Version 3.4 of my Omnibus is up!

As always, my linktree is the best place to find links to all my work.

You can access my Omnibus here - Warning, it now only downloads the HTML file. Just open it in the browser of your choice and it will work exactly as it did before as everything is self-contained in one file.

Anything tagged with an * cannot be found on Reddit.

Version 3.4
Continued to revise, tag, and date older stories
Added the following stories...
*Welcome to the family (Read the tags)

Version 3.3
Continued to revise, tag, and date older stories
Added the following stories...
*The breaking of the Batgirl (Added chapter 2)
*The Truth (extensive update)
*How I started online (extensive update)
She knew who she was

Version 3.2
Continued to revise, tag, and date older stories
Added the following stories...
It wasn't supposed to be like that
The breaking of the Batgirl

Self Destruction - Revised (violence, incest, drug abuse, prostitution, used up)

Liz walked unsteadily through the house. It was filthy and reeked, but she didn’t care to clean it. She didn’t care much about anything these days. Her eyes were glazed, both due to the drugs and the beatings she’d endured all night. Her right eye was swollen shut, her lip busted, nose caked red with dried blood.

And she was happy. She was self-destructing, not that she could have ever had put it in those terms, but she was spiraling hard. She loved it all, however. The pain, the abuse, ever since she was a little girl and her dad had touched her, and later his friends. She hated herself back then, for doing everything they made her. Especially if she had cum.

That seemed ages ago, even if it was only a few. She’d lived on the streets for a while after her dad had gotten arrested for a DUI, disappeared, and dropped out. No one had missed her. Except for the men on the street. Those men had noticed her very much. A dozen rapes in barely a week had reinforced everything she had ever known. Only one thing of hers mattered. Her holes.

If she wanted something, her holes got it for her. If she wanted attention, her holes got it for her. She thought she knew what love was, but it was a twisted dead version of love. She craved it, and attention, all the same. She was working the streets not long after, living with her dealer and pimp, living the high life.

And now, she was burned out, crashing. She had headaches all the time, and she had trouble focusing. Too much MDMA, too much drinking, too many concussions. Passed around, sold, used, and now, it was normal. It was Tuesday.

She had a new Daddy now, a dark daddy, who kept pushing her harder and harder. She knew he was going to shove her off the cliff one day, into the dark, and she’d be gone forever. She stopped in the hallway and fingered herself to that thought. If you tried to tell her how to be happy, have a normal life, and get married, the thought of that would have terrified her more than anything. She couldn’t comprehend such a thing.

But that cliff, oblivion, that made her wet, and she tasted herself and the cum drying on and in her cunt. One day it would come, and she would cum and then, she would be gone forever. And no one, no one would miss her. Except for the men on the street.

If you enjoy my work, everything I write and do can be found here -

Daddy's Fist - Revised (M/F, violent, donkey punched, molestation, nc, incest, anal, piss)

Emily barely noticed the movement of her dad’s fist before it connected with the side of her head, dropping her to the floor in an instant. She laid there, sobbing softly, trying not to throw up as everything spun around her. She feebly pushed herself up before he grabbed her hair and jerked her up to her knees, angling her head towards his face.

In the past, she would have begged, but she knew better these days. Begging only got you hit more, even crying often got you hit more. And since bruises drew attention, he focused them elsewhere. Her chest, her sex, and his favorite, her head. Instead, she did as expected and smiled at him through tear-stained eyes, clinging to his leg.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said, and he jerked her head back, spit on her face, then roughly yet expertly began fingering her. He had told her that he liked the duality of things, abuse and love, pain and lust, violence and cuddling. She believed him. She knew he was right, as he was at most things. He was right about her being a cunt, about her being stupid, about her being broken. She knew he was right because she was wet before he even touched her, despite her head still ringing, soaked. His fingers entered her cunt, his cunt, easily as he kissed her deeply. She tensed her thighs around his hand and then screamed into his mouth as his thumb and finger mashed her clit. Then he stood her up, still crushing her bud, before he shoved her hard into her bedroom wall. Her back and head bounced off the drywall, dazed, sliding down before his hand grabbed her throat.

“Mmmm, I love it when your eyes get all glassy, you dumb bitch,” her father said, before spinning her around and shoving her face-first into the wall. He kicked her legs apart and spit on his hand, shoving two fingers in her ass. Emily grunted but again said nothing. She could barely focus anyway. He was in a hitting mood and it was best just to let him vent. He pulled out his fingers and smeared them on her lips, then shoved his cock in her ass, smashing her against the wall. He pumped vigorously, reaming her tiny body while hitting the small of her back, her sides. Not enough to bruise, just to hurt.

“Mmmm, I love you spasming on my cock, tighten up more,” he said before slapping her head repeatedly. She started bawling now, scared, as he slammed her harder and harder against the wall. Emily knew what was coming, his new favorite trick, that he loved to do when he was angry. Her ass burned, and then, nothing.

The next thing she knew, she was sliding down the wall as he stood back. She threw up on herself, her head exploding with pain. He’d donkey punched her. She couldn’t focus on anything, just pain and confusion. He stood close and it took her a moment to realize that he was wiping his cock off with her hair. She cried like a baby as he walked out.

A minute, or ten, it was hard for her to tell, he came back in and pushed a pacifier in her mouth. She started sucking on it instantly, holding onto his leg as he told her what a good and brave little girl she was. Still sobbing, she was a total mess with bloody cum leaking out of her ass, snot on her nose, and vomit on her chest. He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom. There he drew her a bath and washed her, Emily let go, only the warm water and the pacifier keeping her grounded.

She watched her dad as he checked her eyes, telling her she was a bit stupider now, that he’d concussed her. She wanted to cry, but instead thanked him, and he took her head and pulled it to the side of the tub. She sucked on his head like it was her paci until he started to piss. Holding her mouth open, he pissed on her face, hair, and in her mouth. Then, after swallowing, he held onto her while she showered off. Emily got dressed in a tiny pink nightgown, crawling into bed with her father, where, as she held her stuffie and sucked her thumb, he fucked her slowly, gently this time. He stroked her belly when he was done.

“I’m gonna pull you out of school soon, baby girl. We’re gonna homeschool you for your last year, I think. Might even just have you drop out since you're eighteen now. Is your head still hurting?” he asked, and Emily nodded back yes, holding tighter to her stuffie.

“Good,” was all he said, caressing the back of her head as he spooned her. And she felt safe in his arms even though she had to get up to throw up once. He was making her better, she knew. He loved her, and she’d let him destroy her. Because she was broken and right where she belonged.

If you enjoy my work, everything I write and do can be found here -

Her first concert - Edited (M+/F, drugged, drunk, nc, filmed, oral, anal, abuse, conditioned, puke, incest)

Amy felt naked in the throng of people as they screamed and shouted at the concert. It was her first concert, a real one, all by herself at eighteen. Her parents were religious and very conservative and had always restricted such things. She had even told her parents she was meeting her friends there, which originally hadn't been a lie. But then, Allison had been grounded and Jaime's parents had some kind of out-of-town emergency. She still wanted to go as she'd spent weeks saving up for it. And she didn't want to be denied but as she still lived under their roof, they would have demanded she not go. So she had begged her friends to not say anything, to cover for her, and they had. And now, she was here.

She'd been so excited at first, it was an outdoor concert, with no seats. She'd dressed a bit heavy for the weather, in layers so her parents wouldn't make a fuss. Once she'd been dropped off, however, she had gone to one of the portapotties. It reeked, even this early, as she slipped out of her jeans and blouse. She put them in her purse, a large one that her mom had questioned her about. She had told her a large one would be harder to lose. She slid her slim purse out of it, barely big enough to hold a few cards, along with her skirt. She tossed the clothes she'd taken off into it and zipped it up. She put on the short denim skirt and adjusted it, smiling. It looked a little trashy, as she wore just it, a halter top, and a push-up bra that left little to the imagination. She had dated a college guy who liked it and wearing it always made her feel sexy.

Changed, she left the portapotty and searched for an out-of-the-way place to hide her purse. She found a good spot between some trailers that were set up. Amy glanced around and when no one was looking, shoved it behind the tires of one, out of view. If it got stolen, there was no money, just the clothes. Sure, she'd get grounded for changing her outfit, but the concert would be over by then. She smiled, not realizing someone else had watched her as she bounded off towards the check-in. She got in and was shocked by how many people were just openly smoking; cigarettes, pot, vapes. Despite the check-in, alcohol seemed to be around everywhere too. At first, it was cool. Some guy offered her a solo cup, which she took and sipped at the bitter taste, as she tried to act like it was nothing. Then the concert's opening act began.

She had thought it was warm earlier, but as more and more people piled in, she began to feel clammy and sticky. People were constantly pushing and shoving her and she kept nursing her drink. Her anxiety was cranked up as she felt smashed in from all sides. She sweated more, felt like it was impossible to breathe, as she finished her drink and dropped it on the grass. The concert had started in earnest now but she felt both overwhelmed by the mass surrounding her and strangely numb. She stumbled, pushed forward against the railing, and gripped it tight. She was soaked in sweat, deafened by the cheers, and wanted to vomit. Her legs felt like rubber and it was all she could do to stand. She weakly muttered for people to back off, but they didn't. And then, she felt it.

As she felt weaker, numb among the masses around her, someone was rubbing her ass. Not accidental, it was a firm hand that grabbed the meat of her butt. She tried to turn her head but it was easily pushed forward. A hand pulled up her meager skirt, cupped her crotch, and made her bend over even more. To anyone around it just looked like some festival slut was about to get fingerbanged. No one cared. She looked out of it, probably rolling, they thought. She struggled to focus and keep standing as their finger probed, teased her ass, then slipped inside her pussy. There, the finger did slow circles as they explored her virginal hole. They held their hand against her chest and massaged it, then pulled up her bra so they could rub her erect nipples. She was aware of all of that yet couldn't control her movements. They held her in that position for a couple minutes as her struggle to control herself weakened. She grew wet, moaned as someone snapped a picture with their phone then went back to enjoying the concert. Then her muscle control left and when she slumped, they gripped her tighter, whoever they were. She heard a voice, a man saying someone had too much to drink. She didn't know who he was talking about, but she was pulled up, lifted, and held as she floated or was carried away.

Amy tried to call for help, but her limbs, her voice, nothing would respond. She barely felt herself being jostled by people through the crowd, the same voice laughed about some girl having too much. She'd only had one beer, she thought, the heat and it both must have done something. She didn't realize that the proffered beer had come from the same man who'd been watching her, waiting. She watched as the crowd thinned, as he took her out the side, waited, and passed the lax security. And then, they were in a parking lot. So many people headed into the concert and no one noticed them leaving it, or cared.

He stopped and she heard a door being slid open. She was laid down on her back in what was clearly a van. He climbed in and closed the door and she realized that he was the man who'd given her the beer. She screamed in her head but nothing worked other than the smallest of grunts. It took everything she had to even focus her eyes on him. He smiled and pulled out a knife. She thought at first he was going to kill her, but then heard the tearing of her clothes. He sliced through her skirt and tossed it to the side. It landed next to a large purse, her purse, that she'd hidden. She heard another rip and her panties joined the growing pile. Her top and bra came next, then her socks and shoes. He leaned over and grinned.

"I just want you to know, if you can understand me, that you're never going home. Don't cry though, I promise, I won't kill you. You'll be ours forever," he said as he stroked her cheek, then felt her up. He cupped both of her ample breasts and tweaked her nipples, as if he was sizing her up. Satisfied, he applied something that felt cold between her legs and unzipped himself. Amy couldn't see but could barely feel his cock as it slid up and down her pussy and pressed it against her labia. Then he pushed into her, softly at first, then back out and thrust in deep as he tore away her virginity. His palm pressed hard onto her chest, almost mashing her breast, the other hand gripping her slim hip. She grunted, numb to most of it, still unable to move as sweat dripped on her face in the hot van. He didn't last long. She was so tight and he was too excited. She saw him shudder and felt some warmth between her legs. Then he stood up and grabbed a camera, taking pictures of her. Her face, her discarded clothes, her slim frame, the white leaking between her legs. He spread her lips and took more pictures. After taking dozens of them, he tied her up. There was a large black rubber storage container among the tools and implements in the back of the van. He picked her up and put her in the container, folding up her limp body to fit in it. The last thing he did was use a needle to inject something into her arm as he pulled the lid over her. She heard it snap tight, alone in complete darkness, and then, nothing at all as she faded away.

Amy's first awareness after that was moving. Her eyes fluttered as fuzzy images moved around. She wrinkled her nose at the thick smell of smoke as she was tossed to the floor. She bounced a bit, confused until she realized she was on a mattress just laying on the floor. She realized she was still naked and tried to cover herself up as she glanced about. The room was dark, out of focus. Something smelled bad, like stale pee. Three glowing red rights stared at her in the darkness. The smoke smell grew stronger and she saw shapes moving in the dim light. Everywhere around her was concrete except for the mattress she was on. An occasional flash blinded her, as voices and reality slowly sharpened into focus. The red lights were on what looked like video cameras on tripods. She couldn't clearly see the shapes but knew they were people. One of the fuzzy shapes walked over to her.

"Since you liked being around so many people dressed like a whore, we figured we'd help you be one," he said. As he knelt beside her, she recognized that he was the one who'd raped her in the van. She started to scream "no" but he grabbed her and forced a tab in her mouth. She wanted to spit it out but he kept her mouth shut. She felt it dissolve and only then did he let her go. He then told her to snort something and she shook her head no. He pulled out a phone and started playing a video. In the dark, it almost blinded her, but she heard it just fine. On the screen, there was a girl about her age that was crying. The girl's face was a bloody mess. Her mouth and nose were bleeding and had bruises all over her emaciated body. Amy watched in terror as they hit her and even threw her at the wall. The man stopped playing the video and looked at her.

"We can make a couple different videos. We might even decide to. But right now, we just want to film a cunt get ruined. We don't have to break you. Now, I don't care if you've snorted anything in your life. The MDMA we gave you is gonna make you feel good. This shit will perk you up. Or we can just beat you and bury you beside that girl. The choice is yours, cunt,"

Amy cried, shaking, then snorted like she was told. It burned her nose as he told her to do the other line. Her nose started running bad, dripping, as she shook, feeling very aware and more awake now. He stood her up on the mattress as bright lights blinded her some more.

"Name. Age," a voice asked. When she failed to respond immediately, the man beside her slapped her and the voice repeated itself. "Name. Age."

"," she said. She started to cover herself up but was slapped in the face again by the man who'd taken and raped her. "Amy. I... I'm 18," she said. As she said that the man beside her grabbed her wrists and lifted her hands up as someone else stepped in closer to take pictures. Amy felt like crying but couldn't. Her body was both amped and sluggish and was left feeling warm but detached from the mix of drugs she'd gotten. He spun her around and parted her ass as more flashes happened. She was turned around one more time and then he slapped her down to the mattress. She felt strange. Her cheek burned, the flashing lights hurt her eyes, but the fabric felt good. She couldn't grasp that they'd dosed her hard at every turn as her heart thundered in her chest. Her head was pulled up as the man knelt before her again.

"We're going to do things. Bad things to you," he said, putting his hand on her chest. He chuckled as he felt the hammering of her heart. One thirty? One forty? "You go with it as much as you can and we can be nice. We're not gonna make love to you. It's gonna hurt. But, and this is important. You don't have to be that girl buried in the woods out back. Just be a good cunt and we'll make you feel things you didn't know were possible. Nod if you understand."

Amy shook as she nodded, but she couldn't tell if that was how amped she felt or because of him. She did start crying, uncontrollably, for a few seconds until he slapped her. Then she nodded again as the man stood and unzipped, freeing the cock that had defiled her earlier. He nodded and she knew what he wanted. The image of the screaming bloody girl fresh in her mind, she went down on him, only the third man she'd ever done so with. She gripped his cock with a shaking hand and slid it up and down as her boyfriend had liked. Then she leaned forward and took the tip into her mouth. It tasted salty and she realized he hadn't cleaned himself since he'd raped her. That was probably the coppery taste, she thought, shocked at how calm she was. For some reason, she liked the warmth of it. She wanted to lay her head on it, as she bobbed and looked up at him. He was actually smiling at her. Then he slapped her again though not as hard as before.

While Amy was stunned, he pulled her hands off his cock. She winced as he balled her hair tightly in his hand and started ramming his dick in her mouth. She'd seen videos of it before and once her boyfriend had pushed her head down as he'd cum, but this was totally different. She tried to jerk away but he had a death grip on her hair and it felt like he was ripping it out by the roots as he all but slammed her face into his belly again and again. She wasn't sure what was worse. The first dozen or so thrusts that jabbed at the roof and back of her mouth or when he hit the back of her throat repeatedly and then went deeper. She fought, terrified then, unable to breathe, slapping at his legs. Her nose started to run more as drool danced in strings off her chin. He jerked her head off and backhanded her, then shoved her back down. This time, she retched, and when he didn't let up, puked all over his cock. He didn't stop, even as she flailed and pulled some of her own hair out as she struggled. Up and down, tasting the bile in her mouth, her throat raw and bruised, as he slammed harder and harder. After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled her off his cock and shoved her face-first into her vomit. She whimpered, a thin stream of red leaked from her nose as he jacked off and came on her hair and cheek. He purposely stepped on her as he walked off, left panting and crying in her own filth.

Amy didn't move, just breathed raggedly, as someone stepped closer. The camera flashes made her wince as they got a good view of her defilement. She just lay there until another man came to her. He grabbed her hair as well, then rubbed her face in the mess before pulling her up. He pointed to her cock, already erect and she did the same as before. She started slow, but before long, he was pounding her throat. He rammed in her throat as hard as he could. The pain was unbearable and soon she had puked on him. This man smeared it all over her face, then resumed. He constantly slapped the back of her head as if that could make his cock go any deeper in her gullet. The pain in her throat was agony, she couldn't even scream as that hurt. He came down her throat and then used his fingers to gag her until she threw up again. She couldn't stop shaking when he left her limp on the filthy mattress as the man with the camera took dozens of more close-up pictures.

The next man plopped onto the mattress with her, as far from her mess as he could be. He used her hair to pull her to him and she just whimpered hoarsely. He pulled Amy onto his lap and she felt his cock twitch against her ass. He was hairy and naked like the others. He spread her legs and started rubbing her pussy as he kissed the cleaner side of her face and neck. After what had gone on before, this felt positively blissful and she couldn't help but moan. Every touch felt electric, almost enough to ignore her raw throat, but she wasn't sure why. Her skin, his skin, it all felt unnaturally warm. She closed her eyes as he sucked on her neck. His sucking grew harder and harder and she knew he was giving her a hickey. She whimpered some more as he groped her budding chest and ground his cock against her ass. After a few minutes, he tilted her head and did the same. The skin of her neck throbbed and ached as he sucked even harder. Then he bit her, his teeth digging into her throat. The teeth dented and tore at her skin. She let out a feeble scream as he fingered her, convulsing as he played with her. His fingers danced along her sex, soaked, as her legs twitched. He stopped and let her rest for a moment, limp putty against him. Her heart hurt like she was running full out. She couldn't breathe steadily and would have trembled if not braced against the man. A bruise formed on one side of her neck and a slightly bloody ring graced the other. Someone handed him a bottle and he pulled her head back. She was forced to drink vodka, which burned her throat and neck when some spilled on it. Amy thought she was drowning in the drink, as he pushed the tip into her mouth, choking and swallowing as much as she could. She struggled, but he kept forcing her until she had drank or spilled most of it. Then he pushed her forward and she felt a new sensation. His tongue in her ass.

"Uhnnn.....please," was all she could say, barely a whisper.

At first, it was confusing. It felt good. All the touches felt good. Her skin felt wrong in the best way possible. The warmth of his tongue was overwhelming. The wet saliva running down. But it was mixed with everything else. Her throat felt ruined. Everything was hyperreal and in slow motion. It was hard to think and focus. Her body didn't feel like it was her own. When he stopped licking her ass she whimpered and then, Amy screamed. A real scream that hurt her throat even more. He had just slammed into her ass, hard. No attempt to let her get used to it, to work it in. Just one thrust that tore her as he shoved into it. His weight crushed her to the floor as they recorded her every scream and cry. The cameraman got close to her face, catching her tears of agony. The man, other than his cock, didn't hurt her. He used his weight and strength to keep her in place as he violated her ass. He almost was using her to masturbate. He dragged her back and forth on his cock as he did everything he could to make that hurt. Luckily, it didn't take long for him to cum in her guts. Then he flipped her over and had her clean him. She tasted her blood and worse. When she tasted a chunk, she puked up some of the vodka. When he was clean, he pushed her back down, face first, and pulled her ass back up. She briefly saw a bottle brought to him and then, more pain in her ass. The bottle was shoved into her as cold and burning filled her ass. She didn't know why they did that but the pain was unbearable. They held her still in that position for a few minutes, too weak to struggle as the rest of the night rapidly got fuzzy.

Everything else after that were glimpses. Men, many more men. Demons in the night made her scream even more somehow. She remembered fur, she thought, or maybe barking in the distance as some girl cried. And the flashes, the flashes never stopped.

Amy didn't know that when she next woke up it was 2 days later. Days would soon no longer hold any meaning for her. Just before and after. They left her in the basement, without light. Her only interactions were with them bringing her food and making her service multiple men orally. Otherwise, they let her recover. A TV ran a loop of her "masterpiece" as she got to see every degrading thing they did to her. Tabs and pills and drinks were given to her liberally to ensure no fight was in her. When she finally touched herself to her own abuse one day they smiled. Every weekend brought a fresh hell, but she was a compliant and good girl. They even started showing her the full video of the girl before her. They showed her that video to remind her to be good and after months, she even started touching herself to that.

And then, Amy's life changed again. The flashes were blinding her as always. She didn't care though. She felt warm as the man's skin below her felt amazing as they grinded together. His cock thrust hard into her ass as her hips worked back and forth. Like her cunt, it was almost a smooth red hole, always ready for more. She gagged herself on the cock of the other man beside her. The one who'd taken her, not that she thought about it much anymore. Her glassy eyes gave a good indication of all thinking she did. She knew to make it messy and that puking was best with him. She pinched herself and acted like the whore she was. If she was good, they gave her more drugs. She could then just curl up in warm fuzziness and nothing mattered until the next man. That's when the screaming started. She heard loud bangs and was shoved off their cocks. She touched herself as she watched everyone running about, but she didn't stop fucking herself with her fingers. You never stopped for the cameras until you were told. She dipped two fingers into her cunt as new flashes erupted along with more screaming. She was about to cum when a strange man in goggles and body armor grabbed her as two more men put magic holes in the men who had just been fucking her. She rubbed his crotch and expected him to pull out his cock when they dragged her away from the basement. That's when she freaked out. Amy started screaming, clawing and twisting, as they tried to take her away from her home. She hit and kicked them until someone bear-hugged her as another poked her with a needle and they held her until the world faded away.

And like that, half a year later, she was returned to her family. She was 19 now apparently. That's what they told her. They told her so many things. That she was safe. That things were going to be ok. Life was going to be normal for her again. She could go to college. Don't do drugs. Stop rubbing yourself in public. They didn't understand why she tried to kiss people or why she had been caught fingering herself in the grocery store. They couldn't understand how insane she felt without constant physical stimulation. They told her those things were wrong but what was wrong was the constant numbness she felt. She couldn't explain that the daily cocktail of drugs had left her empty and gray unless the most intense things were happening to her. They couldn't understand her brain had been fried from 6 months of hard use and drugs. She didn't understand these things herself. They wanted her daughter back. But she was dead like that girl that she missed watching and touching herself to. She just wasn't buried there. She was surrounded by people who loved her and yet she had never been more completely alone.

Late one night a month later she woke up. She was wet, she always was wet. Even if she didn't touch herself, her body wanted to be touched. She stumbled, walking through the house, one hand rubbing her eyes as the other rubbed her cunt. No, she was supposed to call it a vagina or a pussy now. She shrugged and put the thought away as she found her father in front of the TV. He was drinking again, he did that often now. She had trouble remembering but she didn't think he did that much before. He looked sad as he watched videos of a girl on the screen. It took her several moments to realize they were of her. From before. She bit her lip and frowned. She didn't like sad, couldn't handle it. So she coped with it how she coped with everything anymore. She slid her pajamas off and walked beside her dad as she fingered herself. She took his drink and chugged it down and smiled. She had missed that taste so much. She noticed him watching her. She didn't understand he was in shock, drunk, and confused by her actions. She took his inaction as an invitation. She leaned down and kissed him as a daughter should never kiss her father. She reached down and felt him stiffen. Quickly, missing the contact, even the taste, she pumped his cock and slid down. He started to stop her but once her mouth swallowed him, he was lost. Not as lost as she was, but lost all the same.

For Amy, it was the first time she'd felt alive since they "rescued" her. Her father tasted like those other men as she slurped and ground her cunt on her hand. She only wished she had the tabs that made everything feel so wonderful on her skin. Her tongue swirled over his cock as she gagged herself on it. She didn't know she'd given him a new kink that night. She looked at him as drool dripped down her chin and strung down to his cock. Then she climbed on her father's lap and loved him as she had never loved him before. He weakly tried to stop her but his grunts were as loud as hers. Even when her mom came into the room, she didn't stop, not until she felt his heat in her. She was used to screaming but most of it was directed at her dad. She was pulled off him and her parents fought, screaming, and he cried. They didn't understand. She went back to her room and tasted his cum and rubbed herself until she orgasmed. They stopped fighting when they heard her but she didn't know why or care. After she came, she fell asleep.

Her dad wasn't around after that and soon, neither was she. Her mom only got more restrictive until the house was an inverse of the basement. At least in the basement, she had felt something. They didn't understand her anymore. She didn't understand herself. So she left and this time, no one really looked for her. She found men though. They were always easy to find. Men that would love her and make her feel alive. They gave her things to snort and swallow and inject, and things were right again.

She didn't even realize it, but one day she found herself working at the park. The same park where her life had changed. Another concert was going on and she was picking up quickies for her pimp, her Daddy. He took care of her and always made her feel good. Blowjobs in cars or standing behind a tree as some stranger paid for her cunt or ass. She was rolling herself so the rough bark felt good as it ground against her skin as some guy twice her age filled her ass. She put the money in her little purse and walked on the edge of the crowd. She was oblivious to the streak of cum leaking out of her when a man turned her around. She smiled at him, now, blossoming and looking closer to 30 or 35, as she took a drag from her cigarette. He looked vaguely familiar to her as she told him her rates. He looked sad, handed her a 50, and then her father took her to the woods to recapture a forbidden moment with the cunt that had been his daughter.

If you enjoy my work, everything I write and do can be found here -

Stepdads are the worst - A Badsammie Fictional Story (M/f, rape, drugged, molested, peed on, incest, cum in panties, reluctance)

This is the edited version. The original version will be in v1.6 of the Omnibus or can be found here -

Samantha brushed her teeth as she flicked through her phone with her free hand. She flicked from one TikTok to the next, not really paying attention, just passing the time as she got ready. She had woken up only a few minutes earlier, the annoying blare of her phone's alarm jarring her from a blissful sleep. A quiet sleep where no dreams or thoughts had tormented her. That was a rarity, and she somewhat resented her phone for waking her. She finished brushing and spat in the sink, rinsing the water away, then sat down on the toilet. She let out a sigh as she peed, staring blankly ahead. And then, he came in.

Ray. When her Mom first started dating him, she'd been happy for her. She'd been so depressed ever since Dad had left her. Left them. So her going out again, being so active, was a good thing. It had been wonderful to see that spark in her again. So full of life. It had been a whirlwind romance played fast forward. In less than six months, they were engaged and ready to be married. He'd even been nice to her, but she slowly noticed more and more things about him. His eyes were the first thing she noticed. The flashes of anger in them quickly tamped down. Just there, but enough for her to notice. Then the tone of his voice would change, firm, demanding. The words were still polite, but it was clear the intent had changed. Obey. Or else.

Then came the lingering stares. At 18, Samantha was slim and soft. She still only had peach fuzz and small breasts that wished they could fit a B cup. She stared jealously at her friends whose puberty had hit harder. She'd seen how other men and boys noticed her friends but not her. But Ray? Ray looked at her like like that. He didn't see her friends, just her. And at first, that was actually nice. She even encouraged it a bit, showing him a bit more skin. He didn't seem to like that. Instead, he often helped put her hair in pigtails and bought her dresses. They were cut funny, the dresses. They almost looked like little girls' dresses, but they fit tight and short. But she loved the way he smiled and kissed her head. And so, everything was alright.

Her mom had married him, 6 months to the day they had met. After that, things changed. It quickly became clear that he now was running the house. His word was the only law that mattered. He still doted on her Mom, took her out, and treated her nice. But any challenge was instantly shut down. Often with a slap and harsh words. And her mom? She just took it. Terrified to be left again, she did everything she could to make him happy. And when he was happy, they all were happy. But it took more and more to make Ray happy.

His stares lingered more and more on her. If he bought her a dress, he wanted her in it, immediately, turning her around, inspecting her. Ray began to massage her shoulders often, sniffing her hair. And walking by him when he watched TV, he'd often pull her on his lap. Poking into her rear, grinding, telling her how lovely she'd gotten. Then the bathroom door was opened, despite it being locked. Coming in as she showered because he "couldn't hold it". Leering at her through the glass as he pissed. Then one day, the doorknobs to the bathroom and her bedroom were changed. They could no longer be locked. Sticky panties in her laundry. And then it had happened.

She had woken up one Saturday, groggy, confused, and disorientated. It was already pushing 11 AM and she never slept that late, even on the weekend. She sat up and felt pain in her groin, like someone had kicked her. There was a bit of blood and she thought she had had her period at first. She limped slowly to the bathroom, wincing as she had sat down. A little blood came out when she peed milky white urine. She walked slowly to the living room and told them how she was feeling. She missed the long, lingering glance her mother gave her stepdad. The longer silence as he stared back at her. Then her mom got up and said she'd get her some ibuprofen and not to worry about it.

She did, however, when it happened the next two weekends. Groggy, fuzzy, weak in the late morning, one day sleeping until 1 PM. Sore, but no more blood. Then she slowly put it together. Mom's reassurances that her period hadn't come early. Why they had refused to take her to the clinic to check her out. And so, she had been careful the next Friday. Poured out her drink, picked at her food, and waited. She ended up wishing she'd drank her drugged drink after. Ray's sweaty body climbed over her, shocked to find her awake, then he smiled. Her screams didn't stop him. They didn't bring her mother. After a while, her screams stopped, just crying and taking it. She didn't even move when her mom came in and cleaned her. She took some pills and swallowed and slept hard.

And now? Now the pretense had ended. He just went where he wanted, did what he wanted. Like now, walking into the bathroom. She saw the hungry look in his eyes. Remembered her mom's repeated lesson. When he's happy, we're all happy. And no matter what, Mom was going to make him happy. And now it was Samantha's job as well. He smiled down at her, stroking her hair and cheek as she sat there. She tried to close her legs but he stopped her. Forced them wide, then pulled his sweats down as well. She looked away as he started peeing, mostly between her legs in the toilet, but on her belly and crotch too. As he did so, he patted her head and told her what a good girl she was. When he finished, he made her lick the tip and pulled her up. He wiped her, kneeling, tasting her as he bent her forward. God, she hated him.

And then, his large warm hand was on her belly, firm, strong. The other hand gripped her shoulder tight and kept her immobile. Butterflies exploded in her gut when he held her that way. And that's when she hated herself all the more. She almost wished he beat her. That he punched her, but no. He had, but lately, he'd been almost gentle and that was somehow all the worst. She gripped the top of the toilet as he positioned her, and felt warmth as he spat on her slit. Then a soft moan escaped as the head slid up and down it. Her moan. She wanted to die, to puke in the toilet. Instead, she shivered and waited for the part he never did gently.


He didn't ease in. She felt his hands grip her tighter on her belly and shoulder, a sudden thrust, and then, impaled, so small under him. She began to cry as he kissed her head, the nape of her neck, telling her she was a woman now. She let go of the toilet and gripped his arms tightly, as he held and used her. She didn't realize or notice the drool that ran down her chin, stringing against the toilet. She didn't hear her grunts and moans as she shook. She was barely even aware of her crying, both in pleasure and pain. She just knew that what he was doing now was worse than drugging her and raping her in her sleep. He made her enjoy it.

Tears dripped along with her drool on the toilet for long minutes as he fucked her. His initial rough pace slowed to gentle circular thrusts. The hand on her belly slid up, pinching at her nipples, and then down to her clit. Only when she began to buck and quiver did he speed up. And then, she shook hard, crying more. Followed by his whisper.

"That's a good cunt," he told her, and then, he sped the intensity up, holding her, fucking her harder and harder. She welcomed the pain now. It distracted from what her body had just done. She was surprised when he stopped and pulled out of her, weak-kneed, jerking her standing by her hair.

"Get the panties you're wearing to school today, NOW!" he said. When she didn't move for a second he slapped her and Samantha bolted. She came back and told her to put them on now. As she did, he jerked his cock, pulled her close, and kissed her deeply. She was confused, her emotions all over the place, as he pulled out her panties and came on them, making sure it pooled in the center. Then he pulled the wet fabric up against her. Ray kissed her again and told her to get dressed. She did, sore and wet. He had her sit on his lap for breakfast. Her mom said nothing, all smiles. The perfect family. And then, she went to high school, sticky, aching, and ever the more confused.

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