Fictive Alter Novels & Stories

This is the part where I should throw him out of my pack for deceiving me but I kept my cool. “Of course, I did and what do you mean by facade? Have you been deceiving me? The friendship thing? Everything?” “Well,” he started. I have to say that I am very tempted to punch his nose and break it. You know displace his perfect facial structure and make him look less charming in the next alphas meetings. It will really help a lot and maybe I will find another ally. Maybe I should go with Alan this time. Alan is an alpha from Africa and he doesn’t usually show for pack meetings anyways. He only comes sometimes because he doesn’t think it makes any sense for him to come halfway around the world fo

What is she to do now? Suddenly her alter ego appears beside her. The imaginary her that consoles her in tough situations. “Look here, bitch,” her alter ego tells her. “Shit has hit the fan, suck it up and take. You almost two thousand dollars to your name and you can do something with that if you’re smart about it,”

“You cannot just transfer money to kidnappers like you’re paying an overdue invoice.” His expression barely changed. “Apparently I can.” I almost laughed. Not because it was funny. Because the man sounded genuinely unbothered by the fact that he had just inserted himself into a criminal situation for me without hesitation. Psychotic behavior. Deeply attractive. Horrible combination. “You don’t even know if they’ll release her,” I snapped. “They will.” “You don’t know that.” “No,” he agreed calmly. “But I know sitting around doing nothing wasn’t an option either.”

I remain silent during this process, still not sure what to think about this situation. “Oh, this isn’t good.” Axel exclaims, checking his phone. “I have an alert, the police are looking for a fugitive with telekinetic abilities who may be able to identify a high-risk Abnormal known as a ‘Mimic’.” He looks confused and turns to Myah, “Do you know what a Mimic is?” He asks. She doesn’t show any reaction but simply states; “I can’t think of anything relating to that, CC?” Myah looks towards her sister for a further response,

It is, however, a dating site, so having a… false identity is possible and normal, right? I crinkled my nose and started filling in the blanks. For my fictitious identity, I used the surname of a favorite athlete and the name Pen from Penelope. There aren’t any other names that come to mind. I’m a writer, so I’m good at creating characters, but not when the goal is to deceive people looking for partners. It’s extremely cruel, but why do I find this concept appealing? I locked my gaze on the sign-up button. Someone’s phone number appeared before I could even click on it. Brie might be the caller. Aside from her, I’ve never given anyone my phone number.

the kind I wanted to tear off her body. But the high faded fast. I looked at the screen, at her fake face, and felt sick. Self-loathing crashed over me. Pathetic. I was the Summit Alpha. I could have any woman I wanted. Yet here I was, getting off to a fake video of an eighteen-year-old girl. Fake. It was all fake. I reached out to close the app. Then, my nose flared. The scent hit me. It was faint, drifting through the crack in the door. But to an Alpha, it was loud.

His voice then suddenly turns bright, “Ah! Have you tried that out? The one I mentioned before.” “Which one?” for sure I’ve lost count, he has been the idea generator since the plan started. Listening to my puzzled voice, Victor explains, “You can have multiple identities. You’re Henry Nosrevi, you’re Henrietta Chandelier, and now, you just need another one. Create a fake F******k account, connect with him, and you find out more about him.” Fake F******k account? Creating more identities might be risky for me, but if it’s an online character like Victor portrayed… Then I guess it might work.

A boredom so profound it threatened to unravel its own consciousness. In its despair, it used its vast power to perform an ultimate act of narrative control: it began to *fictionalize* itself. It started rewriting its own past, not to change it, but to label it. *This was a comedy,* it would decide, and the memory would become flat, a series of punchlines. *This was a tragedy,* and the pain would become a aesthetic object, stripped of its sting. It was turning the vibrant, messy tapestry of its life into a neatly organized library of genres. It was committing the final, quiet sin: treating its own existence as a story that was already over.

Silica asked after we entered her office, as mine wasn’t completely set up yet. “I need you to get my invitation as Accalia. My cousin is pretending to be me. I planned to expose her, but I think she might be useful for the event.” “Why would she do that? Doesn’t she know who you are?” Silica’s jaw went slack as her eyes widened in disbelief. “We haven’t seen each other since we were kids, and I developed the ability to change my hair and eye color. I doubt she knows who I am.” I sat in her chair behind her desk and explained everything happening at Z.H Tech.

[Your ex-mate's methods aren't exactly honorable] I called him back immediately: Garrett's voice was steady and commanding: "Instead of arguing rules with him, why don't we change the rules? I admire your talent. Interested in a more valuable pack?" I held my breath. The call ended. My assistant called frantically again: "This is bad, Ms. Lynn! All our client contracts got cancelled suddenly. They're saying Alpha Kieran personally called them!" I gripped my phone tightly— Kieran was cutting off my escape routes. Taking my shares and team was just to force me to submit. But he forgot that this pack's core healing techniques and connections were all my creation. Push me too far, and I won't be