Hypocrisy Novels & Stories

For the life of me I can’t figure it out. It’s almost as if I can’t control the reaction but an ugly feeling swirls deep inside of me. One that wants to grab the dainty woman by her ugly finger only to snap it off and make her eat it. It’s just that they’re hypocritical. They turn their backs on their own pack mates but cuddle up to new people just to climb the hierarchy. You hate them because they’re leeches. That’s all. At least that’s what I try to tell myself.

The woman is shouting in the whiniest of ways. “ how could you marry her of all people? She doesn’t love you like I do” I should be surprised but I am not. I’m standing outside my fiancés secret passage listening to another woman, of many flings, flaunt her love. But then, my fiancé, Mr. Malcolm speak “ don’t be absurd Chrstina I don’t love her nor will I ever besides, you know that our families want us to be happy in holy matrimony. It doesn’t mean that I’ll have to vow monogamy, we can still have our fun”

“I expect honesty. Pretending doesn’t interest me. We’re not children playing house.” She leans back in her chair, eyes sparking. “Then here’s honesty. You’re a bastard who takes pleasure in other people’s misery.” I smile faintly. “I can’t deny that I’m currently taking pleasure in your misery. Which is completely self-inflicted by the way.” Her fork clatters against porcelain. “At least you admit it.” “I’m an honest man. One who keeps my word.” “That’s not honesty. That’s arrogance dressed up as a virtue.” “Truth and arrogance look the same when I happen to be right and you hate that I am.”

I come so hard my spine bows off the mattress— a jagged, body-shaking climax that feels more like a purge than a release. As the tremors fade, leaving me empty and exhausted, reality crashes back in. I stare back at the darkness. The only sound left in the world is my own ragged breathing. I claim to hate his guts, yet I just used the memory of his cruelty to get off— a fucking hypocrite. The word echoes. Hypocrite. I lie still for a second. Then I reach for my bag.

“You know, for someone who fucks her stepson, you act like you’ve been wronged.” Her breath hitched. “W-what do you mean?” “You fuck your stepson: beg for his cock, squirt on it, then moan like a fucking whore. And yet, you act like you’ve been wronged. That’s hypocrisy.” “No it’s not,” she whispered, trying to pull back. “You’re manipulating me.” I laughed low and dark. “Really? Manipulating you? Aren’t you the one dripping?” I spun her around fast, her back to my chest then shoved her forward until her palms slapped the wall.

“Every one of you, cowards is a hypocrite. It’s obvious you don’t want to give up the treasure and just want to find some ‘righteous’ reason to justify yourselves! We are not hypocrites like you, and you dare to fight us for treasure? Maybe you should take a good look at yourself in the mirror before that!” Heath's face darkened. In all of his years of being alive, no one had ever humiliated him like this. He angrily pointed at the bearded man and shouted, “We are not hypocrites. You’re the one who was obviously in the wrong here and yet you accuse us of being hypocrites?” Fane curled the corners of his mouth helplessly. He could already tell from Heath’s tone that he was in actual fact scar

“Come on, Vichie! You’re the one who acknowledged me first. Please! Don’t be the one who will break me again and again.” Michelle kept her head down. Somehow, she’s ashamed of herself. She’s full of hypocrisy. She kept denying her identity, believing that her true motives were far beyond what she could call decent. But while she was doubting her, she feared that she would be gone once again, that she would just go back from being missing. But she’d seen her face changing and settling back again. Was it the illusion made by her hypocrisy? She could say that she’d seen it, but she had no evidence to back it up. And anyway, such a

I stood up straighter, tipping my chin up, “I suppose that guy missing a hand just died of natural causes.” {Hypocrite.} “Were you out for a run, little one?” He completely ignored what I said and moved closer to me at an agonizingly slow pace, “Stretching your little wolf,” he looked me up and down, but not in an interested way, in a checking me over for damage way, “or just out for a killer good time?” Interesting. Guess I am a hypocrite, but the difference is I kill for survival and he kills for pleasure.

I asked. He chuckled. "I don't wanna save your life." I clenched my fist. "You're selfish." "And what made you think you're not?" He scoffed. "That's the problem with you, people! You only see the evil in others but not the evilness of your own. We all are selfish in our own kinkiest way. We all are a bad guy in someone's point of view, hypocrite mother fucker." I slapped his face while my heart was racing fast. He really did know how to get on someone's nerves.

Vada noticed how Karen flinched when the crowd cleared a path to make way for the man behind the voice. "Oh no, that's Jeff Harold, the poker fingered lord." she whispered to Vada who will be risking her money for the game. "I don't understand those terms Karen, explain." Vada whispered as she scrutinized the so-called poker fingered dude that got the once proud Karen to whimper like a freezing puppy, he was sitting down comfortably as he had three lady whores at his disposal, one massaging his shoulders while the other was kneeling between his thighs, giving him a blow job and the last was counting his money and dusting his draught pieces. He had a dim looking eyes, obviously getting to his