How Do Actors Make Screaming Funny In Films?

My adopted younger sister, Marissa Payton, loves pulling pranks on others. But I'm the only one who gets hurt in her pranks. Last year, she and our older brother, James Payton, locked me up in a cold storage room. Because of that, I'm afflicted with a case of severe asthma. James apologizes to me before telling me that he'll take me cave diving just to make it up to me. Marissa tags along with us on the trip. She keeps casting me malicious glances every now and then. Feeling rather uneasy, I quickly get into the water just so I can get away from Marissa. But when I'm 65 feet deep, I feel a wave of suffocation hitting me all of a sudden. It turns out that Marissa has secretly shut off the oxygen supply. I can hear Marissa's smug laughter ringing out from the underwater communicator. "Look, Jamie! I told you that Nat would fall for it again!" James' voice is filled with affection. "Leave it to you to be smart enough to think of such a prank to play on your sister, you little imp." My face has gone blue from the suffocation. I struggle with all my might in an attempt to turn on the bailout cylinder, only to feel my hands getting slapped away from them thanks to Marissa, who has swum over to me. She then whines into the communicator, "Look at how dramatic Nat is being, Jamie! She can't stand the suffocation at all even though it's only been a few seconds!" I hear James' icy and aloof voice reverberating in my earpiece. "Just hold on a little longer. Look at how delicate you are! It hasn't been all that long, yet you already can't stand it. How humiliating. You're not even in the same league as Mari!" This time, I can only stare at James in despair as my complexion slowly goes purple. Has he forgotten what happened to me? Thanks to their prank, my lungs have already sustained irreversible damage. It's getting more and more difficult for me to breathe. Finally, my vision goes black, and I collapse in the dark bottom of the sea. This prank isn't funny at all, James. This time, I'm going to die for real.

⚠️ CONTENT WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content. Taboo and forbidden relationships. Stepfather/stepdaughter. Stepbrother/stepsister. Father-in-law. Age gap. Dubious consent. Possessive and controlling men. Stalking. Dark obsession. Power imbalance. Boss/employee. Mafia. Enemies. Jealousy. Degradation. Praise kink. Rough sex. Multiple partners. Cheating (not between main characters). Morally grey everything. This is not for good girls. Good girls don't read this. Good girls don't wonder what it would feel like to get caught, pinned, owned. Good girls don't lie awake thinking about the man they're not supposed to want — the stepfather who looks at them like a problem he's decided to solve, the stepbrother who knows exactly what he's doing, the boss who makes the air thin every time he walks into the room. If you're a good girl, close this now. Still here? Good. Make Me Scream, Daddy is a collection of filthy, unhinged, no-apology erotica for the woman who wants it wrong, wants it rough, and wants it with a man who has absolutely no business giving it to her. These are short stories, not slow burns. There is no waiting. There is no fade to black. There is only the moment things tip over the edge — and then everything that comes after. Stepdads who stop pretending. Stepbrothers who don't. Dangerous men who decided you were theirs before you even knew their name. Bosses who ruin the professional relationship on purpose. Stalkers who make you feel seen in ways that should terrify you and don't. These men are not good for you. That's the point. 100 chapters. Zero remorse. Read alone. Or with your little Rose.

Adrian Moretti’s adopted sister—She knew perfectly well that I suffered from severe asthma and could not be exposed to smoke or strong scents. Yet during the yacht reception, she deliberately dragged me onto the open deck, where cigars burned nonstop and the wind howled. Within seconds, my chest tightened. When I reached for my inhaler, my blood ran cold. It was empty. I collapsed against the railing, gasping violently, my lungs burning as if they were collapsing in on themselves. She crouched beside me and smiled. “You’re always so dramatic. It’s just a little smoke. You don’t need to act like you’re dying,” she said softly. “You’re too weak. You need to build some tolerance.” I looked toward Adrian, my vision already blurring. “Adrian,” I choked. “Give me my inhaler. If I don’t use it right now, I’m going to suffocate.” He frowned slightly. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he said coldly. “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a bit of smoke. She’s right—you’re always seeking attention. We finally gathered tonight, and you’re ruining it.” My heart dropped. I fumbled for my phone and called my mother. “Mom,” I sobbed, barely able to breathe. “I’m being bullied… and I can’t breathe.” My voice shook violently.

Ayanna Cambor, the crush of my childhood friend, Dorian Harmon, makes fun of me for being a mute. She purposefully pours melted dark chocolate into my thermos. Then, she howls at the top of her lungs. "As a mute, you can't complain even when you swallow something bitter." Later on, Ayanna takes advantage of the situation by forcing me to stick my tongue out. She insists on making me show everyone whether or not a mute's tongue is different from a regular person's tongue. I look at Dorian instinctively. After all, he has promised me that as long as he's around, he won't let anyone bully me. But he merely shoots me a cold glance. "Just stick your tongue out and show it to Ayanna. It's not anything major to cry over." I can only hold my tears back as I quietly conceal the school transfer application that I've just received. It's true that transferring schools is no big deal. In that case, there's no need for Dorian to know about it.

I broke my leg in a car accident last week and had been stuck at home recovering, unable to go anywhere. Just as I was starting to go stir-crazy, a couple moved into the house next door—the one that had been empty for ages. I pressed my ear to the wall, catching every sound of them making love, and even recorded quite a bit. Still, I never expected something so sinister to happen. The man next door sounded exactly like my dead husband! I moved my phone closer to the wall and listened carefully. Suddenly, a scream exploded through the wall. “Lindy, you’ll die for this!” My scalp went numb. My husband was mute. The only time he ever spoke in his life… was the night I forced his head into a bucket of water. How did the man next door know my husband’s last words before he died?

During a public lecture on derivatives, I hurl my water bottle hard at the blackboard. Under the stunned gazes of the professor and my classmates, I stand up and say, "Seriously? Is there a need to explain a problem this simple? Move on to the next one. How did you bunch of idiots get into the accelerated program? How are you even worthy of sitting in the same classroom as me?" I turn my head and see my mother, who is standing outside the classroom to accompany me as I attend the lecture. She has a pleased and approving look on her face. A reporter sitting in the back quickly points the camera at me. I smile and call out toward the door, "Mom, I need to pee. Come take me to the restroom."