Choose Your Own Adventure
I will be writing a "Choose Your Own Adventure" style sexual misadventure.
Each chapter will have a poll for which option to choose.
Feel free to comment after each part, as the links will lead to new topics! I'd love to hear your feedback and I'm desperate for votes to help guide me towards which parts should be written next!
50 topics in this forum
-
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 61 views
You don't think. You just turn and run. The gown tangles around your legs, the heavy skirts threatening to trip you with every step, but panic drives you forward. Your bare feet slap against the cold stone, the floor slick with something you don't dare think about. The shattered remains of stained-glass windows cast fractured colors across the hall as you sprint toward the archway ahead. Behind you, the knight laughs, low and cruel. "Run, then," he calls, the sound of his armored boots striking the stone in pursuit. "Let's see how far you get." Your breath comes in ragged gasps. The castle is in ruins, walls crumbling, bodies strewn across the floor. You do…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 34 views
You make your choice in an instant. The door at the end of the hall. Every instinct screams that the quickest way out is straight ahead, no hesitation. You sprint forward, feet pounding against the stone floor, breath ragged in your throat. The ruined hallway stretches before you, littered with shattered furniture, torn banners, and broken weapons. The air is thick with the smell of ash, blood, and something burning. Behind you, the knight is still coming. His boots thunder against the stairs, his laughter rolling through the corridor like a predator toying with his prey. "Run, little princess. Run faster." You don't look back. You slam your shoulder into the he…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 29 views
You take a slow breath, forcing yourself to remain still. "You have my word as a noble," you say, your voice controlled, measured. "But if that isn’t enough for you, then search me. If you think I carry a dagger, take it from me yourself." The knight’s smirk widens, slow and knowing, as if he’d been waiting for you to say that. "Very well, Princess." He steps closer, and your breath catches as the space between you disappears. His gloved hand moves to your side, fingers pressing into your waist, skimming over the fabric of your gown as he feels for hidden blades. He is thorough, too thorough, taking his time as his hands slide over your ribs, down your…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 51 views
Your hands tremble, but it isn't fear that makes them shake, it's rage. This man, this invader, this butcher, thinks he can stand here, in the ruins of your home, over the blood of your father, and offer you life in chains? That he can strip you of everything and expect you to kneel at his feet like some grateful pet? Your lip curls in disgust. Over my dead body, you think to yourself, and you spit in his face. The glob of saliva lands just below his eye, sliding down his cheek. The moment it happens, the entire world stills. The air between you is electric, humming with the weight of your defiance. The knight doesn't move, doesn't speak. He just slowly wipes his che…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 54 views
Your breath shudders as you stare up at him, your pulse hammering against the place where his thumb lingers at your throat. Every instinct tells you to resist, to fight, to never kneel, but instinct won't save you now. Defiance is death. Your fingers curl into fists at your sides, but you force yourself to still them. You force yourself to breathe. The weight of his words settles over you, thick and suffocating. The world you knew is gone, your father, your home, your people, all burning in the wake of this conquest. If you fall here, there will be nothing left. No one to remember House Valoryn. But if you live, if you survive no matter the cost, then maybe, just may…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 45 views
A shudder runs through you as the creatures freeze, their gaping maws snapping shut in eerie unison. The vibrating hum of their voices ceases all at once, leaving behind an unnatural, suffocating silence. The air thickens, pressing against you like a damp, living shroud. Then, from behind you, a voice speaks. "Mmm... dinner time." The words are slow, drawn out, each syllable reverberating through your very bones. The voice is deep, wet, and hungry, a voice that does not simply belong to something monstrous but to something beyond. The kind of thing that doesn't just consume flesh, it devours souls. You don't turn. You can't. Your breath is caught in yo…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 32 views
Your fingers fly to the strap on your thigh, finding the familiar smooth hilt of another throwing knife. You can’t let him close the distance, not when he’s bigger, stronger, and armored. Not when you’re already breathing too hard, your heart slamming against your ribs like a caged animal. You yank the blade free, steadying your grip even as you backpedal, trying to gain ground. The knight snarls, his bloodied shoulder heaving, but his pace doesn’t slow. He’s fast, but you’re faster. You snap your wrist, sending another blade spinning through the air. This time, he’s ready. His gauntleted hand jerks up, and the knife glances off the steel, clattering uselessly …
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 42 views
Your fingers move before your mind catches up, plucking a knife from the sheath at your thigh in one fluid motion. The weight of it feels natural in your grip, the cool steel an extension of your hand. You don't have time to question how you know what to do, you just act. With a practiced flick of your wrist, the blade sails through the air, spinning end over end toward its target. The guard barely has time to react. His eyes widen, and he instinctively jerks his head to the side. The knife doesn't miss, but it doesn't kill. A sickening thunk echoes in the chamber as the blade buries itself deep into the flesh of his shoulder, just beside the plate of his a…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 27 views
You wake to the distant thrum of neon lights, the steady drip of leaking pipes, and the distant hum of a city that never sleeps. The air is thick with scents, a mix of damp metal, burnt circuitry, and the faintest hint of something toxic. You take a slow breath, and your lungs protest. The world around you flickers as your vision stabilizes, glitching like a corrupted screen rebooting itself. Dim red lights bathe the alleyway in a sickly glow, pulsing in time with your pounding heartbeat. Sparks rain from an exposed wire above you, and the metallic stench of burnt electronics lingers in the air. Your head throbs. A dull, sharp ache radiates from the base of your…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 113 views
You open your eyes and look around. You're in a dark, enclosed place... was it a cave? Some kind of ruin? Light streams in from the left and you can see that you are nowhere near where you remember falling. This place is a ruin, as you expected to find, but not the kind of ruin you expected. These ruins are much more recent. You are in a throne room, or what was once a throne room. It's a large room, excessive in size, with high vaulted ceiling and long windows along one wall. These windows are hung with richly embroidered, crimson draperies with the symbol of a black steed on them, most of them pulled closed. One window is broken, its drapery piled on the floor amid…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 63 views
The quiet hum of fluorescent lights presses against the edges of your awareness. You open your eyes and look around. The room around you is plain and unadorned. Rows of stiff, vinyl chairs line the walls, each spaced precisely apart. A low table sits in the center, stacked neatly with outdated magazines that have been thumbed through enough times to leave the corners curled and folded. The artificial coolness of recycled air conditioning barely moves across your skin. You don’t remember walking in. You don’t remember sitting down. The last thing you remember is falling, falling into the ruins in eastern Morocco, and yet, here you are, in a waiting room with no other …
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 75 views
You open your eyes and look around. You're in the dark. This is not just dark, this darkness is absolute, a suffocating void that seems to pulse against your skin, pressing inward like a living thing. The air is thick and wet, heavy with the stench of decay and something metallic, like old blood. Something undefinable fills you with terror, a feeling of impending doom pressing down upon you. You have no idea why you're scared, but terror grips your heart like an icy fist. A faint glow the sickly green of rotting vegetation begins to seep through the blackness, revealing a landscape that seems to writhe and shift, as if alive. The ground beneath your feet squelches an…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 74 views
You wake to feel cold concrete pressing against your cheek, gritty with dust and fine debris. The faint scent of mildew hangs in the air. As you stir, tiny fragments of glass crunch beneath your fingertips, and the distant sound of dripping water echoes through the stillness like a metronome. You open your eyes and look around. You're in ruins, but not the kind you expected. You sit up slowly and take in your surroundings. The space you're in is the cavernous, gutted shell of a modern office building. Desks lay overturned, their surfaces warped by time and water damage. Shattered flat-screen monitors lay strewn on the floor near most of the desks. Filing cabinets in …
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 34 views
The distant hum of machinery thrums in the back of your mind, rhythmic, constant. The air smells clean but artificial, metallic with the faint hint of ozone and antiseptic. You open your eyes. The ceiling above you is smooth, curved metal, embedded with strips of steady, dim white light. Your body feels lighter than normal, but you’re still grounded... artificial gravity stabilizers? The sterile scent around you, the precise hum of the environment, the subtle vibrations beneath your back... this is no ordinary place. When you turn and see the viewport, the vast expanse of space beyond stars glittering beyond the curve of a planet below you, you realize where you are.…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 2 followers
- 0 replies
- 33 views
"Hop hop, little bunny," says a voice that is both a rasping whisper and an eager chitter all at once. You jump, and feel your ears stand straight up twitching at the sound of the voice, panic gripping your heart. Your body is frozen in place, your bare feet pressed against the damp, moss-covered floor of the ruined office, your heart pounding in your chest. The scent of mildew and metal fills your nose, but you can smell the creature as well; something about him is somehow familiar. It reminds you of home, the burrow, your family. Then you see it. A shape slinks forward from the shadows, low to the ground, moving with an unsettling grace, half-lurking, half-sta…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 34 views
Instinct takes over as you glance down at yourself. You’re clad in a suit of armor adorned with the rich crimson and black livery of House Valoryn. The black steed emblem emblazoned on your breastplate marks you unmistakably as a sworn defender of this house. At your waist hangs a sword, its pommel inlaid with a polished gemstone, a matching dagger in a sheath on your other side. The weight of your steel boots shifts beneath you as you step forward, positioning yourself between the enemy knight and the fallen king. The king’s lifeless body sprawls in a twisted heap of velvet and ceremonial armor, blood still seeping from a mortal wound. It pools beneath the throne, s…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 32 views
The title, Lady Valoryn, fills you with a mix of dread and resolve. You look down to see that you are are wearing a gown of deep crimson and black, the colors of House Valoryn. The fabric clings to your curves, elegant and imposing, with intricate embroidery of silver thread tracing patterns of flowering vines. A circlet of dark metal rests on your brow, a symbol of your status as the king’s sister and a reminder of your place in the hierarchy. At your feet, the body of your brother, King Valoryn, lies lifeless. His blood pools around him, staining the steps of the throne. The ornate crown lies beside him, heavy with jewels and symbolism. The knight before you s…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 61 views
You freeze. The man standing before you is a tower of muscle and scars, his thick frame wrapped in a chaotic patchwork of leather, rusted metal plates, and strips of matted fur. His skin is darkened with grime, his arms knotted with jagged tattoos that seem more like brands than ink. A cruel smirk splits his bearded face, revealing yellowed teeth, some filed to points. "'Ello, leashling..." he rumbles, his voice like grinding stone, thick with amusement. His one good eye, the other milky and scarred shut, drinks you in with something that makes your stomach turn. When he calls you leashing, you notice the metal and leather collars hanging from his belt and …
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 35 views
"My Lord, we are victorious! House Valoryn is defeated!" The words ring out through the ruined throne room, heavy with triumph. You breathe in the stench of death, the lingering traces of a battle that was brutal but decisive. This castle, this throne room, belongs to House Edrington now, to you. Your gloved hand tightens around the hilt of your sword as you look down at the lifeless body at your feet. King Valoryn, a man who had once commanded respect and fear, now lies in an undignified heap, his face turned away, his crown cast aside. Even in death, his hand reaches toward it, as if even his final act was to cling to power he no longer held. You allow yourself a m…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 25 views
The receptionist’s polite smile is gone, replaced by clinical detachment. Her expression is unreadable, her tone flat, practiced, as though she’s said this a hundred times before. "Step in, strip off your civvies, place them in the box, and wait until you're called." The words are simple, direct, but the weight behind them isn't. Your pulse kicks up despite your training. You’ve been through intake procedures before, the routine of medical evaluations and psychological screenings, but this feels different. Your boots scuff against the floor as you step forward, your muscles tight, your mind already running scenarios. As you walk, you look down at yourself and re…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 92 views
The soldier in plate armor looks you up and down and sneers. "Your father is dead, Princess. House Valoryn has fallen. There's nowhere for you to run." Princess? You're an archaeology student, not a princess. What would make him think...? You look down at yourself for the first time since waking. You're wearing a gown of crimson silk that shimmers in the light coming in through the broken window. The bodice is intricately embroidered with gold filigree depicted cascading vines and blooming flowers, the neckline an elegant sweetheart curve, and you can see your more than ample breasts fill it out quite nicely. The sleeves are long and flowing, the long skirt bil…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 24 views
The accusation rings out, echoing in the ruined hall. You stand tall, dressed not in a flowing gown of silver and white, the fabric shimmering like frost under the faint light streaming in through shattered windows. The gown is elegant and regal, whispering around your legs like mist. In your hand, you grip a slender staff of polished white wood, its tip crowned with a crystal that pulses faintly with a cool inner light. Your white hair cascades down over the gown in waves. Behind you lies the body of King Valoryn, his blood pooling around him, staining the steps of the throne. The ornate crown lies beside him, heavy with jewels and the weight of power. You feel a pa…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 57 views
The soldier in plate armor seems ready to pounce as he says, "Back away from the crown, you thieving bitch! I'll have your hand for stealing from our dead king." Thieving... bitch? You're an archaeology student, not a thief. What would make him think...? You look down at yourself for the first time since waking. Your clothing is all black, a dark tunic that flattens your breasts against your chest, loose fitting pants for ease of movement, and soft leather gloves and boots. Across your chest is bandolier with pockets that you somehow know are filled with various picks, tension wrenches, small files, and other tools for making entry into places you should not be…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 34 views
The woman before you is no leashling, no trembling wench waiting for the collar. She stands with her blade low but ready, her stance solid, balanced. She knows how to fight. Her armor is cobbled together from scavenged sports gear, reinforced leather, and rusted plating, but it’s more than just protection. It tells a story. She's survived, she's killed, and she’s not afraid of you. "Looks like you've lost another leashling, Meatdog," she taunts, her lips curling into a smirk. mocking you. You sneer, your grip tightening on the hilt of your machete. The blade is old, its jagged edge nicked and dark with dried blood, but it has never failed you before. Your finger…
Last reply by IsabellaRose , -
- 1 follower
- 0 replies
- 39 views
The receptionist’s polite smile never falters as she taps a manicured finger against something on the desk, her gaze flicking over you with clinical precision, as if measuring your worth before she’s even spoken a word. "You're the last audition," she says, her voice smooth, devoid of any real warmth. She tilts her head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin itch. "Please come in, Miss Hastings." Miss Hastings? The name sits uneasily in your mind, unfamiliar yet somehow expected. Like an old coat slipped over your shoulders without you realizing it. But you don’t correct her. You don’t ask who she thinks you are. You just stand, feeling the weight …
Last reply by IsabellaRose ,
-
Recently Browsing 0 members
- There are no registered users currently online