Author: Badsammie

No Happy Endings – A choose your own rape adventure!

This is my first choose your own rape adventure story, No Happy Endings (there is 1, kinda 2 happy endings I guess). I started this as a way to push my writing, exploring new options. I truly hope you enjoy it all. It can be downloaded here…

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1WI5lnMooe7CEzujQjKnFhLCHnjQDiLFU/view?usp=sharing

It’s an HTML file, self contained, that you have to download. Once downloaded, just open it with Chrome or whatever browser you use and enjoy. No risk of viruses, but feel free to check to ensure, as it is not something I can just post on here. A single starting path that leads to 16 different endings. I’m proud of it. And it is literally just a proof of concept. You see, I’m planning on something bigger.

If interested in learning about the bigger project, go here (https://www.reddit.com/r/Badsammie/comments/sqkepa/no_happy_endings_my_first_choose_your_own_rape/)

The steps come first – a semi fictional story (NC, touching)

All entities in this story are 18 or older.

I hear the steps first. Slow thuds ramping my anxiety with every step. They think they are being quiet, but I know the sound. I’ll never forget the sound of their steps.

They stop outside the door, making sure no one hears them. Making sure they hear nothing from my room. I see the shadow of their feet through the gap at the bottom of the door. I know by the movement of shadows before the faint creak of my door. Muffled. It used to be louder, but they oiled it I think. Only I hear them enter my room. It doesn’t feel like my room anymore. No room will truly feel mine again, I think.

Their breathing is hard, excited, driven here by a compulsion. Waiting for me to move, for someone to say something, any sound at all. Saying anything only delays. They always return. Sometimes I’m asleep, not just pretending, but it happens either way. A hand softly touches my leg, sliding up my gown. I can barely hear them touching themselves as they build up their courage. Light touches become more exploratory, only pausing for reactions. They have an excuse ready, I was having a nightmare, they investigated because of the sound I was making. Read more »

The worst betrayal is your own (M/F, manipulation, nonconsensual, masterbation, anal)

If it was violent, you can write it off. You can take that thought, focus on it. They did this. They forced me, they beat me, they hurt me. Any lubrication was my body trying to protect itself. A coping mechanism. Easy, plausible, deniable. Not so when it isn’t those closest to you making the greatest violation, not family, so called friends, acquaintances. Who do you blame when it was you who broke?

It all started when I couldn’t move, pinned down. Folded in half and feeling even smaller than I actually was. I’d been here before, willing and unwillingly in this position. Not with him, but it was an old dance, I know when I could fight and struggle and when it was best to let them finish. When you’re in agony, it’s easy to turn off your mind, at least in the moment. You just go away, staring off at that patch on the wall. No, with those, it’s only later that the thoughts won’t stop, where you slip into that spiral. Read more »

The belly doesn’t lie (M+F, gangrape, pee, drugged, pregnancy, incest, not graphic)

She rubbed her belly slowly, chewing her lip. She wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer, just wave it off as the Covid 20 so many have gained. No, that story wouldn’t be bought by anyone on another month. They’d know. Everyone would know. And then the questions would start.

“How did this happen? Who is the father? Why didn’t you practice safe sex? How could you do this to your family? Don’t you have any self respect? ” they’d all ask.

And she didn’t know how to answer any of that. Not fully anyway?

How? She went to a concert. Who? She had no idea. Why? Because she didn’t remember it. That night was just a blur. She remembered drinking a beer, her first. She remembered chatting and flirting with someone. She remembered feeling weak, being helped towards the bathrooms. Then nothing.

Nothing wasn’t quite true. She had glimmers, brief flashes, strangers, over her, grunting. Each one different. And then, blackness. Then morning, cold, almost freezing, in a porta-potty. Her purse and money gone. Her clothes reeking of smoke and beer and piss. Her thighs bruised, her pussy stained with dried cum. Even her ass hurt. She threw up, stumbled out, hitched a ride home. And cried. She didn’t tell anyone, just tried to forget, until she missed her period, until her belly started to grow. A surprise gift, her life ruined. Read more »

They were there from the beginning (M+/F, conditioning, objectification)

They were there from the beginning, the sinister men, the mean ones, the gentle daddies, always with her. They pushed and prodded her, fed her appetites and introduced her to the most twisted and delicious of foods. They taught her to cry, to savor, to need, to crave. And they only did it with words, twisting up her stomach as well as her thoughts, making her confuse sensations and emotions, lost in herself, trapped in her mind, all in front of the computer screen.

But, like any good junkie, dressing up, playing on webcam, stripping, exposing her soul, sharing her mind, demeaning herself, degrading herself, the fix was never enough. She couldn’t become less, there was always a spark, a light, that fought to stay aflame, words always buzzing in her mind. The cacophony, the symphony, it was too much and she simply needed MORE.

So, she began to seek those selfsame men in the flesh, no longer pretending they would do those things to her. She needed them to be done, riding the rickety roller-coaster to higher highs. The fact that the coaster was barely held together, ready to fall apart and come crashing down, that simply didn’t matter. Read more »

Conditioning (M/F, manipulation, references to past rape)

Despite being fully clothed, her heart was racing. She smiled, looking up at him as he laid down on the floor beside her. Fully twice her age, but handsome, strong. In control, above else, he was always that. He had weaponized his smiles, his frowns, and simple words. Her stomach spun in knots every time she was with him. He patted her exposed belly, rubbing it softly, smiling down at her young body.

“I want you to think about that first time you were molested. Fixate it in your mind, your feelings, your fears, your emotions. All of it, good and bad. Can you do that for me babygirl?” As he asked, he smoothly unbuttoned her jeans, sliding the zipper down. Then, ever so slowly he slid his hands down her pants, eyes never leaving hers.

“Don’t move, don’t talk. Just think of the first time. How you felt so small and weak. Powerless. You’ve told me that story so many times. The secret story you’ve only told me. How humiliated you felt after. How you blamed yourself. You still do don’t you?” Read more »

The broken doll

The broken doll bounced along life, chasing after any snippets of affection it could snag. Dating only briefly, freely giving of itself, desperate for a single momentary connection.

Daddies turned the doll into their dirty little girl, acting out with it in ways they always wanted to, but never could.  

Rough men took their frustration out on it, breaking the doll more, fracturing it. But even then, with black eyes and busted lips, it would cling to them as long as they would allow.

Sometimes the doll was drunk or high, sometimes sold, sometimes beat, sometimes even briefly liked, but no one cares to keep it long.

Not its father, not its uncle, not its stepdad, not any man, not for long. They all wanted it, but only for the night, only for its holes.

Too needy, too desperate, too clingy, pawned off to their friends, their dealers, or just shared around. It didn’t know love, just want, until it found the dark man.

It had been dancing along the edge, leaning over, deciding if it should jump when the man found it. A beaten, broken puppy dog, used up like the dirty condoms under the bridge. Read more »

The danger of talking big (M/F, NC, anal)

She loved to tease. Flaunting around guys, telling her girlfriends how she liked them big and strong. It was a fun little fantasy to push even if she’d never been with a big guy before. Oh she’d had sex, often, and enjoyed it, all her stories were bunk. It was vanilla, or something she’d read in a novel or online. Nothing tangible. Nothing real.

She loved the attention it gave her though, savored it, making sure to talk a bit louder at parties about the men the size of mountains she’d rode. She’d gossip, enjoying the gasps from some of her more conservative friends, the glances of some of the guys overhearing a bit, eyeing her up and down. It was a game and she thought she was the master of it. Always at the center of attention.

She was with her friends one night, a bachelorette party, talking up once again, when the man heard her big talk and knew it for the fraud it was. But he thought he’d educate her, teach her to speak the truth, and so he danced with her, bought her friends drinks, laughed at her insipid jokes, and flattered her more than she deserved. One subtle drop in her drink made her sluggish, sloppy, confused, and so, he separated her from her pack, bringing her not to her apartment, but his house. Read more »

Naked (MM/F)

It a delicious thing, being naked.

I don’t mean being nude, without clothes, though that can be part of it. The allure of nudity, the tease of near nudity, tight clothes making sweet promises to everyone who looks your way, desperate to see more than just a hint of a nipple, or underboob. Calling to them, begging them to watch for the chance of something more.

That nudity is wonderful, but that’s not what this is about. I’m talking about a different naked, a different type of exposed. The best, most open, honest form of it.

The bareing of ones soul. Your true self, ripped clean of any facades. No ego, no pride, no dignity, no sense of self. Shaved down to your core, reduced, emptied, vacant.

Pure.

Dressed in 6 inch heels, a plug glistening between their cheeks, a dress that covers you completely yet leaves nothing to the imagination. Every piercing pressed against sheer fabric, every step exposing every muscle. Existing for only the moment, only for them, a gift, a prize, a toy. Read more »

Picked up – (M/F, some nc, daddy issues)

She chewed her bottom lip, cherry red, as the stranger rubbed her swollen belly. He stared intensely at her chest and below, not caring for anything above her shoulders. Her halter top covered none of belly and barely contained the top 75% of her chest, growing almost as much as her stomach. She smiled at him, her look as vapid and empty as she felt, needed to feel like. He spit some tobacco on the bar floor, looking at her tits as he talked.

“Do you even know who the daddy is?” he asked rudely. She started to answer him until the glare in his eye told her to stay quiet. “Nah, dumb cunts like you never know, do you?” She shrugged, which bought her a slap to the face. Not hard, but it got her attention.

“I asked you a question you stupid bitch,” he said. She rubbed her cheek and lied, telling him she didn’t know. That made him smile as he rubbed her thigh at the bar, sliding his hand up. When she put her knees together, his dirty nails dug into her soft skin until she parted them. He didn’t care if people watched or saw, not that many were really watching them. It was late and most were drunk or just didn’t care. Read more »