Male Reader Novels & Stories

On the day I get promoted to the department manager, I take my parents on a trip during the holidays. But my dad invites my older brother, Jacob Hunt, and his family over as well. He even posts on social media about the event. "My oldest son really is amazing. The first thing he does is sponsor a trip for me right after he receives his salary." Jacob comments on that post, "It's my duty to care for my parents." All of my relatives compliment Jacob right away. They even text me on the family's group chat and tell me to learn from Jacob. As I quietly stare at my dad's social media post, I decide to unlink the family sharing account from my credit card right away. This time, I want to see how Jacob will care for our dad without my money.

When I go home for the holidays, I find out that my dad has installed a facial recognition machine at the front door. "You'll have to pay an entry fee of 50 thousand dollars. Will you be paying by card or payment code?" I thought my dad was joking at first. As I laugh, I attempt to walk through the front door while pushing my luggage forward. But my mom passes me a price list with an icy look. "That'll be 200 dollars for dragging stuff across the floor. You'll also be charged 1,000 dollars per hour for using up the air." I'm stunned by her words. "Mom, stop messing around already!" But when I walk into the house, I realize that the air inside has disappeared. Unable to breathe, my face soon turns bright red out of suffocation as I kneel down on the floor. My mom huffs coldly again. "If you want to live, then pay up!" With great difficulty, I dig out my phone and pay the fees. Once the transaction is done, I can feel air rushing through my nostrils and into my lungs. For a few moments, I pant heavily. As I stare at my cold-looking parents, I finally feel that something is off. So, I scramble up to my feet and rush for the door. But that's when I find out that the front door is already welded shut. There's a payment code pasted on the door as well as a message. "Exit fee. One million dollars."

My wife is the daughter of a top jewelry tycoon. She accused me of pushing her mother down the stairs to steal the family fortune and had me thrown in prison. While I was locked up, her people disfigured my face and crushed my hands—the same hands that once played the piano. After my release, I run from her like a madman. Just like she said I would, I give up and start mooching off a wealthy woman. But then, she clings to me and begs me not to leave.

It was my girlfriend's birthday. I took her to my family's newly opened restaurant for dinner. Since we were planning to have cake later, the two of us ordered a single set meal that included a pizza and a plate of pasta. Smiling, I handed the menu to the waiter. He took it with a fake smile. I heard him calling us paupers under his breath. I frowned. "What did you just say?" The waiter froze for a second. He then put on another fake smile. "I said I'll have your order ready shortly." I snorted and replied fluently in the same language he'd used. "You just called us paupers."

My cousin, Tiffany Wilkinson, brought her new boyfriend, Isaac Lloyd, home for the first time. The dinner was going great, chatting and laughing like everything was perfect. Out of nowhere, Isaac locked eyes on me, his face lighting up with fake surprise as he practically shouted, "Wait, don't I know you from somewhere? Aren't you in that 'Elite Escort Group'?" He added, "I swear I saw your rate card in the group photos... It was only 200 dollars or something?" He slapped a hand over his mouth afterward, putting on this innocent act like he had just let something slip. The lively dining room went dead silent in an instant. My relatives' looks turned cold and judgmental, making me utterly uncomfortable all over. "He looks so decent on the outside, but he's actually doing that kind of thing behind closed doors." "You're such a disgrace to the Wilkinson family. Don't even tell people you're related to us from now on." Dad was so furious he slammed his wine glass down, and Mom sat there wiping away tears. I calmly dabbed my mouth with my napkin, then looked at Isaac with a knowing smirk. "Makes sense that I look familiar. I'm with the Vice Squad, and I just busted you in a sting operation last month!"

For a $5 million research stipend, I agreed to let the System install an empathic link inside my body. "Subject. Are you sure you want to proceed? Once installed, the procedure cannot be reversed. This is a prototype. Side effects are not fully characterized." I looked at the sidewalk-stall clothes my girlfriend Cara Lake had bought herself, and the drugstore-grade makeup on her vanity. I nodded. That night, while she was out at her bar job. A current came up out of nowhere inside me. My whole body lit up with a sickening pleasure that did not belong to me. Seven times. A few days later I waited near the club where she worked. I overheard her with her friends. "Cara. You're something else. Pouring La Prairie into a plastic bag and using it like that? Faking poor like a champion. Doesn't Adam ever notice?" "Notice? He's stupid. He'll believe anything I say. His father got hit by a car, lay in bed without the money for treatment, died alone. I told Adam I couldn't help. He stayed up all night comforting me. I almost died laughing." The laughter went into me like a knife. I got out of there. The tears came on the walk home. I picked up the phone. "Professor. I'll go to the classified institute. I'll go now."

After the car accident, I was gravely injured. I begged my wife, Susie Rogers, to take me to the hospital. Instead, her face darkened, and she ordered someone to lock me inside a sauna heated to 180 degrees. The reason was simple: her brother-in-law, Chester Tucker, was scheduled for an appendectomy that day. To make sure I would not undergo surgery at the same time as him, she had me injected with a hundred coagulant shots. No matter how desperately I pleaded for her to save me, she remained unmoved. Ninety-nine needles pierced my body, each one intensifying the agony of my already severe injuries. The hundredth injection, she administered herself. Looking down at me in my misery, she said calmly, "Chester has had a hard enough life since losing his wife. As his sister-in-law, I'm only looking out for him. You weren't satisfied with driving him overseas; now you even staged a car accident to get surgery before him? "It seems I've spoiled you too much. That's why you dare to pull something like this. "The doctor said that with the injections and the high heat, your pain and bleeding would be controlled. Once Chester's surgery is done, you can have yours." In that moment, my heart turned to ash. When Chester's operation succeeded, Susie burst into tears of relief and even set off celebratory fireworks to mark his 'new beginning.' Later, as she watched him leave the hospital fully recovered, she finally remembered me and ordered someone to take me there. However, before they could, her assistant called. "The hospital has asked you to come and claim Mr. Lynch's…body."

Five minutes before the graduate admission exam began, the campus heartthrob quietly slipped a crumpled piece of paper into my pencil case. Lines of floating text drifted across my vision. [The paper is filled with answers. The school heartthrob has reported it, and the proctor will be here any second!] [As long as they find it, his admission slot will be canceled immediately!] [Serves this bookworm right for standing in our heartthrob’s way. The proctor is his aunt. He’s doomed today!] The next second, the proctor stormed into the classroom and headed straight for my seat. “Someone has reported you for cheating,” she said sharply. “Empty your pencil case. We’re checking it.” Without a word, I turned the case upside down. A few pens fell onto the desk, but there was no paper. The campus heartthrob’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How is that possible? I–” Before he could finish, a slip of paper covered in answers slid out of his own pocket and dropped onto the floor. What they didn’t know was that I was born with a weird power called “Misfortune Rebound.” Anyone who tried to harm me would end up suffering the consequences themselves.

Samantha Sonnet, my wife who's also a hospital dean, decides to replace my name with Nicholas Spark, the intern's name on the surgical atlas that I've spent the last three years drafting without my permission. That atlas is then published. I burn the only original draft of the atlas in front of the entire department. Samantha blames me for being brash. "He's just leaving his name there so that he can ensure a smoother project closeout." After dusting the ashes away, I reply, "My academic achievements will always be mine. Since someone else's name is printed on my achievements, that means they are no longer pure." Later at midnight, Samantha hands me a glass of warm milk in an attempt to apologize to me. When I regain consciousness once again, I've already gotten strapped to a surgical table beneath a huge spotlight. I see a scalpel glinting coldly right above me. "You're a man of purity, right?" Samantha murmurs into my ear. "Three people's blood will be coursing through your veins soon enough. You'll be impure soon enough!" At the moment, Samantha is livestreaming an illegal organ removal surgery. As I stare at the camera hovering above my head, I say coldly, "If you've recorded enough evidence, then it's time to turn off the camera! Tell Captain Hardy that I've gotten my hands on the evidence he wants!"

A contract is desperately needed for the company to close the deal on a project, so I head over to the administrative department to lodge a request for printing paper. However, the administrative employee, Lydia Reed, slaps on an arrogant expression. "In order to prevent bottom feeders like you from taking advantage of the company by stealing the company's resources, the company's rulebook has already stated that you must bring your own paper to work!" I just point at the pile of boxes containing A4 paper behind Lydia before asking coldly, "Then who are those resources meant for?" Lydia rolls her eyes at me. "Well, they are meant for people who truly are worthy of this company's resources, duh! "You're just a meager project manager who keeps asking for money without making any contributions at all, so you can forget about getting your hands on anything that belongs to the company!" I nod in return. After leaving the department, I dial a number. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cross. It seems that we shall not be participating in the 200-million-dollar bid after all."