u/SnooTigers3759

(Non-consensual)

A clang reverberates through the roof. The grapple grabs at the edge before clawing into the foundation, securing itself as Batgirl makes her ascent. Thick boots stomp on the gravelly roof, the little rocks ricketing under each step. Barbara is cursing under her breath. “Of course a bank robbery happens tonight.” Her father typically didn’t have much free time on his hands but the city had been rather silent the past week. Trying to take advantage of the lull, he bought a roast and invited his daughter over. They had been together for thanksgiving last year but they were interrupted. The bird ended up a pile of charcoal. She crouched to the ground, hands clamouring upon the window. The suit was a rather thin one. No cape. It was so light and skin tight to where it looked as if painted on. Ass cheeks plump, they shone under the harsh red glow of the emergency light. She cursed again. Hard to pull off stealth. At least these guys should be pushovers.

Barbara sees the handful of goons dash out, hands shovelling cash. The cash was clearly marked. They’ll be sprayed with paint later by the planted devices. She just chuckles to herself, shaking her head. “I won’t need dad at all for this,” she thinks to herself. “I don’t really need to be here. They would probably all trip on banana peels and fall into the sewers. I’m here to make sure they don’t break their necks doing so. The suit was taut, her back essentially naked as she arched it in a feline like manner. Tilting her head side to side, she cracks her swan like neck and stretches her arms forward. The full impression of her bosom visible and bountiful, they were pulled tight to her chest. As her stretch reached its climax, Barbara let out a sultry yawn. She smiled. She had enjoyed herself too much. At least the perps will get a great view before receiving brain damage. She pulled out her batarang and opened the window. Grapple hook tight on the roof edge behind her, she descended.

Barbara descends upon one of the perps. He squeals as her hands pounds into his neck. The perp quickly falls to the floor. But a clang rings out through the bank. Barbara eyes are pointed at the object before it could sound again. It’s a spring loaded gun, razer blade loaded. Her hand presses a button and she ascends but the gun is not pointed at her. The razer slices through the grapple line. Even with it cut, the sheer force of the grapple device sends Barbara up. She’s nearly able to touch the chandelier, hands swinging upon the glass ornaments. But gravity brings her back down. Her arms are flailing as she’s sent careening to the floor. She lands with a resounding thud.

She wheezes as she tries to catch her breath but can’t. A few ribs definitely fractured. Maybe some vertebra too. Her head bounced off the hard tile. Even with her helmet-like cowl, the brain rattle causes a concussion. Her vision goes fuzzy. Her arms and legs lock up like she’s having a seizure but it’s just her coming in and out of consciousness from the blow to the head. The goons slowly surround her, unsure of what to do. Like a dog that finally caught a rabbit. “Quick, make sure she can’t get up!” The boss calls out as he walks from the vault with a half dozen other men.

Barbara had made a sound sharper than she’s heard when she screamed. The steel toed kick had sent her body ragdolling forward a couple feet. She just lies on the frozen floor, whole of her body pressed against it. She lets out loud, droning groans. Her body is completely numb, just sounding out a few violent convulsions. Her mind was opaque. One of the more brave perps places his feet at the sides of her head. He squats down, hand grasping her scalp. He lifts her head up to his crotch. It’s no accident, nice and sweaty as the back of her head is smooshed against it. The rest of the perps are able to see her face, covered in crimson splotches. She splurts out blood in a projectile. Her mind is lost enough where she’s not even wincing. Facial expression is just blank. One eye is twitching. Her pupils are slowly rolling back into her sockets.

She spurts out even more blood. Her body sharply jolted. The guy holding her head felt her body, letting go. Her head slams back down to the marble. She groans again. Limbs sprawled about, her front is pushed to the floor. Her well-endowed breasts are squished, forced to overflow out to the sides. Her shiny ass cheeks are two shiny mounds, jutting up from the floor. They ever so often jiggle as she spasms. Blood from her mouth pools around her head.

The goon grabs at his crotch. Her hair had been luscious and silky, having rubbed against the tent that had formed in his nether regions. He circles around her, watching in awe like everyone else. They had seen glimpses of young protégés from security reels. They took a fancy to one in particular. She had grown so much. This is the perfect time for her to remain ageless. Nearly drooling, he paces over, standing above her skull. He looks up at her dainty, sleeved arms. But one had moved, slipped under her stomach. His ankle makes a morbid crunching sound as the baton pounds into it. He’s sent to the floor, squealing like a pig, hands clutching the appendage. Whole body weighed upon the baton, Barbara rises to her knees.

A group of goons rush her. But they’re untrained and weak compared to her. Even half broken, she easily fights them off. Wobbly, woozy, still concussed. But she feels like she has regained control. She smiles. Takes a few steps toward the boss goon whose ankle she just broke.

He’s rolling about, holding back tears but clearly failing as he holds the angle tight. His eyes are awash, enough where he can barely see Barbara approach. She looks about. The goons in immediate proximity are still reeling. The closest one is struggling and failing to rise from the marble tiling. Barbara flashes a wide grin before descending to one knee. “Looks like you’ll need a helicopter out. I could’ve grappled you to the roof but…” Mangled rope slipped out from the device’s barrel, she drops the gadget on his chest. He wails. She tries to cover her mouth but she’s brimming, the smile extending far out. “Too bad I can’t give him brain damage,” she thinks to herself. “He’ll probably tell my father that I enjoyed this too much.”

From a few yards away, the tall goon pulls his gun. Aims it at her tight body. And pulls the trigger. BANG. A shot clips her shoulder.

The reserved vigilante lets out a sharp, fleeting gasp before slinking away. The cowled, shapely figure disappears around a column. The goon takes steps with incredible trepidation. Did he get her? Or is she more of a pansy than he thought and would squeal at anything? Managing to stand against the pillar, her hand is cupping the gash. She wheezes, face grimacing as the hand comes up and blood seeps out. The black sleeve is quickly covered in crimson streams. She can’t stay here. Barbara is barely a visible shadow as she darts behind the series of tellers’ desks.

“Don’t let her out of this building!” The boss shouts. The goons close in.

The whole of Barbara’s body is pressed to the back compartment. The desk casts a long shadow, blood stained face barely visible. Streaks of moonlight littered the bank floor. She could see shadows march about, broad shouldered figures running an encirclement. Her mind was racing. She can’t let them stay knitted together. One at a time and close. The gunman is brazen but no one would ever work for him again if he shoots a minion. One of the goons pops his head over. She grabs the scruff of his neck before slamming him down. Dust flies up as the tiles are shattered. She’s already behind another desk by the time she hears boots scurrying about. The goons head is nearly buried in the floor as if an ostrich.

One of the poor sods didn’t even have boots. He screamed as Barbara flipped the desk, cumbersome furniture landing squarely on his toes. She sent him careening to the floor as well. The next nearest could barely turn his head before his jaw is broken upon her baton. A minatory of blood and saliva splatters on his buddy’s shirt. A sharp elbow follows, bringing him into a coughing fit. He’s quickly silenced though but Barbara holds up the limp body, kicking away another goon that had the audacity to charge. He’s sent back several feet.

The last few men rush at her. She grapples with them. Sends them to the floor. But the time she spent tangled with them allows the tall goon and the boss goon to attack. They’re on her quickly. Tall goon getting in a blow to the head that sends her reeling, but hurting his hand too. She recovers right in front of boss goon. He smiles at her. BANG. A gunshot to her kneecap connects.

Barbara lets out an abominable wail. The tall goon, nursing his hand, is forced to cover his ears. Her well-endowed bosom is shaking, brutal rasps emanating from her near shattered larynx. She tries to dash forward, cowl covered eyes shooting daggers at the assailant but that knee collapses. The proud figure tries to turn. Her leg is thoroughly anchored. She falls to her hands, fists pounding into the tiles. The boss looks on. The cries are ignored, or even possibly enjoyed as he looks on at her ass cheeks. They’re suspended up, mooning the audience. The hurt guys are not as annoyed.

The tall goon walks over and places a large boot on her wounded knee.

Her fingers furl up as she unleashes another series of screams. Tears leaking from under her cowl, she grabs her baton and swings away. He catches her dainty wrist. “No, no. You’ll be the one hurting now.” He clasps her scalp and tightens it in his fist. She’s pulled up, the whole weight of her body held in one hand. Her legs are dangling. Face wincing, she’s squealing, hands trying to pull away his grip. He just chuckles. The boss clears his throat. “Sorry.” She’s let go, sent careening upon the floor. The knee is shattered even more, bone almost mush. Barbara’s face contorts into an even more brutal grimace.

The boss steps right up to her. “Now, I see there’s a couple of ways this goes. The easy way and the hard way. You let us have this hot bat body, and we’ll let you go home tonight. You make us take it, and well, we’ll take it all…”

Her grimace passes onto an expression of befuddlement. But it quickly passes onto horror. Her mouth is agape, a wretched scowl painted upon it. “NO!” She visible wretches. “YOU’RE DISGUSTING!” She’s shaking her head violently. “It’s good you probably don’t use soap. Wouldn’t want to drop it where you’re going!” The tall man shakes his head but can’t help flash a smile. He looks over to his boss. “Please. Let’s make bats dig a grave.”

“Shut this broad up.” The boss says. Two goons grab her and begin beating her savagely. Punches land against her abdomen, others knock her jaw out of place. The kick her, knocking the wind out of her. “We gave you a chance. Remember that.”

Blow after blow pound away. She blocks her face. They go for her stomach. She clutches her stomach. They punch her face. She raises her arms as if surrendering. They keep hammering away. Her body slowly descends. They pull her hair. They claw her back. She’s fallen to one hand. The arm is wobbling. It feels as if a thousand needles stabbing her body all at once. Her body is quaking. It’s too much. She collapses. Body and limbs slumped down, the goons grab her arms, engaging in a tug-of-war. They manage to flip her over.

“Pin her down” the boss says as he unbuckles his pants. A few of the goons position her prone on the cold tile, face bleeding.

The tall strong goon whips out a switchblade knife. He cuts a hole in the bottom half of her skintight suit. Revealing both of her holes. No room for panties in this skintight suit.

She struggles. One of the goons kicks her in the back of the head and she goes limp momentarily. Enough time for the goons to get a better grip on her.

The boss goon has his thick meaty cock out now. Full erect. He positions himself right behind her pale ass.

Her face is smooshed upon the cold tiles, lips folding as she regains consciousness. Lashes still fluttering, she feels grubby hands on her ass cheeks. They explore about, kneading the plump surface. His hand makes a resounding smack. Her eyes are driven. “No! No!” She’s regained energy, head shaking emphatically. Having fished his cock out, the boss slaps it upon her ass, teasing the hole and taint. She tries to drag herself away but haven gotten annoyed, he easily pulls her back and clasps his hand around her thigh. He thrusts his hips. The cock is unable to thread the needle, pinging off and gliding down her ass cheeks. She’s squealing, fists hitting the floor as she starts a temper tantrum. The tall man tut-tuts her

Three goons pile on her to hold her in place. Allowing the boss to fully line up his shot.

He spreads her juicy pale cheeks, touches her shaved pussy with one hand while he guides his cock in with the other. Whether it’s her sweat or her pussy juices, his cock glides in rather easily once he has a good angle.

His thick cock enters her fully.

“Ohhhhh yeah she’s so tight boys. Must be a good girl to be this tight.”

“GAH!!” Barbara lets out a horrendous cry. The cock stabs her, plunging deep. The first thrust is devastating, making a fleshy crunch, nearly poking her stomach lining. She’s left quivering uncontrollably. But he keeps going. She feels her guts slush about as he jackhammers her insides. She tries to grab at her stomach. But the other men have yanked at her arms. They bring her hands to their crotches, having them cupped. They’re very moist of course. But her head is brought up into one of their laps. The musk causes her to shudder, tent building in his pants jutting out and poking her face. It’s not helped that the boss man is pounding away. Her body is being thrashed, up and down, hair flailing about with reckless abandon. With each brutal apex, she’s sent careening into the other man’s crotch, face smooshing against the imprint of his cock.

“I’m sorry, Dick,” she mutters the name of her sweetheart as she whimpers.

Her ass is lifted higher into the air. More of a doggystyle position now as the boss continues to fuck Batgirl.

Thrusting harder and faster.

She cries. And moans. And screams.

Until one of the goons stuffs his long cock into her open mouth and down her throat. He jams it in so fast and so hard it slides down her throat. But it also dislocates her jaw, making her unable to bite down on his cock in defense.

Her uvula is decimated. The muscles of her esophagus were tight and snug, hugging his cock with incredible love and warmth. He blows through anyway, head of his cock like an icebreaker. The elasticity of her throat is broken, just a sad sag, now as if memory foam. Her throat sounds a loud *Gluck*. His cock has embedded deep. It’s visibly bulging in her throat. You could even make out the individual veins of the cock. He’s holding her hair like handlebars. She stares holes through his eyes. But he just laughs. The man taking her vagina makes an extra deep drive. She’s impaled further upon the two cocks.

One of the goons with a free hand thinks to take out his phone and record the vile act. He steps back, knowing you can’t free yourself at this point, and gets the entire shot in frame. Like a gangbang of Batgirl in a porn spoof or hentai comic, but reality. Batgirl finally broken worse than Joker ever dared. And it’s not over yet…

The boss goon grunts like an animal as he finally blows his thick cum inside her. “Ahhhhh fuuuuck” he moans, his body shaking. He pulls out of her gaping pussy, allowing his warm load to ooze out down her thigh.

The goon fucking her face then pulls out as well. They work as a team to lift her in the air, sandwiching her body. The tall good once again uses his knife to cut open the front of her suit this time…

Her hands are free but the whole of her body feels as if lit ablaze. She grips at her throat, stretched out significantly before reaching for her stomach. The boss had excavated deep. It felt as if her insides had been pushed into her lungs. It left much more room for a sea of cum, churning about in her stomach cavity. She’s barely able to notice when the tall goon takes a knife to her chest. Her supple breasts are freed, popping out. She gasps only to sputter on pubes. She leans against the assailant before her, breasts pushed upon his chest as she tries to hide them. Her eyes are winced shut. “Let this be over” she pleads. She wraps her arms around the man before her, looking for any comfort. His cock stabs her all the same.

Two goons work her body at the same time while the others film it and jerk off.

One ready to spill in her sloppy pussy, a second load inside. The other now spreading her virgin asshole. Many men over the years, even in the batfamily, tried to get her asshole but failed. Today, it was taken.

“It’ll be over soon baby doll, you’re doing great. And don’t worry we won’t tell nobody…” says the boss goon.

While the DP continues, another goon finds something in Batgirl’s utility built… an ID!

“Oh my. The baby Bat is Gordon’s daughter? Well what do we do now.”

“I think your daddy wouldn’t stop looking for the men who did this to you. He’d hunt them harder than he hunted Joker…”

Barbara is letting out a low, gruelling drone. She can barely turn her head, limbs splayed about on the floor, bent awkwardly every which way. Her breathing are mere rasps, bushels of pubes jutting out from the corners of her mouth. Even on her back, such round, perky breasts were plump, a milky white complexion. “Yup. And they caught the joker real good!” They snickered.

Fingers twitching against her palm, Barbara tried to regain movement. The cocks had gauged out her insides. It felt as if she was suffering internal bleeding. But she knew the stuff pooling around her thighs was a different substance. White and sticky, globs of cum flopped from her vaginal lips.

“Daddy’s little girl. What to do with you?”

The boss looks about the floor. It’s hard to look away from the beauty. One of the lesser goons was kneeling by her head, pawing her silky smooth breasts. By some fate, he manages to look away. His eyes stumble upon the grappling hook. He snaps at the goon enjoying himself and points to gadget. The goon gropes her breasts a final time before grabbing it and handing the device to the boss. The boss inspects it before extending the rope out and pulling it taut. He marches over to Barbara, saddling her chest. He’s already hard again, bulge pressed to her delicate breasts as he loops the rope around her neck. He tightens the noose.

“Say goodnight, sweetheart.”

He kisses her bloody sweaty forehead and then aims the grappling hook gun at the roof. She’s too dazed to realize what’s happening. Concussed and full of cum, internal bleeding, brain damage. The boss squeezes the trigger. BANG. The grappling hook fires. The hook flies through the sky and connects with the lowest part of the roof. He presses a button to pull on the rope. And it yanks her off her feet immediately. He has to press the button again quickly to stop it before it rips her head off. There she hangs. Batgirl. Barbara Gordon. Pale body under her skintight suit flailing. Causing her pale tits to bounce and jiggle. She kicks. Grotesque noises barely escape her wet throat. BANG! From behind them, the tall goon fires his gun into her other kneecap, giving her a matching pair of wounds.

The horrid sound of a banshee-like scream ruminates through the bank. Blood trickles onto those down below. They’re licking their lips. Her breasts are jiggling as she tries to convulse. What air she had in her lungs spills out. She just wheezing, lungs feeling as if lined with sandpaper. Her mind has already turned foggy. Booted legs kick violently. The crowd down below is hooting and hollering. “How humiliating? Just to exist some strung up doll with a dumb look on it’s face? My body would be dangling, breasts and ass cheeks nude for boys to jerk off to.” She winces. The rope was stabbing into her throat. Her hands were flailing just trying to reach the rope. Her body twisted and swayed about. But her fingers slip through. “Dick got stuck in a gymnastics stunt before.” She remembered what he did. 

The new gun wound shot her with adrenaline. “Come on! Dad can’t see me end up like this!” Her arms flex, toes pointing straight to the floor. Barbara grimaced. One of them has already spilt his load. Her knees were ablaze. It felt as if a thousand bees were stinging her throat. “Maybe this is just too much.” The thought is fleeting. “No! I’ll be eating dinner with my father, even if I’m in a wheelchair!” Barbara snarled, teeth gnashing. Her hands are trembling. Nails dug into her palms, they’re awash in blood. Her breasts are drenched in sweat, cascading down her chest. Veins are bulging out of her forehead. 

*Pop* Her head comes free. She nearly falls back into the arms of the goons down below, heel-booted legs dangling, hands clenched upon the rope. The crowd gasps. Gun in hand, the tall goon pulls the trigger. *Click* The hammer is jammed. His palm is slamming upon it. The boss is seething. “I’ll kiss you for this, Dick!” The thought brings immense joy. Though her legs are limp, she’s still able to swing her body upon the rope, back and forth and back and forth. The swinging gets wider and wider. If not for the searing pain, she would be smiling. Closer and closer she gets to the window she entered in through. “Come on!” The boss shoves one of the other goons aside. The apex of her swing was but a few feet away, she’ll be able to throw herself on the next one. The rope is cocked back. 

The boss wrestles the gun away. He jiggles the hammer about. Barbara is sent barreling forward. Before the full apex, she lets go. Barbara is giddy. She’s seen Dick do this enough to know that she’s more than high enough. She’s gliding through the air. The boss points the gun up and aims. *Bang* A cloud of blood erupts from her chest. Her mouth contorts into the starkest of frowns. Eyes shoot bright and wide. Her lips quiver. But the muscles quickly release. Pupils vibrant, they stare into nothingness. Her careening body faceplants into a ledge. With forward momentum and limbs out like a starfish, Barbara’s body somersaults to the ground. She lands with a fleshy crunch.

Her neck is now formless, flaccid as it’s pulled into a semi-circle, Barbara’s head touching her shoulder. Her mouth popped open, an expression of pure horror. The worst pain she ever felt was also the last. The tall goon tried to close his eyes but the face was burnt into his skull. Though he wouldn’t have wanted to look away for too long. Her soft, white breasts defied gravity. Unlucky she didn’t land on the plump things though her ass probably helped cushion her instead. Her limbs were grasping out, phantom spasms incessant. The Boss’s shot had hit her squarely between the breasts. Blood was pumping up above her breasts, streaming down her clavicles. Eyes dropping down to see her tight pussy, he sees a bat-shaped electronic device.

The boss goon flips on Barbara’s phone. Luckily for him, there had been no encryption. First foreign pair of hands to touch it. Fingers too big for the buttons but he managed to work it. “Hi! You were listed as Barbara’s father. I’m her murderer. I’ve heard her scream at a pitch you’ve never heard. I’ve felt her in places you’ve never felt. She gave my goons quite a licking. They’ll be looking to relieve themselves of the traumas she gave them. You better get here quick.”

He was not quick enough. 

(I posted this before but got deleted. Was wondering if it was for political content. Tried to remove political content)

“I gave her the minimum sedative and she’s still out.” The two men stand over the truck bed. “Are you sure we won’t get in trouble? The truck is supposed to fit a dozen.” The other scoffs. “Are we looking at the same girl?! My livelihood is not important enough.” As bumpy as the ride had been, the little Latina looked untouched. Not so much as a single blemish on her dress. The frills just fluttered peacefully in the breeze.

The other man realizes his error - having just been gawking while the intelligent one slings her tiny body over his shoulder. He heads off for the detention centre, large hand slipping under her skirt, patting her nubile ass cheek. “We got a good one alright,” hooting and hollering as her arms and long hair drape down. They swing mindlessly from side to side. The boys break the door opening it for him.

It’s a long precession, man after man taking turns “inspecting”. The normal ones slap her ass cheeks, grinning as they’re left reverberating. Others fondle her perky tits. Another group squeeze her rosy cheeks, cute lips squished together. The smartest do all three. The carrier gets impatient. Grabbing her by the hair, he lugs her limp body across the grubby floor before hurling her into a cell. The small woman’s exhausted limbs sprawl out, falling over the sides of the stained mattress. Wrapping his arm around the bars, he locks the cell door and pockets the key. He’ll be trapped for the weekend, god willing.

His coworkers fervently rattle at the bars. The girl’s eyelashes gradually flutter open. She lets out a cutesy yawn before groggily rubbing her eyes. The milky complexion of her cleavage glows in the harsh light. “Wakey, wakey.” The sergeant towers above, shirt having already been thrown to the corner. His crazed eyes are affixed to her saintly face. “We’re going to have the most fun of your short life.” He starts snickering. Most of the other officers had departed. A chorus of slammed shelves and stubbed toes follow in their wake. A few remain. The drool drenches the floor.

“We really need wet floor sign.” He turns to the lieutenant but the lieutenant’s head is in his hands, mouthing expletives under his breath. “Fuck! She’s going to be cold by the time we get her!” “What?” The officer turns to see his boss slamming his fist, not tearful. “You ever wondered why the beautiful woman are gone within a day? I’ve seen these girls’ exes frequent the garbage bins.”

The sergeant drops to all fours and begins circling the girl. She fidgets her crucifix, wide, doe eyes gazing at him. Her white heels shuffle her away, corralling her into a corner. “Aw shucks. That’s too bad. I always wanted to fuck a live one.” The supervisor smacks his shoulder. “Come on! There has to be a key somewhere.” The two shuttle away.

With knuckles to the floor, the perp inches closer and closer. The girl is trembling. Sweat beads down her chest, cleavage left glistening. Her lips quiver. She tries to speak. It’s just a stuttering mess. “Please!” The girl eeking out a word. “I’ll never come back to the country!” His face brims even wider. “That wouldn’t be very fun!” He grasps her ankle. The screams radiate through the halls. A growing crowd meets it with applause.

“Management always has spare keys. They’re not ones to miss out on the action.” The supervisor waves his understudy into the room.

Brought to the centre of the cell, lieutenant hoists the girl up. She’s dropped on her knees, landing with a thud. Her little whimpers and pained expressions bring laughter. The faces of the spectators are shadowed. “Are they ICE? Are they neighbours?” The questions race through her mind. She brings her bright eyes up. They’re watery, holding back tears. Lips curled, she wordlessly begs for mercy. The lieutenant grabs the neckline of her dress and tears. It’s bisected down to her naval. Having been freed, her supple breasts pop out. The crowd is an aghast, watching as they jiggle hypnotically before going still. What remained of the dress fell by the wayside. Overcoming her shock, she covered her bosom but by then, it was far too late. Even with a turned away head, the jeers and finger pointing were unavoidable.

“So grownup you are. I’m sure your classmates would be jealous of what I’m about to do.” He lifts her by the throat. The girl’s body tussles for a bit as the man slowly sits. Settling in his spot, he lets her struggle a few seconds more before plopping her down on his pelvis. She lets out a full-throated gasp, breasts thrusted out as she desperately heaves. Delicate hands clutch at her bruised trachea. The man just sits, watching her chest palpate, feeble body trembling atop his. “If you’re like that after a couple seconds of choking, you can kiss yourself goodbye!” A sharp sob escapes her throat. The man readies himself, strong hands wiggling her hips. The fabric of her hello-kitty underwear did nothing. She could easily feel his bulge on her pelvis as he roughhouses her body about. The panties are slipped aside. He angles his cock before letting the girl’s body plunge. It impales her deep. She cocks her head back. Luscious hair cascades down, brushing the bottom of her backside. A guttural scream bursts from her chest.

The chorus of cheers forces the supervisor against a desk. His pounding fist sends a flurry of papers fluttering. They join the other papers scattered across the room, more victims of their frantic scouring. All manner of drawers and tables are drawn out. Mailbox doors swung off their hinges. Even the posters had been stabbed, left like Swiss cheese, no secret compartments possibly behind them. “Hey!” The supervisor shouts through his panting. “Check the truck!”

They turn the hall and dash ahead. The supervisor doesn’t so much as flash a glance, forging onward as the understudy drops out of view. The appalling wails are as if a chime, attracting the whole of the station. “Those sick days are useless if there could be days like this one,” one chuckles. Passing the cell, the understudy can’t help but sneak a peak. Holding by the sides of her chest, the lieutenant thumbs the girl’s round, silky underboob. His cock is lodged inside of her, feeling the girl’s body tremble around it. She’s clutching at her chest, desperately wheezing. “I hope your heart acts up. My cock would erupt if you had a seizure on it.” The guys erupt instead, uproarious cheers as the girl shuddered.

The lieutenant can’t help but turn and give a hearty laugh. In the corner of his eye, he catches the understudy. “You missed out on a lot of fun! At least there’s still the whole weekend!” The girl grimaces, leaking a low whimper. “I’ll end your search for you.” Pants close by, he fishes through the pocket. He pulls the keys out and jingles them. “I had picked out who I wanted before we set out. Couldn’t let anyone barge into our fun time.” He tosses the keys to a far corner. The girl breaks into a sobbing fit, slouching forward. Her plump breasts fall against his hands, feeling them throb as she quivers. “There, there.” His face widens with a maniacal grin. “I’ll do you a mercy. You’ll always be beautiful, my darling.” His coarse hands caress her dainty neck. By the time it dawned on her, his grip had turned iron. She lets out a sharp wheeze but that’s the last of the air passing through. He puts her neck in a vice. The foundations of the building are shaken as the crowd booms with adulation.

The supervisor fills the doorway. Probably more fun to watch her expire. But the understudy was determined. At the top of his lungs, he shouted: “Winch!” The supervisor gets giddy before running back out. He’s followed, the understudy sprinting as fast as his feet could carry him. The hook is grasped tight enough to hurt his hand. “Two tugs and you drive.” From the driver’s window, the supervisor sticks up his thumb. It’s a few seconds before the understudy relays back to the cell.

The sergeant is throttling her body. Sharp squeals emanate from her throat as he stabs with impunity. He watches with a wide smile as her face goes flush, fingers enclosing further upon her trachea. There is no reprieve. When he gets tired, his cock remains deep, excavating her insides. The audience watches in delight as her chest violently spasms, piercing cries of sheer agony. Enough viewers are enraptured to ignore the understudy. Those who notice him are more than happy to assist. They can’t let the guy in the cell have all of the fun. The understudy ties the rope around a few of the bars. The girl’s face radiates. She’s almost crying tears of joy even if a vicious gangbang was in store. The man just redoubles his efforts, gritting his teeth, clasping even more brutally. He spears her, bellowing with laughter as she chokes up her lungs.

Rope secure, the understudy gives the tugs. The line is stationary, several feet still coiled up. He stands there, antsy as his head darts back and forth, forced to watch her pained expression. But as he turns away, the coiled rope starts slithering. It pulls against the floor, meter and meter receding down the hall. As the last coil is undone, the rope suspends in air. It goes taut. A loud warble resonates through the chamber.

In the cell, the man bounces the small girl, cock hurtling through her puny body. She can barely remain upright, a sharp pain coursing through her legs. He’s in full control, lifting her up before sending her careening back down, shapely breasts plopping. She lands with fleshy crashes, cock plunged deep to where his balls slap against her taint. The walls of her lungs feel as if sandpaper, the sounds of her voice mere rasps.

The rope yanks at the bars. They’re bent barely an inch, firm as parallel obelisks. Tires spin off in the distance, a furry of rocks kicked up and sprayed about. A storm of sand disappears into the night. The girl clutches at the man’s hands, nails digging into his flesh. They slowly become seeped in his warm, viscous blood. It does not matter. His ichor leaks onto her white, swan like neck, decorating it with crimson red splotches. The girl’s vision fuzzes around the edges.

The rope jolts, an audible jerk as the truck floors it. The eyes of the understudy fix to the wall. Just above the bars, a fissure has developed. As the truck pushes, inch by inch, the cracks grow, splattering out into the foundation. The man keeps hammering away, her feeble body slung about like a ragdoll. His cock is building and building. Her youthful vaginal walls are stretched to the breaking point. The girl’s lips are quivering, teeth sinking into them. Her eyes are watery. Sweat trickles down her backside, collecting in the arch.

The bars start to malleableize. Hardened iron creaks as it bends and bends. The angle of the bars gets sharper with each passing second. Paint is being stripped off. Sediment spills from the cracks in the ceiling. The man’s cock is throbbing inside the girl. His eyes go bloodshot, strong hands mangling her neck as he thrashes it. The girl’s eyes are winced shut, teeth clenched. Her legs are trembling. Chest spasming, her heart is pulsating. She pounds on his hands. It’s but a mere tantrum, feeble slaps as his arms remain unbudging. A pronounced silence falls upon the room as the crowd watches with unabated attention. Just the petty squeals of the girl at the center of the room.

The wall erupts with a cascading boom. The bars pop off, sent careening down the hallway. The understudy dashes by, adjusting his body as to shimmy through the gap. A hand abruptly pulls him back. Two of the spectators turn to him. One hoists the understudy up by the waist, the other blocks the new opening. He flails his arms about, kicking and screaming. “Hey, chill! She’s just some broad!” The man holding him is chuckling. “Just enjoy the show!” Suspended in air, the struggle of the understudy slowly eases. Limps relaxed, he joins in the viewing.

The girl is bawling her heart out, tears pouring in a cascade. Her soft cheeks are littered in long stains. The black tears drip on her breasts, slipping down to her abdomen. She darts her eyes down at her captor. They become locked. Her lips quiver, lashes fluttering. She stares, bright and doe-eyed, wordlessly begging for mercy. Such an angelic face. Even in the harsh light, it glowed.

His stare is cold, hold unyielding. Bulging in her pelvis, his cock is quaking. He lays there, patient, anxious for her to become an empty husk. His unfeeling expression is haunting. Her heart skips. She lets out a soft whimper. The girl’s legs start wobbling. She grips the man’s arms but its weakly. It feels as if a thousand bees were stinging her throat. Her eyes are winced shut. Her chest starts convulsing. She grits her teeth but in such horrid agony, they start gnashing. Her mind is entrapped in a thick fog. Instincts becoming feral, her hand tugs at his. It just makes him laugh. She gradually eases. Her clenched teeth lighten. Her hand numbs against his, merely resting atop it. Her expression relaxes, as if asleep. Slowly, her head cocks back. Her pupils recede into their sockets. With one final throe, her mouth loosens. Their bodies freeze, statuesque. The crowd watches, affixed with wonder.

It’s when a sharp exhalation stabs the air. The girl’s mouth goes agape, soul dissipating into the void. Neck crooked, it turns flaccid in his hands. Her head slumps back. Bright, vibrant eyes are popped open, pointed vacantly to the ceiling. An empty mind behind them. Her dainty arms collapse to the floor. The man is sent over the edge. His twitching cock splurges. Her expired corpse recoils as cum rushes into her system. It courses through every passage, seeps into every crevice. She’s filled to the brim, his warm seed sludging about in her womb. He leaves her suspended, making sure she receives every last drop. Her body lets out the occasional phantasmal shudder, helping milk his cock.

Ragdolling her body about, he fills her of the last few ounces before exhaling. With his grip relinquished, she tumbles to the floor. She lands facing up, limps sprawling, twisted awkwardly. Her head teeters a bit before going still. An expression of pure shock was scarred onto her face, naive to how painful her passing would be. And an existential horror for what was to follow. The audience swarms. Her body quickly disappears under the doggie pile. The supervisor stands next to his disciple, visibly annoyed. “She might still be warm when they’re done.” He can’t bring himself to lie fully. “Well more like lukewarm.” He thinks more about it. Her limps will be broken, skull cracked, jaw shattered. The girl’s shapely body would be covered in bruises, pubes, and cum. The supervisor starts cussing. Unfortunately for what shame she had left, there won’t be a deportation. She’ll be here for a very long time indeed.