Faking Straight Novels & Stories

I had always been naturally celibate. Yet somehow, I still ended up chemically castrating myself. It was all because, in my previous life, my wife's precious idealized lover, a libidinous playboy, went viral as a pickup artist and dumped every side effect of his indulgent lifestyle onto me. He spent nights partying in hotel rooms with groups of women while I collapsed from kidney failure and was rushed to the ER. He lounged in clubs with women in both arms, downing bottle after bottle, while I went into an allergic shock and nearly died. I confronted my wife about it, but she shoved me away impatiently. "Shane already told me nothing happened with those women! You're just jealous and faking illness to slander him!" However, the playboy's actions only escalated. Chasing bigger thrills, he even started getting involved with men in drag. Thanks to him, I caught an STD, which pushed my wife to demand a divorce. I went to the hospital for treatment, but the doctors could not find the cause. Instead, they tossed me straight into an addiction rehab program. Later, for the sake of boosting his live stream numbers, the playboy went wild in Southwind Asira's nightlife scene. After he spent an entire night drowning in pleasure, I, drained past my limit, collapsed and died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day he began his online hunt.

On the day I vomit blood while eating on a livestream, I rise to the top in the platform streamer rankings. My older brother, Julian Everhart, bursts into my room, kicks over my streaming equipment, and violently shoves me to the floor. My fiance, Dominic Pierce, tells everyone on the livestream that I'm just trying to attract attention and rake up the views by faking my illness. In an instant, I get cyberbullied by everyone. The Internet users keep leaving malicious comments and cursing me to die. All of my photos are crossed out. Someone even dumps silver acid onto my front door. What everyone doesn't know is that I will die in three days because of Wolf Soul Deterioration. On the day I die, I start the livestream for the final time. Tens of millions of viewers rush into my stream instantly and begin cursing me out for my lack of morality. They bash me for faking my illness just to gain popularity and attract attention. But the next thing they know, my heart monitor flatlines right away. Everyone begins panicking instantly. Julian and Dominic shift into their wolf forms instantly and rush toward the hospital desperately begging me not to die.

On my wedding night, Sean Boswell was with his first love when I suffered a miscarriage as my kidnappers tortured me. I begged endlessly for him to save me, only for him to laugh, "You were just demanding a divorce in the morning, and now you're faking a kidnapping so that I'd come back? Is that the only thing you can do?" Eventually, when I gave up and stopped clinging on being Mrs. Boswell, he chased me to the airport, pleading with a crack in his voice, "Just stay, Anna. Let's make things how it used to be."

At the Hunting Festival, Cynthia Whitefang flashes a stack of cash and demands that my mate, Simon Fenwick, become her bodyguard. "Just accept it, Layla." Simon flashes his fangs and tells Cynthia to get lost in a rude tone. Our son, Noah Fenwick, who's chronically poisoned by silver, waves his fists angrily as well to chase Cynthia away. But I just stare at the stack of cash quietly. Memories of a conversation I had overheard last week surge into my mind at that moment. That time, Noah was tugging at the hem of Simon's shirt while standing under a tree. "Daddy, can I keep pretending to be poisoned? That way, Mommy will keep giving me money to treat my poison. I wanna buy gifts for Cynthia!" he said coquettishly. Simon had replied dotingly, "Of course! But you must remember to never tell Mommy that I'm not hurt. Only when she's filled with guilt will she love us forever." It turns out that my husband is faking his injury, while my son is faking being poisoned. They've played me like a fiddle the whole time. I, on the other hand, have to risk my life time and again to earn money just to treat their imaginary illness and wounds. To think that all of my earnings are used on pleasing another she-wolf… I raise my head, soon meeting Cynthia's confident gaze. "Okay. You can have him."

My adopted daughter, Phoebe Marsh, possessed an evil ability. Whenever she got hurt, the pain would also be inflicted directly on my biological daughter, Maisie Shaw. She deliberately hurt herself, covering her body with wounds and bruises. Then, she would turn around with cold eyes, watching Maisie writhe on the floor in agony until she passed out from the pain. With no medical solution available, I broke down and held Maisie close, begging my husband, Brandon Shaw, to send Phoebe away. However, he would erupt in fury. "It's obviously Maisie who's been faking illness for attention, and you're making up this ridiculous story to get rid of Phoebe. She's just a fragile, helpless child. How can you be so vicious?" After that, Phoebe escalated her self-harm even more viciously. Meanwhile, Maisie spent every day curled up in the corner of her bed, refusing to let anyone touch her. On Maisie's birthday, Phoebe threw herself from the fifth floor. Just as Maisie was blowing out her candles and making a wish, she suddenly began bleeding from all her facial orifices, and she died instantly. Yet, Phoebe only suffered minor scrapes. I died from overwhelming grief shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to Phoebe's first day in our home. Maisie was playing with her Legos when she suddenly clutched her ankle and started crying. This time, I grabbed the broom from behind the door and swung it toward Maisie, shouting, "I'll beat you up for faking illness and seeking attention!"

Locked up in a place where excessive sadness and loneliness grew, Madison Zedler instantly got used to her life. A life designated for her ever since she was in her mother's womb wherein the mission shall be continued by her as the Vampire heiress, in terminating humanity. In order to hide her existence, faking was the only thing they relied on. But, a sudden realization hits her when a disarray of events suddenly entangled, that what she has been doing all along has no worth; her hard work has been wiped out for chaos and betrayal took over everything. Will she be able to continue the said mission? Or will she be enlightened in paving a new beginning?

Adrianna’s wishlist never included faking her identity, but when her sister’s mysterious death is linked to Lance Hamilton—a powerful and dangerous mafia boss—she makes a bold move. To take him down from the inside. But things don’t go as planned. Lance is not the monster Adrianna thought he was, and the deeper she digs, the darker the truths she uncovers about the people she thought she could trust. Now, enemies are everywhere, and Adrianna is caught in a game far bigger—and deadlier—than she ever imagined. With danger chasing her at every turn, Adrianna has to decide: can she trust Lance to help her survive, or will he be the one to destroy her?

Three nights ago, I was locked inside my own family’s underground wine cellar. When my congenital heart condition hit, I called my husband, Zane Corleone, and begged him to come save me. He didn’t come. Instead, he stayed with another woman all night because she was afraid of the dark—and told me to stop faking it for attention. That was the moment I finally understood. If he cared that much about her, then I would do the one thing neither of them expected. I would make room for her. In three days, I would disappear from his world completely.

My daughter Stella was dying—kidneys shot, barely hanging on. She needed a transplant. Fast. But my wife, Kylie—the hospital director—stole the donor kidney meant for Stella and handed it off to her old flame's kid instead. That boy lived. They celebrated. Played happy family while my daughter was bleeding out hope. That same day, I called Kylie. Told her Stella didn't have much time. All she said was, "That ungrateful brat's faking it again? Lying? If she wants to die, let her." Stella didn't make it. Her body gave out in the worst way. And when Kylie finally saw her—really saw her—she broke.

On the third anniversary, which also happens to be Natalie Sherman's birthday, her husband, Lester Garrison, gives her a very special gift—a divorce agreement. Calmly, Lester picks up a pen and drops his signature on the bottom left corner of the agreement. Then, he pushes the document in Natalie's direction. "Rene is very stubborn, and it's very difficult for me to appease her. Only when I'm divorced will she agree to accept me as her lover. "I've already signed the divorce agreement. You should do the same. Don't worry, we're just faking this divorce." Lester's tone is very casual, not to mention he sounds emotionless, too. It's as though he's discussing what to have for dinner tonight.