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

To fill the emptiness - Revised (M+/F, rape baiting, drunk, fingered, punched, rape, anal, oral)

Her hands trembled as she put on her makeup. Abigail normally only used a light amount but tonight she was caking it on. She barely recognized herself in the mirror. Her heart jumped as she checked herself out. She was a slim and short woman, barely 5’3 and 100lbs soaking wet. She did have a decent chest but otherwise lacked any curves. It wasn’t that she was ugly, just plain. It was how she looked, how she dressed, it was just her natural order. Her truth. Or so she had thought.

She had read erotica before, dirty little stories online. She didn’t care for the fake or professional porn videos, but a well-written story always got her warmed up. And then one day, she had read a story with rape in it. Violent rape. And she had masturbated to a powerful, if guilty, orgasm. After that, it became more and more frequent. Eventually, while looking for rape stories she found a rape kink site and learned about rape baiting.

Frankly, it was insane. Who in their right mind would try to get raped? Look for sex, sure, but actively entice men to rape them? That was crazy. Yet once that worm was in her head, Abigail couldn’t shake it. Day and night, it nagged her, invaded her dreams, her fantasies, until she was literally crying as she masturbated, craving it.

And so here she was, dressed in a cheap red dress, no bra or panties, 5 in pumps, and a tiny purse that held her ID and some cash and nothing else. She couldn’t be doing this, she shouldn’t be doing this, but she was. She couldn’t help herself. She was tired of that empty feeling. The only time she felt alive was reading those stories and accounts. She knew deep down most of them were made up, but a few felt so real. So primal. She got in her car and drove to the opposite side of town. Where no one would know her, where the bars were cheap and shitty, and where maybe, just maybe, she could feel alive.

The night started slow and at the first bar she did get hit on a lot, some friendly stares, a couple hitched breaths as a man groped her, but no one got pushy in that way she wanted or needed. She knew the men she had danced with felt teased and frustrated, but even as she walked to her car, none of them followed her. None of them took the bait.

The next bar was much the same. She got drunker, bolder, and ground and purposefully slurred her words. She walked slowly to the bathroom and later to her car. No one followed and no one grabbed her. Somehow, even the attention she was getting just made her feel worse, broken. She felt rejected because no one had tried to rape her. How fucked up was that, she thought. How dare those men not take advantage of her! She sobered up and thought about what she was wishing for and hated herself. There were too few good people in the world and here she was, angry that none had forced themselves on her. The very thought should have made her happy, but all she felt was emptiness. She decided that no matter what, at the very least, she would not go home alone tonight.

She weaved a bit in traffic before stopping at the last bar on the outskirts of town. It was as dead inside as she was and she almost left then and there. She didn’t though, ordering some drinks. She waved off a few men but then one got her attention, but not by throwing a cheesy one-liner at her. No. He walked behind her and tugged her hair up to look up at him. He was at least a foot taller than her and looked straight down at her chest. He gripped her neck and told the bartender to give them a couple shots, his hand never leaving her.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” he said as he downed the shot, “and got a feeling I won’t again.” He then offered her the other shot and when she hesitated, squeezed her neck and whispered, “Take it.”

She nodded, drinking it, already feeling dizzy from hitting so many bars. He leaned into her and kissed her hard, not letting her pull away. She felt his hand at her crotch and tried to push it away, but he grabbed her hand, all but crushing it in his. Her eyes watered as he pulled back.

“This is going to happen. You can ride along and enjoy it the best you can, or I can leave your body in the fucking dumpster. I really don't care.”

She trembled as she looked into his eyes and knew he wasn’t joking. He might be exaggerating but she had zero doubt that he’d hurt her bad. She felt him shove his hand down there again and she spread her legs. She was soaked, despite her fear, as he slid two fingers in her, in open view of the men in the bar. She gripped his arms as he fingered her, moaning and shaking on the bar stool. Then, when she trembled, about to cum, he stopped. She looked at him, eyes begging him to keep fingering her.

Instead, he stood up, grabbed her arm so tight her eyes watered and dragged her along with him. He took her out the back door to the alley. It stunk of garbage as he started unzipping.

“Li… listen, we can go to your place or… or mine,” she whimpered. She never even saw the punch that dropped her. One second, she was standing and the next, she was face down on the asphalt. Nothing made sense, everything felt wrong, was moving wrong, as she struggled to get on her hands and knees. She tasted blood in her mouth as her head was pushed against the cold wet ground. And then, the pain started.

Abigail wasn’t a virgin by any means but she’d only had anal sex twice, both times with plenty of lube. The man who’d just punched her wasn’t using any. She started to scream and he punched her again and again, on her back and her face. Her eye was swelling bad and she bit her hand as he forced himself in. Her pussy was wet, but he didn’t want that for some reason. Because it hurt. She deserved to be hurt. She bit down harder, her hand bleeding in her mouth as he battered his way in and started fucking her. Rough rocks dug into her body and knees, bloodying them as he raped her ass. Thankfully he didn’t last long as hot cum burned her injured ass. When he pulled out, he jerked her up and shoved it in her mouth before she understood what was happening. She cried, but cleaned him, sobbing as he pulled out. He spat on her and left her in the alley.

She had barely stood, pulling herself up slowly by the dumpster when the next man came out. She whimpered no when fucked her against the brick wall, his fat body smashing her helplessly against it. He started in her pussy but switched to her ass, her blood making the entry far easier. He finished in her as well and left her balled up in the corner.

She stared at the alley light as a third man spread her, tearing at her dress and exposing her to the cool night air. She grunted, even came, as he fucked her cunt, but the only thing she watched was the light. She couldn’t have even described what that man looked like.

She laid there, all but catatonic, for another hour, freezing, naked, and bleeding. When the bartender came out, he helped her into the bar, took her to the women’s room, and helped clean her up. She almost felt human after washing her face, when he pressed into her from behind and trapped her between him and the sink. He gripped her hair tightly, ramming her in short and violent thrusts, pumping her wet cunt until he’d unloaded in her as well. Then he told her to finish cleaning up and he would take her home. She could barely walk to his car as her thighs and body were scratched up so bad, her left eye swollen shut. A tampon stopped the bleeding in her ass. Dried cum stains ran down her leg. He got in the car and shoved her head down as he drove her home. He circled her apartment three times before cumming in her throat and then dropped her off.

She barely made it upstairs before passing out, waking up 14 hours later. She called work and told them she wasn’t going to be in tomorrow, then showered before crashing for another dozen hours. Hours turned into days as she kept calling in, not wanting to be seen damaged and bruised like that. She masturbated to the memory, night after night, for a month. And then the emptiness returned. She wanted to cry so bad, as she put on another cheap dress, but no tears would come. She couldn’t cry anymore. She applied heavy makeup and lubed her ass a bit before heading out. It had taken a week for the bleeding to fully stop last time.

And so, Abigail went out, to fill the emptiness in her. If only for a little while.

If you enjoy her work, everything she writes and does can be found here -

Jogging through the woods - Revised (M/F, stalked, nc, anal, punched, peed on, masturbation)

I ran in the dark through the brush, stumbling, my breathing ragged as the invisible branches tore at my skin. I didn’t know where I was anymore, the light of the park receding as he herded me towards ever greater darkness. I only heard three sounds in my desperation, my clumsy footsteps, my pounding heart, and his steady advance somewhere behind me. Where had he come from, I wondered.

I had been out for my morning run, needing to be done early enough to get to the bus station and head out to work. I preferred my sunrise jogs, but my job had needed me in early and this was my only choice. I hated treadmills and despite the park being closed, no one had ever hassled me here before. Until now.

I had been jogging hard, following the dirt path I knew by heart. My light that had been clipped to my glasses ensured that I wouldn’t trip, and the constant hikers saw that it was worn and smooth, like soft concrete. My pace had been near my best, I had felt, when something had tackled me right off the trail. I had hit the ground hard and my glasses had flown off, the light spiraling in the dark. All I saw was the outline of a large man, getting up. I got up faster and bolted, without thinking. That had turned out to be a mistake. My night vision was basically non-existent from using the light to guide my way, while my predator had been sitting patiently in the dark. Either for me specifically or the first victim to cross his path, I didn't know.

I found myself stumbling and falling constantly, my knees and palms already bleeding from a dozen small cuts. The sound of him kept coming closer and I had no idea where I was, when suddenly, there was no more ground beneath me. I fell into the creek hard and only by the grace of some recent rains did I not kill myself as I slapped against a few inches of icy cold water. It stung my entire body like hundreds of hot needles, both burning and numbing me all at once. I tried to get up, slipping on the algae-covered rocks, my t-shirt and runners shorts clinging to my now freezing skin.

Then he came, splashing behind me as I clawed in the mud on the bank, as I pulled myself out of the creek. Before I could get away, however, my hair was grabbed and I felt pain in my back as he punched me, slamming me forward into the mud. I sobbed, dazed, my back in agony, as his weight pressed into me.

“Thanks for the run, cunt. I enjoy having to work for my pleasure,” he said, as he licked my exposed cheek. The other was forced into the sandy mud and rocks with his hand, holding my head down. I couldn’t see anything more than an outline, couldn’t feel anything other than numbness and fear. I heard, more than felt, my thin runner’s shorts rip open and then my top as well, torn open from the back. I was still struggling under his weight but despite being in good shape, he was vastly stronger than me. He spread my legs with his own and as I cried, put his hands hard on my back, shoving me against the ground hard as he pressed against my ass. Despite the cold and fear tensing me up, he pushed against my sphincter, moving one hand down to help himself. I started screaming again and he cuffed the side of my head hard and thrust. It felt like my guts were being torn out as he pumped violently in and out of me.

“Take it you piece of shit, take it!” he moaned in my ear, as he spasmed against and in me and I felt his heat fill my bowels. I felt him pull out and the hot and cool mixed and burned in my ass. I cried softly, my fingers deep in the mud as the weight on me vanished.  I whimpered, feeling ruined, as he moved away. It didn’t sound far, but I stayed frozen for several minutes before I pushed myself up. My t-shirt fell away, stuck in the mud, though my shorts stayed on, only the back of them being torn open. Mud was caked on the side of my face, and I crawled a few feet before collapsing further from the creek, rolling on my back. My backside hurt so bad and I just felt like shit.



That’s when I heard him come back. I looked and could see the shadow, but my scream was cut off by multiple slaps and then a hard choke as he mounted me again. He shoved my head against the ground hard, one hand around my throat squeezing. The other tore again at my shorts, this time pulling them free. Then he was in me again, choking so hard I couldn’t focus, feeling his other hand punch me in the gut, once then twice, and then hitting my breasts so hard it felt like they would explode. Every hit made my body contract on his cock, likely giving him more pleasure. Or perhaps he just liked hitting women. I sobbed, as he pistoned in and out of my pussy. He grabbed my legs and pulled them against his shoulders so he could drive deeper into me.

And then my body betrayed me. I hate myself and that moment to this day. In many ways, it was the day I was born and the day that I died. Old Sammie, she never left that creek. New Sammie did. New Sammie was a survivor, but she was broken. I was broken. I was broken when I felt that moment creep up, as that feeling crawled along my spine. He probably mistook my screams of “Oh god!” as some proof he was a sexual god but it was me begging the Creator to not let it happen.

But it did. I orgasmed on my rapists’ cock, hard. And he knew it and hit me more as my body twitched outside of my control. Soon he was spent as he emptied his load in me. He stayed in me until he shrunk, then pulled out and stood over me. Then he pissed on my body, marked me like a fire hydrant, and I knew deep down then what trash I was to him.

He left for good this time, but I stayed in the mud and dirt along the bank for much longer. Eventually, I got up, crawling, then standing, as his seed ran out of me. I limped back home and by some miracle, no one saw me. I showered, burning myself in the hot water, a baptism of fire on my skin as I cleaned everything away. Then I masturbated as I punched the wall, fingers pumping in my damaged hole as I made my knuckles bleed in guilt.

One month later, I had an abortion. By then, the guilt barely bothered me. My daily nightmares numbed me to the emptiness I felt. Everything seemed dull and gray outside of that moment or my desperate reading of others’ similar moments. Despite that, despite that trauma, I still run in the dark. The only difference now is that I post where I will be running and when, and wait to be jumped once again.

Message Badsammie