Olly Wang-lookism Novels & Stories

It’s amazing how self-care and feeling good about the way that you look can just make you feel good. “Bitch, this isn’t an update. This is a glow-up on a girl that didn’t need one. You trying to make every guy on this campus throw himself at you?” Ollie says, playing with my ponytail. Then looking at me with a raised eyebrow, they ask, “Or one guy in particular?” I pull away from Ollie and glare at them. “I’m not looking for anything from him. If he can’t pull his head out of his ass, then I can’t extricate it for him. Not a proctologist.”

"Hot-dogging... it's like... it's when the girl rubs her pussy along the guys cock like it's a hot dog sausage?" I fell backwards, laughing till I wheezed for breath. Olly gave me a disgusted look. "Shut it, Shan. It's embarrassing enough; I don't need your mockery..." "Why's it embarrassing?" I wheezed, chuckling. "You sound like you got a great shag out of it." "It's embarrassing telling you about it," he complained. "You're my... you're the person whose opinion matters most to me."

Isabella shouted, banging her fists on the door, her voice laced with a desperate urgency. But no one answered, the hallway outside remaining silent. Inside, Isabella whirled around, searching for an escape. But there was none. She was trapped. Then, the door creaked open again, but it wasn't Sofia. It wasn't anyone she recognized. Four men swaggered into the room, their eyes glinting with predatory intent. They were grimy, leering, unmistakably thuggish. "Well, well, well," one of them smirked, his gaze raking over Isabella's body. "Look what we have here. A real beauty."

Olivia Erickson. She looks like a plastic Barbie with her fake boobs and Botox lips. If her personality wasn't so shallow, I might have looked over that fact. But sadly, that's not the case. Olivia cares about nothing but money and glamour. She is one of those women who only liked me for my looks and social status, and frankly, I am sick of dealing with people like that. "Tell her I'm not available. Make any excuse, I don't care," I wave my hand in dismissal.

She had a handful of girls who were tagged 'unbreedable,' made up of omega females, slaves, and refugees like me who were objects of the males' darkest fetishes. Madame's assistant, Olly, whom Olivia called Un Alphonse; the French word for a pimp, hated me so much after trying to force me to suck his sausage cock. The thick bastard with breasts bigger than females was a sadist. Olivia joked that he was castrated before puberty and I almost believed it because of his less bodily and facial hair, raging temper, and constant cussing. Madame on the other hand was patient, biding her time, and always begged Olly to give us some time to adjust.

“Instead of threatening to throw a knife at me just so I'd walk with you to get drunk.” “Oliver, that doesn't mean you can't at least pretend to be decent and enjoy being here.” Keyleth whined, tugging the cowl of her hood up. I snorted. “I can't pretend to be something I'm not.” An onyx-eyed female wolven was suddenly inches away from me. The pale skin of her breasts pushed up and almost out of the cloth that struggled to keep them in place. She pulled her bottom lips in, revealing the sharp edge of one of her fangs, her eyes roaming over me. Shoving another growl down my throat, I watched her approach me, her fingertips inches away from my face. Her jet black hair fell in waves to her shou

Curiosity got the best of me and like a little child I tried to peek over Narissa’s shoulder, to see who this person was. Green Blue eyes stare back at me, his golden-honey hair slicked back, and his chin covered in a faint that cut nicely along his jawline forming into a smirk as I assessed him. Oliver freaking Steward… Boy, did he clean up good. When I saw him last a few hours ago he was covered in dirt, blood, and a whole heap of other stuff that I barely recognized him. The eyes, his eyes confuse me, I couldn’t place why they look so familiar before, maybe it’s the mate bond playing tricks on me, but his eyes, I know I’ve seen them before.

Hillary continued scathingly. “What is this all about you and Mark? God!” Olivia exploded “I wish there were more people like him in the world, or at least in this place, you know why? Because of attitudes like yours, I'd rather be with Mark a thousand times than spend a minute with any of you!” She continued looking at Hillary and Cindy, "You guys are the worst! Mark didn’thing to you!” Without giving them time to answer, she took my hand to get us away from those idiots. “Do you know what’s the worst?” We heard Daniel ask “That at no point did Liv's pet defend himself! We already know who’s the bitch in the relationship.” He laughed.

I braced for a news link, a police report, a photo of a wrecked car. What loaded was a gallery of Olek. Shirtless. Dozens of pictures. Gym mirror selfies, bathroom selfies, pictures where he was flexing so hard his veins looked ready to pop. His pants were slung low on his hips in every single one. I stared, my brain short-circuiting. "Olivia," I said, the sweet tone straining at the edges. "What the fuck is this?" "I am making a profile on a dating site. A premium one. For wealthy American women who appreciate a real man. I cannot decide which photo makes me look most… approachable, yet dominant. You are a woman. You will know."