Dumb Stories Novels & Stories

“Okay, dare. I dare you to do twenty push-ups right now while you describe your most embarrassing hookup failure in full detail. No skipping parts.” He grinned like he was enjoying this way too much. Jax dropped down to the floor in front of the couch, peeling his hoodie off in one smooth move so he was just in a tight white t-shirt that stretched across his chest and shoulders. The muscles in his arms flexed as he started the push-ups, smooth and controlled, sweatpants riding low on his hips. “Alright, embarrassing story time,” he said between reps, breathing steady. “Last semester I had this girl over after a game.

" A bleak chill spread through me. I suddenly remembered those first few days when I'd just learned that she was pregnant. I'd been so excited I couldn't sleep at all. While thrilled, I'd also been worried she'd blame me for secretly poking holes in the condoms, and that she wouldn't want to keep the twins. Later, when I saw that she seemed happy about the news, I assumed she'd finally come around and wanted children now. I never imagined that this was all but an utterly terrible misunderstanding. While I was secretly patting myself on the back for how clever I'd been, had she actually been letting out a quiet sigh of relief? I let out a bitter laugh, feeling like the biggest fool of all.

Laura: I’ve always been good at pretending. At school, I’m the quiet girl who gets straight A’s and smiles politely when teachers praise me. At home, I’m Daddy’s little helper—setting the table, folding laundry, saying “yes, sir” when he asks me to do something. But inside my head? It’s a different story. Lately, the thoughts won’t leave me alone.

" He was such a bastard! I buried my head against his chest and punched him with my fist. My ear was pressed right against his heart. The thunderous sound of his heartbeat flamed my cheeks, and an aching feeling filled my chest. Feeling rather hesitant, I refused to speak. Unhappy with the way I was avoiding the topic, Keane bit me. But when he heard me cry out in pain, he hurriedly appeased me. In the end, he buried his head in the crook of my neck defeatedly. His voice was glum as he mumbled, "You really are deaf—deaf to my heart." When I saw how despondent he was, my heart twinged as well. For some reason, I didn't want to see him looking so down.

Aside from Evelyn, everyone had had a few drinks, their faces flushed, clearly a little tipsy. No one knew who started it, but all of a sudden, the conversation shifted to ex-boyfriends. Some people doubled over with laughter. Others had tears in their eyes. A few stories were so ridiculous that Sophie could barely breathe from laughing. She nudged the only sober person next to her. "Evelyn, what about you?" For a moment, Evelyn's expression went blank. Unbidden, memories surfaced in her mind.

, an adjective that never left his mouth was one of those not very kind words: “dumb, dumb” And that memory brought another, of a story that made his relatives laugh every time he told it. Yes, for his great-grandmother, because no one else was capable of telling the same story so many times with ease and skill in detail like him. "But you know that there was a time in Itaperuna that a very stupid farmer arrived, you know, very stupid " he began suddenly, as if he had already started the story and we were not paying attention. The grandchildren would stop whatever they were doing and call the great-grandchildren to come closer to the table to listen to him. Tradition could not be lost.

I replied and she smiled again. "No one would ever believe us or our story. That you married me forcefully. We look more romantic than the couples who have done love marriages." She said and giggled. I chuckled hearing her. She was right. No one would ever believe us. Not our future kids and grandkids. No one would believe our Stupid Love Story.

He could hear the faint hum of the crowd, the shuffle of papers, the sound of the host introducing him. “And now, we’d like to welcome Ryan Calloway, a second year student who has shown remarkable courage in sharing his truth through storytelling.” He walked onto the stage. Not shaking this time. Not afraid. He looked out at the sea of faces. He found Daniel near the back row. Marcus beside him. And he began: “For a long time, I didn’t think I had a story worth telling. I thought I was overreacting. Too emotional. Too dramatic. But when someone makes you smaller than you were meant to be, it takes time to remember your full shape again.”

Clara, one of the few maids I’d grown somewhat close to, was looking at me with concern. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” she said, tilting her head. “And those dark circles under your eyes… Are you sleeping at all?” “Yeah, just tired,” I mumbled, forcing a weak smile and looking away. How could I possibly explain that I was up half the night touching myself while listening to Lord Blackwood fuck other women? That I wished with every fiber of my being that it was my pussy he was pounding instead? “Not used to the work here yet?” she asked gently.

Immediately I say this, the room goes very quiet. I can still hear the clink of bottles, and the shifting of bodies on the couch, but no one is laughing anymore. Why though, it was a dare they gave me----- "Tell your deepest fantasy." Why are they all so quiet now? This is embarrassing. “I…” I try to chuckle, but it comes out as a strangled sound. "It's... just a fantasy.” Still no one says anything in reply and just stare at me awkwardly. Finally, my best friend clears her throat, "Okay... who's up for the next dare?"