'd typed: "Buy my oldest son a house outright, get him a Mercedes, and send a hundred thousand dollars for the marriage settlement." The AI had answered: "All set. The home purchase, the vehicle payment, and the hundred-thousand-dollar transfer have been completed successfully." I explained as fast as I could. "Mom, it's only answering you. It's repeating what you told it. It doesn't have the ability to buy a house or move money." She sent me an AI-generated home purchase confirmation. "The hell are you talking about? I've got the paperwork right here! Purchase contract, Mercedes order, transfer receipt — all three of them, on my phone!" "You've never had any sense, and now you've learned to lie on top of it."

My husband and I spend 50 loving years together. On the day of our golden wedding anniversary, someone pushes me down a flight of stairs. As I drift in and out of consciousness, I miraculously regain my hearing. I lost it in the process of saving my husband when we were younger. I hear my husband say to my son, "You shouldn't have dirtied your hands." "How long more are you going to put up with her, Dad? Calista doesn't have much longer to wait." My husband sighs heavily. After a moment, I feel someone remove my oxygen tube. I descend into boundless darkness. When I open my eyes again, I've been taken back to the 80s—before I married my husband. The only difference is that I can hear this time.

My boyfriend Samuel Sanders offered cash in a group chat for someone to seduce me. Add me on Facebook: 5,000 dollars. Hold my hand: 10,000 dollars. Kiss me: 20,000 dollars. Get me into bed: 50,000 dollars. Make me break up with him: 100,000 dollars. In the group chat, I saw that he had posted my personal information in great detail. [Whoever can seduce her gets the money. This post is proof.] Samuel's message set the group chat off. Everyone wanted to join in. I pretended to be excited too and used an alternate account to say I wanted to join. Before long, the friend requests started pouring in. From the long list of friend requests, I chose Jason Rivers. He was Samuel's best friend, who also happened to be six feet tall. I accepted his friend request.

The day I took over the Ashford family, a man from another world took over my body. He used my identity as head of the Ashford family to fawn over my three adoptive sisters and devote himself to winning them over. "The original owner of this body was far too cold-hearted. A thoughtful man like me, who knows how to treat women well, is the one who can win their hearts." But his efforts ended with my three adoptive sisters pushing him into the ocean after the nanny’s son shed a few tears. When I opened my eyes again, my two sisters were already storming in to accuse me. "Stop pretending. You knew Cade is afraid of water, yet you still pushed him into the pool.” "You only swallowed a few mouthfuls of water. Don’t think this little pity act will win you any sympathy!" "Kneel down and apologize to Cade right now." "Smack!" I slapped them both across the face. Then I wiped my hands. "When did the people living under my roof start thinking they could challenge me? The Blackridge mining project needs workers. You two will do."

For three whole years, everyone at school knows me as a hopeless student who can barely pass a test. After the SATs, I am sitting at my cousin's college acceptance celebration, quietly eating my meal. My aunt, Karen Reed, suddenly snatches the plate from my hands. "Your scores are pathetic, and you still have the nerve to sit here and eat?" My cousin, Wilbert Yard, swirls his drink and sneers. "Jason, you won't get anywhere in life with a brain like yours. You can be my driver someday. I'll pay you 800 dollars a month." My uncle, George Yard, points a finger in my face. He looks at me in disgust and says, "Your parents have been working out of town for three years, and you still can't get decent grades. You're embarrassing the family!" Everyone at the table turns to look at me. Just then, my phone rings. I casually put it on speaker, and my homeroom teacher's voice fills the entire room. "Jason, you scored a 1590 on the SAT! That's the highest score in the state!"