Dare Stories Novels & Stories

A new post from the same anonymous account. "That was just the beginning. Over the next few days, I'll be posting more of Lila's stories. Stories about other guys at school. You might even find yourself in one of them. Stay tuned to see just how perverted Lila Richmond really is." My hands were shaking. This person did not just have one story. They had multiple stories. Stories about different people. I had written so many over the past year. Stories to process my confusing feelings. Stories about Ryan. Stories about Derek before I knew him. Stories about random guys I found attractive. Stories that were never meant to be read by anyone.

Dare says and I laugh. “Honestly, we're not that complex. You just need to be understanding to get us. Like sometimes we want your attention but there are also times we want to be alone. We can be hungry for chocolate today doesn't mean we want that every single day. It's just about asking us what we want and you'll get an answer. It's as easy as that.” “You see as I am here eh," Dare says. “If I'm hungry, you'll know. If I'm sad, you'll know. If I'm dead, you don't even need to ask me to know.”

“Had sex in my dad’s office during a company party. Girl from Westbridge. We snuck up there during cocktail hour.” “Jesus Christ,” Cole says. “Your dad’s office? That’s ballsy.” “That’s the point. It wouldn’t have been hot otherwise.” Nash raises his glass. “I respect that.” “My turn,” I say. “Cole. Truth or dare.” “Dare.” “I dare you to tell us something you’ve never told anyone.” “That’s a truth question.” “Then answer it like a dare.” He’s quiet for a second. “I hooked up with Sarah Mitchell last year. At Marcus Bennett’s party. In his parents’ bed.”

Later, in the dark, he traced the welts on her skin with apologetic fingers. “We’re burning out,” she whispered. He didn’t answer. Just pulled her closer, as if he could fuse them together and stop the spiral. The next dare was scrawled on the bathroom mirror in her lipstick, bold and red. **Dare #11: Confess to Mom. Tell her what her stepkids do when the lights go out.** Alex stared at the words until they blurred. The game had always lived in the shadows; this would drag it into daylight. She wiped the mirror clean with her sleeve, leaving streaks like blood.

It was a collection of stories never told. She called it: “Flames That Almost Were.” She asked each family member to share something they hadn’t said before. Hope shared a letter she wrote but never sent, to a Seed Center student who dropped out and disappeared. Ayden shared a poem he wrote in a refugee camp that he was too afraid to perform. Liana shared a lullaby her grandmother whispered only once, the night before she passed. Even Damon contributed. His story was simple: a fear he once had that he would never be a good father. He wrote it down, folded it carefully, and handed it to Grace with a smile.

He gestured to a half-empty bottle of whiskey and a few shot glasses already set out on a small table. My eyes widened. “Is this even legal?” “We’re bikers, sweetheart,” Dare said with a laugh. “Legal is a suggestion, not a rule.” Reluctantly, I agreed. What else was there to do? Trapped in bed, surrounded by four attractive, partially bandaged men. The game started innocently enough. Silas asked Dare a truth: “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done on a run?” Dare grumbled but recounted a story about losing his pants during a particularly wild ride through a small town. We all laughed.

I eagerly straightened my back and waved my hands in the air, “No, please don’t worry. I will never tell anyone” Dacre chuckled, “Even if you do tell anybody, I doubt they would believe you.” I sighed. Part of it was true. Demons and monsters were what we used to listen to as stories that would put pups to sleep, not make grown up men and women cower in fear. They were just a folktale that nobody believed in but were told to the kids to make them behave. “So the demons are real. The stories are real…” I muttered to myself. Dacre looked troubled but he said something that made me think,

In an eerily calm voice, I asked, "Aren't we playing Truth or Dare, Ms. Stuart? I chose dare, so I picked someone to carry out the dare with. What's wrong with that?" "Why, you…" Whitney trembled hard, so outraged that she could barely speak. "How dare you choose to accept that dare? What gives you the audacity? You could've just accepted the punishment instead! Who the hell do you think you are?" "Hm?" I raised a brow, my tone mocking. "So you do know the rules of this game, then? Which means you could've conceded earlier and taken three penalty shots instead. So why did you choose to go ahead with the dare? Are the rules of the game different when it comes to you?"

CHAPTER 82 Scarlett Rhea walked away, and just as Daniel was about to follow after her, the reporters blocked him. “Mr. Cross, what could come from this talk?" “Are you and Scarlett planning on getting back together?" “Is there something you want to tell us?" “No," I smiled, looking into the camera. “Ms. Brown you're said to be one of the most inspiring designers around here. What would you tell aspiring ones?" “To work like their lives depend on it. "

Maggie paused, “Remind me, how did you ruin your hair again?” I took a deep breath. “I’ve already said this a thousand times. I wanted to go for a walk but I knew mother wouldn’t let me. So, I jumped out of the window and landed on the garden, tripped and fell into mud. I’m sorry.” Maggie shrieked, “What kind of bride jumps out of a window on her wedding day? What if you broke your leg or worse…your neck?” The kind that’s not going to tell you she washed her hair because it was covered in cum.