Futa On Male Novels & Stories

After my mother shot down my pleas to cover my medical bills the 100th time, I clutched my bone cancer diagnosis papers and trudged to the crematorium. "Hi, I'd like to reserve a cremation slot ahead of time," I muttered to the clerk. Half an hour ticked by before my parents and adopted brother arrived in their car. My dad, a forensic pathologist, cracked me across the face. "You're pulling a fake-death stunt now, just to steal the spotlight from your brother?" My mom, a hospital director, snatched the papers from my hands and shredded them into confetti. "Faking records using my credentials and tying up hospital resources? You've crossed the line!" My brother cried, tugging at their sleeves. "It's all my fault. I'll skip the amusement park forever. I don't need a thing. Just quit riling up Mom and Dad." I spun around, my hand pressed against my throbbing chest, and begged the crematorium staff. "Please, when it's time, cremate me and scatter the ashes in the river. I've got no family left in this world."

At midnight, the ER receives a pregnant patient with an extremely pale face, and she's convulsing violently at the same time. I lift her shirt on the spot so that I can diagnose her symptoms better. But my wife, Selena Carson, who also works as the head nurse, suddenly berates me angrily. "Do you have any idea that what you're doing is sexual harassment? Can't you spare the patient her pride? "Don't use your treatment as an excuse! I refuse to believe that there aren't any female doctors in the ER at all!" The patient's family members streamed the whole thing live. Soon, everyone was blasting me on the Internet. The hospital forces me to apologize to the pregnant patient. But I decide to tender my resignation the very next day. After all, the patient's disease has a frighteningly high chance of getting misdiagnosed, not to mention it's incredibly difficult to cure. In fact, no one but I can cure her once and for all.

When my cousin, Rita Pike, brings her boyfriend, Benny Booker, home to meet her parents, I get labelled as a freeloader for some reason. As soon as Benny steps through the front door, he shoots me a disdainful glance. "You're the cousin who refuses to move out of my girlfriend's villa, right?" I just stare at him in confusion. Yes, I do live in this villa. But my parents have left this property to me as a part of my assets. My name is the one printed on the property deed. Heck, I'm the one who told my butler to give Rita a room to stay here! Why is it that I'm painted as the poor relative who refuses to move out now that she's dating another man?

Three years ago, during a critical moment of a business negotiation, the proprietary data I personally compiled ended up becoming the weapon that secured the victory for my business rival. I was taken away on the charges of leaking corporate secrets—and my girlfriend, Kelly Stone, smugly flashes the proprietary data at me, mocking me for my foolishness. After being given a five-year prison sentence, I suffered endless torture behind bars and died from the internal injuries. However, I got to witness everything that happened following my death. Whitney Evans, a college senior of mine who had a thing for me, did everything in her power to clear my name. She sold her company and pursued every avenue she could. In the end, after losing everything, she cried herself unconscious at my grave. Then, suddenly, my eyes opened again. I saw Kelly sneaking a USB drive into her handbag before turning to leave. I grabbed the USB drive from her and looked her in the eye, warning, "What you're doing is against the law, Kelly. I advise you to watch yourself from now on. Also, it's over between us. Don't even set foot inside my office again." Immediately, I went looking for Whitney. Three years have passed since then. In that time, I've managed to secure success in both career and love. It won't be long before I complete the acquisition of my company's business rival, Havenshire Group. Yet, the night before the official signing, I drink a glass of milk that Whitney gives me. My body swiftly goes weak, and I collapse on the couch. When I regain consciousness, I find myself lying on the floor with my hands and feet bound in metal chains. I can hear Kelly's and Whitney's voices ringing loud and clear. "No one will be able to see that you forged Caleb's signature for the share transfer agreement with Sam as the recipient, right?" "We'll just keep Caleb locked up here, so who's going to know that the signature is forged? His company has been expanding too quickly. We can't let him ruin Sam. It's all your fault, anyway, Kelly. I wouldn't have had to waste all those years on Caleb if you'd just stolen the data back then!" Taking in my restraints, I let out a self-deprecating smile. All along, I believed that Whitney and I loved each other. Turns out I've just been deluded this whole time. If Kelly and Whitney care about Samuel Gibson that much, they'd better spend every moment of their lives guarding him from now on. I'm going to do everything in my power to destroy him!

Loree Koester got hurt over and over by her dream guy—Harvey Geake—while I dragged her up from nothing to a damn fortune. Ten years later, she stood at my proposal, eyes full of tears, and said yes. Then she ditched our wedding ninety-eight times. Every time, same excuse—Harvey threatening to kill himself. On the ninety-ninth, she didn't even hesitate. Left our friends, our family—hell, left her ring on the floor. "Rowan, just wait a little longer. Two hours. I'll deal with Harvey and come right back." I'd already waited ten years. I wasn't waiting two more hours.

My son’s family suddenly returned from abroad. I did not understand a single word at the dinner table. They were speaking in a foreign language. My grandson, Aiden, looked me up and down and said loudly, “Dad, Grandpa’s face is all bumpy and scarred. He’s lame, too. He’s so ugly!” My son waved his hand nonchalantly and said, “That was caused by a shell blast. Anyone who served in the military looks like that.” I did not understand their conversation. I simply placed the fish I had deboned onto his plate in silence. My grandson, however, became agitated. He picked up the hot soup and splashed it on my face. Then he cursed at me in broken English, saying, “Stay away, ugly monster! If it weren’t for you refusing to die, Grandma Sloane and Grandpa Wallace could’ve come home years ago!” My mind went blank. My wife had passed away decades ago. Who was this “Grandpa Wallace”?

On the day we decided to get a divorce, I saw Miranda’s account book while I was packing up my stuff. Aside from our daily expenses, Miranda had also set up a scoring sheet for me. Miranda had taken notes of all the things I had done ever since we started dating. Some of them were such miniscule things that even I had forgotten. She took note of them all with a red pen, and she scored them by either awarding me points or deducting them. However, the further down the sheet, the more points were deducted. In the end, I saw Miranda add one line in black ink. [He’s no longer the Henry Jones who used to love me: -100]

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

The factory had just finished expanding when my wife insisted on bringing her older brother in as our driver. The very next day, my brother-in-law sold my $45,000 business car to a used car dealer. Not only that, he had the nerve to lecture me. "You're just a small business owner," he said. "Driving a car this expensive is a waste. You might as well sell it and buy gold for my sister. At least that'll appreciate in value." I swallowed my anger and tried to explain. "I've never treated her poorly. I've never missed a holiday gift. Compared to what others spend, driving this car is already modest." He flew into a rage instantly. "You still dare talk back? My sister gets treated like a maid by your mother every day, and you pretend not to see it. "Driving a luxury car, pretending to be rich, probably thinking about keeping a mistress. As long as I'm around, don't even think about it. "In my family, women handle the money. You'd better transfer all your assets to my sister." I turned to leave, but he punched me straight in the eye. When my wife rushed over, she did not defend me. Instead, she scolded me for looking down on her family. While I was being treated for my eye injury, she even allowed her brother to sell all the gold and expensive watches in our house. They used the money to buy a car for his son and even sold the house just to show off their wealth. Meanwhile, she went online and complained about how miserable her married life had been. I was so furious I was speechless. In the end, I called the police. Since they were so eager to get their hands on my money, I decided they would not get a single cent.

My wife, Lindsey Kelsey, suffers from an aversion to intimacy. For ten years of marriage, she pushed me away again and again. Then, on our anniversary, she abandoned me and, in front of the crowd, kissed another man with reckless passion before the two of them walked hand in hand into a luxury hotel. Afterward, Lindsey brazenly declared that a real man should be magnanimous, not petty. Magnanimous? Then I wish them both eternal bliss—may they be bound so tightly they can never break free from one another. Later, I handed Lindsey the divorce papers with a blank expression. I was determined to walk away from her. But Lindsey went mad when she realized she couldn't find me anymore.