Good Prank Call Ideas Novels & Stories

“A callboy, huh? You begged so fucking sweetly when I had you spread out, coming apart on my cock like you’d never been touched before.” -- Scarlett Reed was done being the perfect, cheated-on wife. When her husband demanded an open marriage, she hired a callboy for one wild, no-holds-barred night of payback. He owned her body—hard, deep, filthy—until she left cash and vanished at dawn. Now she's pregnant. And the "callboy" is back: Ryder Voss, ruthless billionaire, smirking in the shadows. He pins her close, hand on her belly, voice dark and dripping heat: "You paid me to fuck you senseless, Scarlett. Now you're carrying my baby... and I want more. Every inch. Every moan. Forever." One night of revenge. One lifetime of obsession. Will she run... or surrender?

The emergency center I worked in went haywire as the typhoon closed in on our town. That night, my husband’s first love made seven emergency calls in a row to me. However, she did not say anything when I picked up. By the eighth call, I thought it was a prank caller, so I gave them a piece of my mind. Then, I heard my husband’s angry voice. “Melinda! This is the eighth time Sadie's called you for help! Haven’t you made her suffer enough?!” After that fiasco, he decided to avenge Sadie by taping my mouth, tying my wrists and legs up, and throwing me into our basement for three whole days, despite it being flooded with seawater, I begged for mercy, but it was to no avail. “You knew Sadie couldn’t talk because she hurt her throat, yet you still hung up on her! I'm going to make sure you feel the same hopelessness she felt!" Those three days left me with a collection of severe infections. I ended up having to remove my kidney. Even after all that, that man still had the gall to kneel by my bed and beg me to give him another chance.

After I was brought back from the kidnapping, my mafia boss husband, Jonathan Caruso, arranges for me to live in a new villa. "You've suffered so much over the years, Nat…" Jonathan caresses the scar on my face, sympathy and pain evident on his face. As I listen to his words, I just smirk in return. Sure, he's been keeping up a loving and devoted facade. Unfortunately for him, I've always known that he doesn't want me to survive at all. After all, he's the one who has delivered me into the dark and damp water prison three years ago as a wedding gift for Governor Frederick Romano in order to marry his daughter, Kelsey Romano.

After five years of marriage, Zac Saunders felt the need to protect his son with his mistress. Not only did he pressure me into terminating the pregnancy, but he also conspired with the board of directors to remove me from my position as vice president. He held Jemma Jacobs close, wearing a wicked grin."Samantha Lewis," he sneered, "since you won't obey...""...Jemma take your place from now on," he continued.I pushed his hand away, pulling Jemma in front of me. Ignoring her struggles, I firmly grabbed her hair and forced her to tilt her head back."Come on," I urged, "tell him, who do you belong to?"

"I assure, all those who dared to mock me will soon regret it, especially you, my dear ex-husband!" Samantha Swan, a 24 years old young woman, orphaned and working as a waitress, found herself pregnant by Marcus Johnson, a billionaire known for his arrogance, ruthlessness, and icy heart. Her life turned into a living nightmare when she was coerced into marrying him for the sake of their unborn child. She never experienced love, only enduring abuse at the hands of Marcus and her mother in-law, until one fateful day when she could bear it no longer. She made the courageous decision to escape, even though she was pregnant. She had reached her breaking point. Realizing that she would rather be a single mother, raising her child alone, than endure the pain inflicted upon her by her husband and mother in-law under the same roof, Samantha took a leap of faith. One day, as fate would have it, she collapsed on the road, only to awaken in a grand and opulent mansion, standing before a bearded and elderly man seated in a wheelchair. "Glad you're awake, my daughter," he said with a smile. From that day forward, Samantha discovered that she was the long-lost daughter and the sole heir of the Trillionaire, Zeus Monte Verde.

The moment I was born, I took her life. They called me a murderer. Marcus used to burn me with cigarette butts, and Dad would say it was my fate. “You’re a curse. If you had any conscience, you’d have gone to join Mom a long time ago to repay what you owe.” When Marcus was diagnosed with kidney failure, that same cold, distant father knelt in front of me. “Please… save him…” I put my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Dad, I’ll do the surgery. But can you promise me one thing?” Dad performed the surgery himself. It was a success. He saved the son he loved most and took the life of the daughter he hated. But after I died, Dad turned himself in to the police, and Marcus lost his mind.

On the very day I underwent a vasectomy, Susan bought the designer tuxedo I had been eyeing for months. However, her next words struck me like a bolt of lightning. “Tomorrow is my baby’s sip-and-see. I need you looking your best.” The IV needle snapped right out of the back of my hand. With bloodshot eyes, I begged her to stop playing around. However, her face remained dead serious. “Choosing to be childfree back then was just a compromise because we were struggling. But now, I’m sitting on a multi-million dollar estate. I need an heir to inherit my fortune. My child will be your child, too. From now on, you will be the baby’s godfather.” In that exact moment, my vision blurred. “So, you pushed me to get a vasectomy just to secure the positions of your lover and your illegitimate child?" I spat out. Susan frowned, annoyed. “Myles, watch your mouth. I am giving you the status of my official husband, and I'm giving Owen the child. It’s a fair trade. Staying with me means you get to be a father without any of the pain. If you leave me, who else would ever want a sterilized man like you? Think about it wisely.” The pain hit me all at once as the anesthesia wore off. Yet, I couldn’t help but remember that once upon a time, she had carried a child of ours that she refused to accept.

On the eve of our engagement party, my fiancée, Alissa Coleman, gets a marriage certificate with her male best friend, Rhys Pritchard, and celebrates it in the bar. Yet, she acts completely unconcerned about what she has done. She says flippantly, "It was just a joke. We'll get divorced tomorrow. Everyone knows Rhys and I are just best friends." Rhys responds with a provocative grin. "Even though the marriage is just for a day, there's still a special bond between us. Are you all just enjoying the show and won't even prepare a wedding gift for us?" Everyone at the table laughs raucously. "Sure. I happen to have a project in the western suburbs. I'll give it to you as a wedding gift. But there are rules at this table. If you want it, you'll have to win it with a game of dice." I say nothing more and simply take a seat at the table. Meeting Alissa's perplexed frown that is directed at me, I flash her a small smile. "Isn't this supposed to be a dice-rolling game for wedding gifts? I'd like to play too," I said.

My mother was the best portrait artist in the police station. She had a strong sense of justice and brooked no evil. However, all I got was a sharp retort when I called her to save me. "You know it's your sister's coming-of-age celebration today, and you're cursing her? Kidnapped, are you? Fine, the kidnappers can kill you for all I care." She assumed it was a prank call. So, she refused to go to the police station and do her job. I wasn't saved in time and was tortured to death. When the DNA report came out, she came to the scene all wobbly. She drew a portrait of me with my bones as reference, her hand trembling all the way. "Jessica? It can't be her. This is a mistake!" She tried again and again. Yet, it didn't matter how many times she redid it as the portrait showed my face. My mother, who had hated me my whole life, teared up.

On our wedding night, my fiancé's best friend barged into our room for the third time, claiming a wedding prank. Having had enough, I warned Sam Whitman that if we didn't consummate our marriage that night, it was as good as over. He glanced at my half-unbuttoned dress and dismissed my words as a tantrum. Then Candace Lombard stormed in for the ninth time, ripped off the covers, and livestreamed our intimate moments. Sam merely pushed me aside and told me to be understanding. She climbed into our bed, smirking as she claimed the spot between us. "Wedding night prank? I get it," I grinned, leaning into her livestream camera. "Alright, everyone, fire up those donations! I'm about to let my husband take a mistress live. Let's make it a show!"