Pervert Short Stories & Novels

As Christmas drew near, my little sister claimed she’d seen Santa Claus in the house. “He had four legs, real long, like dead branches. He crawled on the floor like a dog. His mouth was full of teeth, and I saw him with my own eyes, climbing out of the chimney. His bones were making this clicking, clacking sound.” The Santa she described was nothing like the legends. My parents and I thought it was just her imagination. Until I posted about it online. A user named “NocturneNotes” insisted my sister wasn’t lying, and that the thing was dangerous. Panicked, I asked him what we should do. He gave me three rules: “On Christmas Eve, from 11:30 PM to 2:00 AM, the entire family must ‘sleep’ by the Christmas tree.” “You can’t actually fall asleep, or you’ll die in your sleep.” “No matter what you hear or feel, you absolutely cannot open your eyes or stop pretending to be asleep. Once it hits 2:00 AM, it will leave on its own.”

Harry Pate fails in his plan to secure a fortune from my family. He tries to drug me, hand me over to his friends, and even film it to control me. Luckily, a kind netizen overhears him plotting with his mistress at a restaurant. The netizen posts a missing person alert online. "Please share widely. Looking for Freya White. Her boyfriend is trying to drug and assault her." I see the post and quietly pour the drug into the pot they are about to drink from.

After I join a new company, I keep running into problems—not from people, but from the company's equipment. The fingerprint scanner fails to recognize me every single time, and I have to submit a manual attendance appeal almost daily. When I ask the admin to change the device, they respond with thinly veiled sarcasm. "Everyone else clocks in just fine. Why are you the only one with so many issues?" The air vent above my desk blasts cold air directly at me. My hands and feet are freezing every day. I ask to switch seats. My manager looks at me like I am making things up. "Everyone else sits there without a problem. How come the AC only blows cold air when you sit there?" One strange incident after another makes it impossible for me to function at work. When I get home, I complain to my boyfriend and say I want to quit. He shuts down the thought immediately. "You're making almost 60 thousand dollars a year before benefits, with weekends off and paid leave. Where are you going to find a job like that?" I think about it and realize he isn't wrong. Just as I decide to stick it out, the company elevator malfunctions. I fall from the 33rd floor and die. In my final moments, I can't understand it—why does every piece of equipment in the company seem to target me alone? All the devices are newly installed. All my coworkers are people I have just met. I have no grudges with anyone. There's no reason for someone to sabotage me from behind the scenes. When I open my eyes again, I am back at the company. It's my very first day on the job.

My best friend Sophie and I went into labor the very same night. I watched her switch out the two infants with my own eyes, but I did not tell a single soul. For the next decade, I fed, clothed, and raised a daughter that was not mine. On the day the two girls turned eighteen, they received their college offer letters at the same time. One got into an ivy league school, and the other, a community college whose name I had not even heard of. I had never seen Sophie so happy in my entire life. Grinning from ear to ear, she whipped out the DNA report she had been saving for this very moment. "Thank you for raising my daughter to be the valedictorian that she is today. It's time she returns to her mama. As for this good-for-nothing scum… You can take her back!" I sneered. "Very well then." She had no idea what was coming.

I was the Alpha and Luna’s only daughter, yet I had depression, the illness my mother despised most. Mom took me for a mental health assessment. On the form, I checked “I often feel sad.” She crossed it out right away. “Your dad and I love you so much. Why would you be sad?” I checked “I’m afraid to talk to people.” She frowned again. “You were so outgoing when you were little. Don’t put that.” I didn’t argue. She said I wasn’t sad, so I changed my answer to “Never.” She said I slept just fine, so I erased “I often have trouble sleeping.” By the time we finished, I’d changed almost every answer to the one she wanted. The results came back normal. Mom let out a relieved breath and pulled my coat snug around me. “You scared me, sweetheart. I knew you couldn’t have it. Only Omegas get that illness. You’re stronger than that.” Once we got home, I stopped asking anyone for help. I thought losing me would erase the only flaw in Mom’s perfect life. But Mom, why did you fall apart after I died?

Kieran Voss is my boyfriend, and his first love has slept with every one of his closest friends. Yet, she still manages to play the innocent little angel in front of him. I plan to expose her, especially after I accidentally uncover her biggest secret. But before I can, Chloe Bennett uses dark magic and somehow transfers all her physical reactions onto me. She's flirting with a man below the stage while I'm giving a company presentation. I can't help but let out a soft moan at the podium the moment his hand slips under her skirt. I become the shameless and indecent woman everyone despises. Despite this, my boyfriend goes against public opinion and proposes to me in front of everyone. Chloe spends ten hours in bed with ten men on our wedding day. Meanwhile, I collapse on stage and tremble uncontrollably in a white gown, my face burning red with heat. I die of heart failure from sheer excitement and carry a tarnished name even in death. As I open my eyes, I'm back to the moment I first discovered Chloe's secret. This time, I close my eyes and say "Don't worry, I swear I didn't see a thing."

My grandfather, Terry Sims, suffered from bipolar disorder and was prone to anger and mood swings. My mother, Catherine, was his only chill pill. On the day they were hunted down by enemies, my mom went into early labor and lost her life in an attempt to save him. Devastated, my grandfather could not see a way out of his disorder and poured all his love into me. He would pull out the tongues of those who mocked me and fed them to the dogs. The families of those who hurt me would meet their end. It was known to the people of Mistvale that the granddaughter of Terry Sims was untouchable. Due to my congenital heart disease, he reluctantly sent me abroad for medical treatment. After my surgery, I rushed back to his side for his birthday, thinking of giving him a surprise. However, I was mistaken for a gold digger by a carer and locked in the basement. “Of all the things you can do for your age, you throw yourself at men. Since your parents won’t restrain your behavior, I’ll have to do it for them.” She pulled out my tongue, dumped acid all over me, and dug out my snewly transplanted heart to give as a birthday gift to my grandfather, who had been waiting for my return. “Mr. Sims, the skank tried to impersonate Ms. Sims, but I got everything sorted out for you.”

After days of torture at the hands of my family’s rival gang, they offered me one last phone call. I called my brother, Matteo. I just wanted to say goodbye—while I still had the chance. “What is it now?” he snapped. “Matteo, I—” He didn’t let me finish. “Fix your own mistakes. Until then, don’t call me again.” Death didn’t hurt as much as those words did. I felt my heart slow to a stop as my brother’s words echoed in my ears. I guess you’re finally at peace now, Matteo. I won’t bother you again. And you’ll never have to see me again.

On my birthday, my wife, Selena Zane, slices off my ear. She does it just because her first love, Yale Sullivan, makes some nonsense. I scream and beg her to stop, but she ties me up and lets Yale dump leeches straight into my open wound. "Don't worry," she says casually. "He's a freak who can't feel pain. You can do whatever you want with him." Eventually, I go into shock and die from the excruciating pain. Only then does she regret what she has done. Consumed by remorse, she tortures Yale to death, believing it is the only way to make up for my death.

Yvette Warren, personal secretary to billionaire Orson Cox, announced that the heiress who was accidentally switched at birth 20 years ago was living in this orphanage. Whoever could prove their identity would inherit a billion-dollar fortune. In my first life, the two-faced Laurel Marsh tricked me into giving her my keepsake to claim the family. The Coxes tore her mouth apart. "Fraud!" In my second life, my frenemy, Rebecca Vargas, tattooed a fake birthmark on herself to claim the family. The Coxes had her skin slashed to shreds. "Still a fraud!" In my third life, my sworn enemy, Vita Davidson, took out online loans to get plastic surgery, reshaping her face to resemble Orson's wife. She tried to claim the family and was thrown straight into a mastiff cage by the Coxes. By my fourth life, no one dared steal my identity anymore. They packed me up overnight and delivered me straight to the Cox residence. When the DNA test confirmed I really was the heiress, everyone thought the nightmare was finally over. But on my very first night back, the Coxes shoved me off a high-rise building. "Anyone who dares steal our real daughter's identity deserves to die!" When I opened my eyes again, Yvette was smiling as she asked who the heiress was. Everyone backed away in terror, insisting they weren't the heiress. Yvette's voice turned low and eerie. "But our investigation shows that the heiress is definitely in this orphanage."

While picking up my parcel from the mailroom, I run into Ivan Judd, an underprivileged student from my grade who is working part-time there. While we chat, he finds out that I'd spent 128 thousand dollars during the Black Friday sales. Dumbfounded, Ivan cries, "I've never even seen that kind of money in my entire life! And you're spending it so casually? Did your mom send you to college to study or to blow money like this?" He yanks the parcel out of my hands and physically blocks the exit. "Return it immediately! Kids like you never understand how hard it is for adults to earn money! If you're this wasteful now, what man can afford to marry you in the future?" I can't help but laugh angrily at Ivan's ridiculous attitude. I retort, "What does me spending my mom's money have anything to do with you?" "How does it not?" He looks completely justified when he says, "I'm dating your mom. Every cent you spend counts as our future marital assets!" I am shocked. Isn't Mom a lesbian? Since when did she start liking men?

The day before our wedding, my fiancé invites our family onto a cruise ship. He says he wants to test the authenticity of my feelings for him. He shoves my mother off the ship when the waves are at their choppiest. Then, he jumps into the water, too. I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. I panic, not knowing what to do. My mother had already choked on a lot of water, but she pushed me away weakly. She cried, "Save Adrian first! He can't swim!" However, after I drag Adrian Lawson onto land and go back for my mother, I find that she's already stopped breathing. Adrian watches me cry, his expression frosty. "Drop the act. Your mother was a swimmer when she was younger—how can she be dead? I can't believe you didn't save me first. "Vi is right—you don't love me enough. Our wedding is postponed. It'll happen only after you've reflected on your mistakes and I've received an apology from you and your mother." After that, he leaves while holding Vivian Sinclair's hand. He doesn't know that my mother can no longer swim after a major illness a few years back. He's shoved her to her death.

As I was watching a movie in the cinema, a rude child kept kicking the back of my seat. He even took off his shoe and extended his foot next to my face. I turned around and chastised him to take his seat, but he stabbed me in my neck with a sharp needle. Feeling the pain, I reached out and wiped the blood from my neck. His mother chuckled. “It’s fine, he’s just fooling around with my sewing needle. It’s just a harmless jab. It’s not like it has poison on it. Be a good sport about it.” I threw the popcorn bucket onto the floor and aimed my phone’s flashlight at the rude child. I roared, “The child’s holding a discarded needle that was used on an AIDS patient in the hospital! There’s an AIDs patient’s blood on it!”

I, Cassandra Channing, don't stop my fiance, Hades Emerson, from rushing into the flames to save his non-biological niece, Olivia Emerson, this time. Instead, I watch as the fire swallows him whole. In my past life, a fire broke out at the hotel on our wedding day. Hades and I escaped in time, but Olivia was trapped inside. Seeing the flames grow bigger, I did everything I could to stop him from charging in to save her. When the fire was finally extinguished, Olivia was dead. Hades claimed he didn't blame me for the incident, and purchased diving tickets for me and our son on our third wedding anniversary. When we were 300 feet below sea level, he ripped out our oxygen tank and snarled, "You're the reason I couldn't save Olivia back then. Now, a life for a life." Crying, I begged him to understand that our son is innocent, but he swam away without looking back. In the end, my son and I suffocated to death. After dying, I learned that Hades had always been in love with Olivia. He hated me for stopping him from saving her. He blamed me for causing him to lose the love of his life. I am back on the day of the fire when I open my eyes again.

It's 11:30 pm. Home alone, I decide to order some takeout. When the map shows the delivery guy is zero miles away, I receive a call from him. I pick up, only to hear unsettling silence from the other end. I hang up, annoyed. The next moment, the guy texts me, "Sorry, I'm hearing-impaired and unable to speak. I called to notify you to pick up your food as soon as possible. I can't explain things over the phone, and I apologize for that." Then comes another text. "You must've been waiting for a long time. I've left your order at your door, so please pick it up as soon as you can." Just as I prepare to open the door, I see bars of live comments—reminiscent of livestream chats—floating right before my eyes. "Don't open the door! That dude isn't a delivery guy at all! He's a murderer!" "He called you to check if you're a woman living alone!" "Seriously, why are all thriller story protagonists always so dumb? The delivery guy is obviously suspicious, yet she still wants to open the door."

I live alone. At eleven o'clock on a rainy night, an unexpected call came through. The voice on the other end said my car window was left open and urged me to go downstairs. Cautious as a woman should be, I didn't act rashly. Instead, I called the property security office, only to discover that even the security was fake. It hit me suddenly—I was ensnared in a vast conspiracy. Someone was orchestrating all of this. But for what purpose?

I've infiltrated into a private group chat called "The Domestication Project". The group owner is in the middle of spamming her experience of her destroying her husband's mental willpower. "I've secretly swapped out my husband's anti-depressants for something else. Every day, I keep telling him that he's a useless, pathetic loser. Once he's hopelessly dependent on me, I'll have him thrown into a mental hospital and take over his company naturally." All the group members keep praising the group owner for being a total professional in gaslighting her husband. Soon, they start asking for her methods and experience. I tap on the photo of an experimental journal that the group owner has just sent. To my shock, the name listed on the mental health report with a diagnosis of severe depression is actually my own! As for the haughty group owner, she's Sophie Hayes, my wife of ten years! Yesterday, that woman told me with red-rimmed eyes that she'd rather go bankrupt just to cure me of my depression! It turns out that her devotion and love toward me for the past ten years is nothing but a grand yet cruel plot to murder me slowly! Since Sophie wants me to get reduced into a lunatic who has lost all of his marbles, then I shall put on an insane show for her. After that, I lock the doors in the mansion and dump the gasoline that I've just bought all over the living room.

My best friend has always been stingy to the bone, so the moment she volunteers to buy a bottle of water for the heir to Bellaris' most powerful family, who collapsed from heatstroke, I know she has been reborn, too. In my previous life, she and I sat for the college entrance exam together, and when the results were announced, we both got the same high score. Both of us had our eyes on Kingsley University, yet the admissions quota was limited, and neither of us wanted to jeopardize our friendship, so we kept delaying our application. In the blink of an eye, it was the last day to file our applications, and as I was about to start on mine, I stumbled upon the heir to Bellaris' most powerful family, who happened to be suffering from heatstroke. I not only bought him a bottle of water, but I also held an umbrella over him until he came to. By the time he regained consciousness, I had already missed the submission deadline. My best friend submitted hers just in time and got accepted into Kingsley University. Because I never submitted mine, the opportunity to attend university slipped past me. However, the heir apparent was touched by my act of kindness, and he asked for my hand in marriage. In the end, I married him and became a socialite, whereas my best friend, despite getting into Kingsley University, was overwhelmed by the demanding curriculum. Watching me live with more money than I could spend, she was fueled with jealousy until one day, she snapped and stabbed me. The moment I open my eyes again, my best friend and I are back on the day the heir to Bellaris' most powerful family passes out from the heat.

The moment the acid hit my skin, I heard my own flesh sizzle. In the last moments before my consciousness faded, my trembling fingers managed to dial my brother, the new Don of the Steele family. To my relief, Farrow finally answered. The sounds of expensive jazz and clinking glasses bled through the receiver. His voice was cold as ice. "What is it this time, Grace?" "Farrow... help me..." He cut me off before I could finish. "Listen, Betty's book launch is tomorrow night. If you dare cause a scene or embarrass the Family, I'll disown you. I'll ship you off to a convent in Sicily." The line went dead. A moment later, a second splash of acid hit my face, and the searing agony consumed me. My eyes were gone, leaving nothing but hollow, bloody sockets. You don't need to exile me, Farrow. I'm already gone. Forever.

My mom is a famous perfumer who's well-known in town. But her perfumes are charged per session. One session costs 200 thousand dollars. She only takes in ten customers per month, too. Those who have used the perfumes my mom has concocted will be enveloped by the perfumes' unique fragrance that leaves an unforgettable impression on those who have smelled it. In fact, the fragrance is capable of covering up the customers' body odor, no matter how strong it is. One session will leave the customers with enough fragrance that lasts for a month. Countless celebrities and rich women specifically travel to this town just to frequent my mom's business. Everyone sings praises about my mom, claiming that she's the mistress of all fragrances who's here to bless humanity with her gift. But I know that my mom isn't as amazing as everyone thinks she is. The only reason why her business is booming like this is all thanks to the "thing" that she keeps locked up in that room…