The Idiot Novels & Stories

It happened on Thanksgiving Day. I was on my way to my girlfriend's house when a car slammed straight into mine. The road was deserted, not a single person was around. The doors were jammed shut from the impact, and flames were licking toward the engine. I fumbled for the safety hammer, only to find that someone had replaced it with a toy hammer shaped like a cartoon bear. Panicking, I called my girlfriend. But before she could even pick up, her ringtone started playing from the car that had just hit me. Luna Hill stepped out, hand in hand with her childhood sweetheart, Julian Ford. Julian put on a show of alarm. "Oh no, I'm such an idiot! My first time driving, and I already hit a car." When Luna saw that it was me in the crushed car, she quickly tried to calm him down. "It's fine. He probably did it on purpose." I pounded on the window, shouting for her. "Luna, the safety hammer's been switched out! Please, help me get out!" Julian burst into a grin. "Sebastian, that was me! The little bear hammer's adorable, isn't it?" Luna's face twisted in disgust. "You're fine. Stop being dramatic. Figure it out yourself." Thick smoke was billowing inside the car, and it was about to explode. I begged her to get me out. Julian chuckled. "Sebastian, are you cooking in there or what? That smoke's killing me!" He patted his stomach and said with a laugh, "Man, I'm starving. Luna, let's go home and eat." Luna hooked her arm through his and tossed a parting line over her shoulder. "Enough already. My parents are waiting for us to start dinner." Just as I was about to pass out from the smoke, I slammed my hand on the car's emergency button.

Born as the younger twin, his destiny in life is to live in his brother's shadow. His beast is strong, the bringer of chaos, and he follows nobody's lead. Ryder leaves home and disappears for almost two years after realizing that his first love had a dark ulterior motive. He starts working as a hunter, killing the supernatural. A near death incident that leads to personal tragedy brings him home where he becomes the Sire of his own lair and sets him on his path for revenge and ultimately finding his own Drakaina. I went back upstairs just as Megan came out of the bathroom sporting a pair of my sweatpants and t-shirt that was way too big for her. “I was going to recommend the sweat pants, it might be big around your waist but your ass will fill it out,” I said as she turned to glare at me. “Meaning what exactly?” she asked me. “It’s just that your ass… never mind,” I said. “Are you saying I have a fat ass?” she asked me. “No!” I said quickly. “Then what?” she asked me as she stood with her hands on her hips. “Just forget I said anything,” I said to her trying to hide my embarrassment. “No! Tell me,” she said adamantly. “Fine! Your ass is perfect for… no I can't, I'm going to sound like a pervert,” I said as the pillow flew across my face. “Ryder!” she yelled her face a bright red. “You asked,” I said and ducked at the shoe heading for my face. “You're such an idiot,” she said as she looked at me, “stop looking at my ass.” “Are you wearing my underwear?” I asked her as I saw the edge of my boxers above the sweat pants.

There's an unspoken rule in my household—everyone has to engage in a drinking competition during the holidays. Whoever gets wasted first will have to pay off one year's worth of house and car mortgages for the other two siblings. In the first year, I collapsed after my first glass of alcohol. I had to pay the house mortgage for my oldest sister, Dahlia Zeller. In the second year, as soon as I picked up my glass, I fainted right away. Since then, I had to pay off Jasmine Zeller, my second sister's car loan. For the next 20 years, I've always been the loser. In the end, my wife, Jean McCarthy, is forced to jump off a building because of the huge debt I've racked up. The debtors keep dumping paint onto my residence, forcing me to deter away from it. Ransacked by guilt, I end up damaging my stomach from overdrinking when I attempt to train my alcohol tolerance. As a result, half of my liver has gotten removed. When I'm on the verge of death, I hear my parents snickering outside my ward. "Don't you think we've laced too many sleeping pills in his drink? He almost didn't wake up back then!" "It's fine. He's an idiot who merely thinks he has a low alcohol tolerance. Our family still relies on him for financial survival, you see. We can keep drugging him so that he'll keep getting wasted." When I open my eyes again, I've already gotten reborn in the timeframe when I'm sitting at the dining table in the 20th year.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself supposedly transmigrated to some ancient era. Every morning, before light touched the sky, someone would yank me out of bed to haul trash, chop wood, and do whatever filthiest job needed doing. Somehow, I'd become the lowest-ranked servant in the entire estate. The estate lord's son would climb onto my back and ride me around the courtyard like some pet he was proud to show off. Anyone in the household could hit me, kick me, or shove me aside, and not a single soul would speak up. Five years passed like that, so awful that I almost lost my mind, as if I were living in hell. Then one day, a group of servants cornered me. They didn't bother hiding their intention. The moment I saw their faces, I knew I was in trouble. Fists flew, boots landed, and everything blurred. Just before I passed out, I heard them whispering, "We're going to kill him if we keep this up." "Come on. This place only looks like some old noble estate. It's not an actual one. If he dies here, we're the ones who'll get dragged to court!" "Relax. Ms. Shaw will handle it. The idiot pissed off her childhood sweetheart. Getting tricked into this place is exactly what he deserves." Fear swallowed everything, and the world went dark. When I woke again, the lady of the house had conveniently "returned from visiting her family." The lord threw a grand celebration with tables full of food, wine flowing, and musicians playing like nothing had happened. I carried dishes into the banquet hall and lifted my head. Her face was the same as my wife's, Melissa Shaw. I set the final dish down, stepped closer, and in a voice only she could hear, asked, "Ma'am… are you enjoying your little game?"

Three years ago, my rich boyfriend, Steven Delaney, went into bankruptcy. He decided to break up with me so that he wouldn't drag me down. As I looked at his broken expression, I steeled my heart and ripped the overseas college application I had just received. "I'll stay with you. Together, we can rebuild your legacy." Everyone told me that I was nuts. Still, I decided to move into a damp basement room with Steven. After that, I took on a job out in the streets that allowed me to earn money the fastest, which was promoting beer to the customers. One day, when I'm delivering beer to the customers, one of them calls out to me. "Hey, this lady looks like you!" There are two screens being shown on a livestream, that's being replayed. The left screen shows me crouching at the doorway of the basement while washing shirts for Steven. It's so cold that my fingers have gone completely red. The right screen shows him all dressed up in a smart-looking suit. He has an arm wrapped around a beautiful and well-dressed woman, and they're both sitting in a luxury car. Steven smiles at the camera and says, "This is my third year lying to my girlfriend about my financial situation. Till now, she still hasn't realized the truth! She really is a pathetic idiot!" The live comments keep popping up on the side. "You really know how to make things interesting, Mr. Delaney! I can't believe you're capable of coming up with the whole 'pretending to be broke in order to test your girlfriend's humanity' act!" "What exactly is that lady aiming for, honestly? She's just someone who sells beer! Does she seriously think she's in a romance drama?" "Oh, this is hilarious! That penniless girlfriend of his is even washing underwear for him! The truth is, the underwear belongs to the Delaney family's household staff!"

To scrape together enough money for tickets home on New Year’s Eve, I took on a part-time job and accidentally entered a livestream where money was being thrown around. The boy on screen had fair skin and wore a high-end knit sweater, with a luxuriously decorated villa behind him. “It’s too boring being kept here. My sugar mommy gives me more money than I can spend. Let’s do some giveaways.” Excited, I grabbed several large cash drops in a row. The money for my girlfriend’s and my tickets was almost enough. Then the boy suddenly leaned close to the camera. “She keeps saying the tear mole under my eye looks like her boyfriend’s. What bad luck, sharing the same feature as some poor loser.” My fingers trembled. I had a tear mole in the exact same spot. A comment floated by: [How could a sugar mommy’s boyfriend be poor?] The boy sneered, running a hand through his hair. “She’s just playing around. Told him she’s a million in debt, and he’s dumb enough to work and help her pay it off.” My heart went cold. My girlfriend was also supposedly a million in debt. “The funniest part is, she just spent three days with me. When she left, I asked if she still had the energy to go be with him. “She said as long as she tells him she’s going to wash dishes at a barbecue place, that idiot will feel bad and go deliver food to make some extra money overnight.” Another big cash drop came in. I had enough now. My phone rang. Wren’s voice sounded tired as she said, “Aran, the ticket money isn’t enough… I made a little over two hundred dollars washing dishes. I’ll head home now.”

Peter Crowley finds out that it's been three days since I last lodged a purchase request from him. Thinking that I've finally learned how to become a good wife, he decides to text me as a form of reward. "I've already restored your adoptive mother's treatment privileges. You should be more docile from now on. Don't keep lying just to ask for more money from me. "I know that it's tough, being from the bottom rung of the society and all, but I'm not a gullible idiot, you know." What Peter doesn't know is that I've already finished drafting a divorce agreement by the time I receive his text. Before leaving the manor, the only thing I can take with me is the white T-shirt and the jeans I wore when I first married into this family. No one will ever believe that I, the glamorous and radiant Mrs. Crowley, don't have enough decent clothes to take up an entire closet. Every cent meant for any private expenses needs to go through a corporate approval system. All of the fancy clothes and jewelry are locked up in a safe, too. If I ever need money, I'll have to submit a request to Peter's secretary, Cara Harden. This is all because Peter looks down on my background. He thinks that I'll somehow develop a bad habit of spending money excessively just because I've married rich. But three days ago, my adoptive mother was in critical condition. I quickly put in a request for 200 thousand dollars for her surgical bills, only for Cara to drag out the approval system's procession. In the end, my adoptive mother died in the hospital. Peter has no idea that the only reason why I can tolerate his behavior for so many years is for the sake of the medical resources that can cure my adoptive mother. Now that my adoptive mother is dead, there's no need for me to continue staying in this marriage.

Albert Roosevelt was the crush I was never meant to have. Like an idiot, I believed loving someone meant giving them everything, even if they didn't care about you. So, I trailed after him like a desperate puppy, bending over backward to meet his every whim. When he couldn't afford tuition, I begged Dad to fund him, sending him to the best schools. When his worn-out clothes made him a laughingstock, I pitied him and showered him with designer labels. And what did he do? He used what I gave him to chase after a gold-digging campus belle. To keep up appearances, he blew through money like it grew on trees. He even spread rumors that he was the real heir to the Roosevelts. To him, I was just an ATM. "Your family's loaded. It's not like you'll miss a few hundred grand. If you're gonna be stingy, maybe you should stop following me around," he said when his wallet ran dry. And like a fool, I believed that if I kept paying, someday, he'd love me back. After graduation, I funded his startup. The second it took off, he married the campus belle. He had the nerve to claim he earned everything through nothing but hard work. So, I crashed his wedding, and he buried a knife in my chest. "Only when you're dead, Eve Roosevelt. Only then will my pathetic past stay buried." When I opened my eyes again, I was face-to-face with a scowling Albert. "You can't scrape together a few hundred thousand dollars? It's Bianca's birthday. Are you trying to humiliate me?" I looked around the room and rolled my eyes. "Sure, I'll pay. But first? Kneel. You look pretty enough. Consider it charity, peasant."

No one knew that I, the one they called the Angel-Faced Executioner, had been tangled up with the heir of the Grahams more times than I could count. In the latest model sports car, Doug Graham pressed a marriage certificate into my hand, his teeth grazing my lower lip as he murmured, "The Grahams have enemies on both sides of the law. I found a shield, a way to protect you." I was ecstatic and completely swept up in it, giving him whatever he wanted. I never imagined it was the beginning of a nightmare. Doug publicly announced his engagement to the Sowles heiress, making a show of it, and he clarified that I was nothing more than a low-level enforcer in front of everyone. But that night, he left marks all over my body, whispering against my skin, "The less I care about you, the less anyone will suspect you're my real wife." From then on, he and Lindsey Sowle humiliated me at every turn. Only when we were alone would he finally show the truth, his voice strained with pain. "I know this isn't fair to you. Once I'm done using her, I'll kick her out for good." When Lindsey caused me to lose the baby, he dropped to his knees in front of me, slapping himself over and over. "That idiot keeps ending up kidnapped and abused. Serves her right!" Until one day, I was taken in a setup by Doug's rival, Chad Conner. He grabbed me by the throat and forced me to look inside the room. Lindsey was blindfolded and gagged, crying and gasping as Doug lashed her with a pink whip. "They've run this whole kidnapping stunt seven times already. You'd think they'd be tired of it by now." Tears poured down my face. So I was the fool all along, the one who got played by Doug's so-called love.

"Dad, what are you doing to my girlfriend? You like Pearl? I'll marry Pearl. No problem. Just don't—" Jason, the jock I idolized for almost half my life, tripped over his words. "Derek, wait. Let's have a conversation fir— Dear fucking God, help me," I screamed, as my husband slammed the whole of his big dick home into my near virgin pussy. "Excuse my idiot son, wife. At least he had the sense not to touch you since I made you mine. Fuck, you're tight," Derek said, quick to withdraw and shove his dick back into me. ### Pearl was Jason's girlfriend for three years. He never touched her, fat shamed her mercilessly, but kept her around to pass his exams for him, claiming they were waiting for marriage to fuck. When Pearl walked in on him fucking a hooker, she was devastated, finally coming to terms with the truth: her boyfriend found her curves revolting. He was disgusted by her. Done being used and ready to get laid, Pearl agrees to go on a last minute blind date in her sister’s place. Little does she know that her 'date' isn’t the stranger she was supposed to meet. He’s Derek Nelson, Jason’s billionaire father and her husband from a drunken one night stand. Derek breaks the news to Pearl, then angry fucks her in front of Jason, demanding she be his whore wife for one year. In student debt up to her eye balls, with her family's debt to think of too, can Pearl really turn her billionaire husband away? As Jason grovels for forgiveness on his knees while Derek fucks Pearl, the young wife must choose: the boy who used and betrayed her or the ruthless, former champion wrester who’s obsessed with ruining her.