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An Impossible Sentence

Chapter 1

For Mizzukat

By Draconicon

The boat roared away from the harbor, and its occupants were quiet. The Doberman guards looked down at the shackled stallion dressed in prison-suit orange, both armed with assault rifles and both twitchy.

"This thing's completely sealed, right?" one of them muttered.

"Yeah. No light's getting in."

"And he can't use his powers without that shit, right?"

"That's what all the reports say."

"I can't," the stallion muttered.

The guns almost came up. Almost. The more experienced of the two guards stopped himself, reaching out to grab the other rising muzzle before it could get more than halfway up.

"Calm down. He can talk."

"Fucking...what if he's got other powers? You saw what happened."

"Yeah, kid. Everyone saw what happened. But if he was going to blow us up, he'd have done it already. Right, Horus?"

The stallion said nothing. He looked down at his hands, then through his fingers at the floor. Slowly, the six-foot-five horse slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.

He doubted that either of the dogs believed his grief, but he felt it nonetheless. The explosion that had robbed over a hundred-thousand citizens of the city of their lives hadn't been his fault, not directly, but he still felt the weight of their deaths upon his shoulders.

"So many people..."

"Hey, hey. Kid. Keep it together. You're going to be watching over murderers coming from the city. Murderers, rapists, who knows what. If you're going to start cracking with someone that's not giving you trouble, you're going to be in deep shit come the serious cases."

"This isn't serious?!"

"Ain't serious if they're not trying to get away. And you're not going to try. Are you, Horus?"

The brown-furred stallion shook his head, his face still in his hands. He could try, he knew. He would probably fail, but he could have tried. Right from the moment when they had to open the door to his prison truck for a few seconds, when the light came through and he had a hint of his powers back, he could have tried. It would have been the work of a few seconds to get his arms free and shatter the rest of his restraints.

But they all believed that he was guilty already. He couldn't help them, not when they were convinced that he'd caused that explosion.

I didn't cause it...but I didn't stop it...

The covered boat skidded over a wave, bouncing them all half a foot in the air before they came back down. Again, the new guy's gun came up, and again, the experienced guard swatted it back down.

"Calm the fuck down, kid. Seriously. You shoot one of these guys before they reach the prison, it's on us. You want to go down for a murder charge?"

"Nobody would convict me..."

"You keep telling yourself that, kid." The older guard shook his head. "Only reason that he's got a prison sentence instead of the death penalty is because of everything that he did for us. Can't tell you what went through his head to fuck us over at the end of things, but Christ, something must have..."

Too many times he'd been convinced to let a politician stay in office to keep things 'stable.' Too many times he'd been warned away from following a trail because it'd make things inconvenient. Horus thought that he'd been helping everyone. He'd thought...

Well, in hindsight, he hadn't thought much at all. He didn't look into all the things that went wrong. He took too many politicians and cops at their words. And now...now, it had come to a massive cost for that long, extended stupidity.

He should have done something. Said something. If he'd stopped believing the politicians and every little lie that they passed about fixing it eventually, or putting up safeguards, or there being other things that mattered more, maybe those people would still be alive.

Maybe he'd feel like he could still be a hero.

The boat slowed, and he knew that they must be close to Maxson Super Max. The horse slowly brought his hands down from his face, shaking his head as he felt the deceleration hit a little bit harder, the guards holding onto handgrips dangling from the ceiling as the boat came closer and closer. The younger, more inexperienced Doberman kept his eyes glued on Horus, while the other pulled his radio from his chest to his lips.

"ETA to docking?"

"Forty-five seconds."

"Heard."

The dog let the radio fall again, holding his gun once more. Horus knew that, if he really wanted to, he could probably take a few shots from the rifles. They would hurt - hurt a ton, for that matter, considering that he wasn't empowered by the sun as he normally was - but some of that power still remained. It would last him long enough to blitz them, get their weapons...

But then what?

Nothing, that's what. The public didn't trust him. Breaking out of prison without something to reflect his innocence was just one more way to prove that he was nothing but the villain that they believed him to be.

So, Horus the hero, Horace Capall the citizen, Horus the horse, just sat there and waited as the ship docked with the prison. There was a slow turn towards the end of their deceleration, the back of the boat butting up against the prison walls, sliding into place for a sunless transfer from one cell to another.

He could see it in his mind's eye. Having accompanied so many other prisoners to the Maxson Super Max, he knew what it looked like. The great prison was a pyramid a mile out from the shore, long enough that even good swimmers would have a hard time making it from the prison to the city again. The top of the prison was manned by the Farseers, a unit of super-snipers meant to take down anything that got loose from the prison, and the waters were patrolled by boats and other supers that were meant to bring everything back to the Super Max if they got loose.

And that was just the security for base-level threats. Someone like him would get the big stuff unleashed almost immediately.

"On your feet," the older Doberman said.

Horus stood up, taking his time to fully get to his feet. The chains around his ankles and wrists clattered as he moved, and he groaned as he rolled his head around his shoulders as he reached his full height. Six-foot-five, tall enough to put the Dobermans to shame, and with the muscles running down his arms that had been shown in high definition in his old costume, he knew that he was an imposing sight. Brown-furred and long-maned, he was the definition of a stallion, something with virility and potency to spare.

"Come on. Opening the door...now," the older Doberman said.

The back of the boat opened, alright, and a sharp, bright light cut through the darkness. Horus managed to avoid flinching, but only by the barest of margins.

"Forward, prisoner."

No gun against his back - neither of them had quite the guts for that - but he knew that they were pointed right at him. Horus took a deep breath and walked forward, reaching the back of the boat as it opened completely.

A simple transfer room awaited him. The air hummed with a different energy, one that made him feel like a strange itch had settled between his shoulder blades and dug in deeper with each passing second. He rolled his head from one side to the other, gritting his teeth for a moment before snorting through his nostrils.

Looks like the depowering grid is still working well...

Everyone knew that the depowering grid was what allowed the Maxson Super Max to function as a prison for supers and other criminals. When the original Maxson had invented it thirty years ago, he'd gained a permanent contract with the city to take care of anything that was judged guilty of super-crimes.

Horus didn't have the same sort of fear of it that other criminals did, but he supposed that was partially because he didn't have the same innate powers. He needed the sun to do anything, and without that, he might as well be in the grid at all times. Here, he would be just as helpless if the grid was turned off.

The door on the other side of the rectangular room opened, and two fennec foxes with tranquilizer weapons stepped inside. They were shorter than him by nearly two feet each, barely coming to his pecs, and were dressed in pure black. Familiar helmets - also designed by the Maxon family to avoid ocular control from some of the more talented mentalists in the facility - covered their eyes and made them look almost robotic from the outside.

"Prisoner Horace Capall, AKA Horus. You have been judged guilty of mass murder and mayhem. Your sentence is 400 years, or until the end of your natural life, whichever comes first," one of the fennecs said. "Do you understand?"

"I do."

"You will be searched and brought to Warden Maxson III. Do not resist."

The boat had already closed behind him, the Dobermans leaving him behind. They weren't going to be involved in this; nobody that wasn't an employee of the Super Max was allowed to be part of the various procedures that happened inside.

He kept his hands at his sides as they cut his clothes off him, leaving him naked in short order. His sheath was pushed forward slightly - one of the other guards had found it 'funny' to lock a cuff around the base of it and his balls - and the foxes showed no sign of being willing to take it off. The head of his cock stuck out from the sheath, just barely, and he hissed as one of them flicked it.

"Heh, that'll be popular with some of the inmates, don't you think?" the first fennec asked.

"Heh, I bet they'll be more interested in the other end."

"Oh, I think they're interested in what's behind the balls. Didn't you read the paperwork?"

"Wait, he's a -"

"Heh, show us, horse."

Horus gritted his teeth, but went along with the 'request.' He reached down and pulled his balls up as much as he could with the limited range of motion that the handcuffs permitted, and he forced himself to stare over their long ears toward the other side of the wall as they started prodding between his legs.

"Told ya. He's got a mare-cunt down here," the first fennec said. "Breedable as hell, if you can get him pinned."

"Holy shit..."

"Yeah. Pity that the Warden wants to see him, or I'd try my luck right here. Ain't like that hole needs much searching, though; looks like it's barely getting back from gaping already. What's the matter, horse? Get fisted back at the station?"

He nodded.

"That's what I thought. Well, we still gotta check the other side. The ol' ass wallet."

It was as humiliating now as it had been back then, but he knew better than to complain. He kept his eyes straight ahead, his mouth closed, and just...endured.

If you had done better in the past, this wouldn't be a problem. If you'd been a real hero rather than a posing figurehead, you wouldn't have let that many people die.

The guilt was a powerful thing, and it made him stay very, very still as he was prodded, then probed. Horus gritted his teeth as a rubber-coated finger slid up his pucker, probing at his inner walls, poking at his prostate, nudging here, there, everywhere. His cheeks burned as he tried not to think too hard about how this was already starting to affect him, nor how his shaft was starting to twitch in his sheath.

One finger became two, then three, forcing his asshole to stretch. It burned from the slow grinding, forcing it further, deeper in. His hooves tapped quietly on the metal underfoot as he shifted from one to the other again and again.

"Hold still, horse, or we'll have to take...forceful measures."

"Mmmph..."

"Besides, I'm almost done..."

Four fingers. He was damn-near being fisted by the small fennec. There was nothing up there, but he just didn't want to stop. Further, deeper, the fingers fanning out. They scraped along the sides of his prostate and then further in, almost like they were trying to force him hard. The handcuff pulled tight around his sheath was not making that any easier, and -

Squelch.

The sudden emergence of cock from sheath was almost like a relief in its own way, if completely humiliating in the way that it arrived. He huffed as it slowly pushed out, dangling out of his sheath and falling further, further, further with each thrust of those fingers. He hunched forward, his hands at his sides clenching into fists. Pulse, throb, pulse, throb, each little touch making him harder and harder, and -

Then it stopped.

"All clean back here," the fennec fox said, dragging his hand out with a soft pop. "Heh, looks like the hero's playing fair."

"Damn. Couldn't you have broken the rules? You look like you'd have a damn fine ass to take to solitary," the other fennec said, chuckling as he groped himself. "Damn..."

"Well, don't worry. I'm sure that he'll break the rules soon enough. Heroes always think that they're going to get special treatment here at Maxson's," the first fennec said, spanking Horus hard enough to make him hiss. "And they never do. But go ahead, find out. I'm sure that the Warden will be understanding when it's you, big guy. After all, you were the Guardian of the city."

"..."

"Heh, not going to fight for it?"

"..."

"You're no fun. Come on. Let's get him to the boss."

#

Maxson's base level was as secure as he had always heard it was. Each corridor had a Security Prism every hundred feet. They served almost like the sliding gates in a more standard prison, except that they required more than a key. To get through, one needed to shine a light on them that corresponded to the current shade that it was putting off. If you had the right light, then you could walk right through, shimmering through the crystal that was harder than the walls itself.

If you didn't...well, you could still try and walk through, but most of your body wouldn't make it to the other side.

The guards pushed him along, shining the lights as they went. It was randomized, forcing the guards to use different keys to get through every time. Horus imagined that some of the prisoners had tried to escape, thinking one key was enough, only to end up as a bloody pile somewhere down the hall when the keys shifted and they used the wrong one. The mental image was...not pleasant.

Aside from the Security Prisms, there were other security measures in the featureless white hallway. The endless feeling of white burned at his eyes, making it hard for him to see, and he could only imagine what some of the more sensitive species would feel going down this long corridor. Cameras - buttonhole things that nonetheless served as the only break-ups to the endless white and the shimmers of the Security Prisms - more or less forced anyone walking along the corridor to look at them. Perfect way to get face-shots for anyone passing through.

By the time that they reached the fourth Security Prism, he had a hell of a headache.

Passing through it was like being broken down, shimmering into something barely more than thought, and then being dragged back out again. The coming together, the assembling, the raw exposure of everything as it was reassembled more sensitive than ever before, was enough to set his teeth on edge, and he was grunting and growling on the other side. Even the fennecs were not at their best, shaking their heads and grumbling as they adjusted their helmets.

"Warden's office...here," the one that had fingered him said. "Through...that door. Go on."

He was just glad to have the chance to get away from them. Horus stepped forward, opened the door -

"Ah, there you are, Mr. Capall."

The stallion stood in the doorway, as naked as the day he was born, and tried not to feel even more under-dressed and exposed compared to the well-dressed crocodile that ran the prison. Warden Garth Maxson III stood by a hologram of a globe, running his finger over it, and the pure-white suit that he wore radiated a sense of light around the room.

All down to nanites and show-pieces, the horse was aware, but that didn't make it any less impressive to see in person. He gritted his teeth as he stepped inside, holding onto what little dignity he still had. His cock still hung out from his sheath, half-hard with the handcuff around the base of his sheath keeping it that way. So far, he had managed to keep from dripping from the other hole, which was something of a miracle.

"You wanted to meet with me, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, indeed. Just like any other prisoner, really. A formality in the grand scheme of things," the warden said, shaking his head as he turned from the globe. "If I remember correctly, you've only escorted other prisoners here in the past."

"That's correct, sir."

"Then let me just give you a little bit of a welcome spiel."

The crocodile, slightly rotund and clearly someone that had been spending more time officiating rather than working, gestured to one of three lush seats that were gathered around the holo-globe. After a moment's hesitation, Horus took the one closest to the door.

"Here at the Super Max, things are run as tightly as possible. There will be regular inspections of you and the other villains here, but by and large, we take a hands-off approach to the whole thing. My grandfather may have invented the depowering grid, but my father was the one that came up with the best philosophy for you criminals. Do you know what it is?"

"...No, sir."

"If a criminal wishes to operate as if there were no laws, let them. Create a space where that is all that they can do. Create a space where no innocent victim is to be found, and then leave them there. Allow them to do what they want to each other, to others of equal crimes, and when it is all done, let heaven sort it out."

The stallion nodded slowly.

"Of course, I am a little less faithful than my old man was," the warden said, chuckling as he took a seat. "I believe that there is a chance that someone might actually suffer more than they need to, so we do make sure that no more deaths happen. Particularly for those that aren't under a life sentence. Everyone is fitted with a monitor of sorts, allowing for a paralytic to be distributed at any point. It also allows us to monitor life signs, locations, and everything else that really matters for security.

"That said, you are responsible for your own wellbeing. The guards are instructed not to intervene unless you're at risk of dismemberment or death. Assault, rape, beatdowns: these are all things that happen here, and quite honestly, not a single member of the public cares. They feel that it is only right that someone that harmed 'innocent' people in the outside world is put through the wringer this way."

"Do you?"

"I am paid either way, Mr. Capall," Garth said, shrugging. "I merely ensure that the system goes on, and the cash keeps flowing."

"Of course you do."

"Mmm, do I hear a hint of judgment in your voice?"

"..."

"Good. Now, you're here for...a very long time, Mr. Capall, and I imagine that there will be cases where you and I talk again. You'll have a state-mandated therapist, as well, and we'll see if we can get to the bottom of the madness that caused that whole explosion...but in the meantime..."

The crocodile stood up, chuckling with that long, sneering smile of his. As he walked around the horse's chair, the stallion did his best not to show his discomfort on his face, keeping his hands in his lap, his eyes straight ahead. The crocodile's hands rested on his shoulders as the warden stood behind him.

"In the meantime, try and keep yourself in one piece. I imagine that the guards will be just a little slow to save you in some cases, and I can't force them to be any faster. They did, after all, lose quite a few people in the city...and some of my employees may have lost family in that explosion. If they decide to take it out on you...well, who am I to stop them?"

"...You are a cruel man."

"It takes one to run a place like this, I'm afraid. Now, why don't you stand up and bend over?"

"Already?"

"The monitor goes up there, after all."

"You're joking."

"Mmm, the one thing I don't do, my good stallion, is joke. Now, stand up, bend over, and let me put this monitor where it belongs..."

#

The feeling of walking around with what amounted to a fist-sized butt-plug rammed up his ass didn't do anything to help Horus's erection. As the fennecs took him through two more Security Prisms to Gen Pop, he couldn't ignore the constant pressure of that plug against his prostate, nor the way that he was forced to almost waddle along with the sheer weight that it put on his pucker. He'd...tried out different plugs before, for a few different lovers, but the feeling of something like this was beyond intense, considering that it was made more of metal than anything else, and it was humming and buzzing with who knew how many different electrical operations.

It was warm, too. Very warm.

"Here you are, horse," the fisting fennec said, opening another door. "Gen Pop."

It was such a relief to not be in the white hallway anymore that he stepped through without looking, and no sooner had he done so than he realized that it was a mistake. The door shut behind him, all but melting into the wall, and he looked at the prisoners that were waiting.

It was like staring at the gallery of rogues that he kept in his files in the outside world. There were villains that he'd seen time and time again in the courtyard below, ringed by the catwalks of the various levels of Gen Pop. All of them had turned already, looking up at him, and all of them...

Yes, all of them were as naked as he was. And some were popping hate boners.

He saw General Victorious, a bull that had great powers of super-strength, and who had commissioned a set of armor that had stood up to tank shells. The bull's other power, that of Rally, had managed to bring more and more people of the city under his banner with each victory he had. His 'charisma' grew with successful conflict, and the more that he won, the more that people wanted to follow him. Their fight, in the end, had barely settled in Horus's favor, and a little shiver ran down his spine as he imagined what might happen if he ended up having to fight the bull without his own powers.

Then there was Dark Storm, a slender wisp of a raven, sitting at one of the tables down below. The raven's powers were quite simple, really; he conjured storm clouds out of nothing and drowned people in them, bringing them from the heavens to the street and surrounding people in smothering darkness and wet. There were some that had drowned in his clouds, and others that had gone mad and deaf within from the constant thunderclaps. The raven lounged back, looking up at him as he tapped feathery fingers on the table.

Then there was Shock Treatment. The opossum looked like a cartoonish mental patient that had escaped from his asylum, fur wild and his eyes no less so. His electrical powers were such that they could have powered half the city for a year, if he were to dedicate himself to that. Instead, he'd gotten the mad idea that he could go around 'fixing' people with targeted electrical shocks to their brains. The army of semi-zombies that he had created had barely been put down at the end of a long, extended fight, but the jail time certainly hadn't seemed to make him saner.

And then...then there was Mafia.

Horus's hands tightened around the railing as he looked down at the boar in corner of the bottom floor, leaning against an open cell. The older man was thick-chested and well-muscled, stronger than the slightly chubby-man that he'd put away after the latest crime wave that the porcine man had pulled. He and Mafia had gone up against each other time after time, though the latter had always put up a proxy fighter, manipulating the various other villains of the city to fight against him rather than fighting Horus himself.

Until that last fight. Until he'd knocked the Godfather of Crime off his pedestal and sent him to the Super Max.

Looks like he's pulling the same sort of organization in here that he did out there, he thought, looking at the other criminals. They're looking at him for permission...which means he's going to be the one to start things...

Details; he had to start collecting details. Four levels to Gen Pop, each level laid out like a U-shape until one got to the bottom. That meant that there would be stairs at the top and bottom of the U-corners, leading up and down between the different levels. Maybe a lift that was locked down by security to allow disabled prisoners to be taken where they needed to go, but that would be useless until or unless he had something that allowed him to use it.

And I'm at the top...and...no unoccupied cells up here, from the looks of it...

And none on two of the levels below him, either. In fact, the only obvious unoccupied cells were at the very bottom level, where the big players were. Mafia and the others were watching him, and the boar smirked as he tapped his fingers against his cell door, clearly thinking of something.

Horus's calm demeanor cracked. His hands clenched hard around the railing as he fought the panic rising in the back of his head.

I could die here...I could actually die here...

"Well, well, well..."

Another familiar voice. He stood up ramrod straight as he heard a familiar voice. He half-turned -

A claw to his throat stopped him from going any further. A sultry chuckle filled his ear and a warmth pressed against him from behind, pinning him - and his half-hard cock - to the railing between him and the four-story drop.

"Ah ah. Don't turn around."

"Shadowclaw."

"Indeed," the panther said, chuckling. "I may not have my invisibility powers in this prison, but I certainly still have my stealth...and my preference for keeping people from staring too long..."

He remembered that thief. Shadowclaw had been a pain in the ass to catch. Invisibility powers were always a particularly annoying set to deal with, and Shadowclaw's preference for not being seen meant that he had studied his powers more than a lot of villains did. He had gone the extra mile to be particularly effective with them.

In the end, he had been brought in for making a simple mistake at a grocery store and spending money marked as stolen. He might have even gotten away with that if Horus hadn't been in a neighboring lane.

"I still remember that awkward moment at the store, my good stallion," the panther said, tracing his claw around Horus's throat. "And I think that you...remember it as well...yes?"

"...I remember having to fight you blind."

"Quite literally so. You closed your eyes."

"It was the only way."

"It was the right way...It was something nobody else did. And it made me realize something. Perhaps you aren't the worst person in the world."

"..."

"And that is why, heh, I am probably the only person in this prison that believes that you've been framed."

The claw slid away as the panther stepped back, but Horus barely felt it. His heart started pounding in his chest.

"The man that would respect my wishes and not look at me...he wouldn't hurt one person, let alone kill one, or hundreds. Whatever happened, this wasn't you. And - ah, I see, I see...you haven't heard that yet, have you? Everyone throwing blame at you?"

"...A lot of people."

"And that is why you just...took it, hmm? Nobody believed in you. Oh, the power of belief and hate. A pity that you just submitted. Perhaps the system could have been different. Perhaps -"

"If one of you don't think I did it, then there can be others."

And if there were others, then there was reason to fight. But he couldn't do that in here. He thumped his hands against the railing and pushed himself back from it, already running through plans. If he was going to get out of here, there was a lot of security to get through, not to mention the trackers and monitors that every prisoner wore. He doubted that he'd see the security forces again for a while, but -

"Oh? Is someone planning an escape attempt?" Shadowclaw chuckled. "Trust me. That won't be so easy...but I feel like it might be...amusing. And I might be willing to help, if you are willing to pay the price."

"Name it," Horus said.

"So eager...come to my cell, and let's talk."

He didn't turn until Shadowclaw had at least six seconds to start walking, and only then, when he was sure that he wouldn't look the feline in the face, did he turn around. The black-furred feline walked to the right, each step as silent as a windless night. There was a slight sway to that muscled rump, as well as a glint of the monitor buried in that hole, but he didn't look there for long. He dropped his eyes to the panther's legs, then his feet, keeping as little in view as possible.

He was not going to alienate his only ally so far.

Following him past the other cells, they reached the open door at the far end of the top-right of the U-shape the top floor had. Shadowclaw stepped inside and curled his tail for the horse to follow, and he did.

No sooner had he stepped inside than Shadowclaw turned around. The panther leaned back against the wall, hips thrust forward ever so slightly.

"If you want my help, then you're going to 'help' me. Everyone else...would look. You...you won't. So get on your knees...and do it blind..."

...I should have expected this...

Unfortunately, he didn't have a lot of options. He had one potential ally in a room full of people that hated him. He was locked in the most potent, well-designed Super Max prison for supers in the world, and he had no access to his own powers. All he could do was find opportunities and make use of them.

And now that he knew that it was possible that someone might actually believe that he was innocent - and if a villain could, so could quite a few more - then he knew that he had to get out. One way or another...he would clear his name.

So, he got down on his knees, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth...

The End

Summary: A hero named Horus is accused of mass murder, but the responsibility rests with someone else. Guilt drives him to prison, but what happens when he gets there?

Tags: M/solo, M/M, Supers, Prison, Naked, Fingering, Plugged, Anal Plug, Horse, Crocodile, Panther, Various Species, Locked In With Criminals, Series, Erection, Forced Erection, Bondage,