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An Impossible Sentence

Chapter 3

For Mizzukat

By Draconicon

Horus was barely conscious when he was taking back to Gen Pop, and he conked out almost immediately. It wasn't until he opened his eyes the next morning, feeling something rubbing against his exposed cock, that he remembered that he was still in prison. More to the point, he had a reminder of who his cell-mate was, and he groaned under his breath as soft, black-furred panther toes played with his cock.

"Well, well, you're finally awake."

"Don't remind me."

"They've come up with a new name for you in the cells, you know," Shadowclaw said. "Do you want to guess?"

"Ugh...is it bad?"

"Quite. And certainly enough to make me wince."

"...What is it?"

"Hermcules."

Horus groaned, rolling his eyes as he covered his face.

"That's not even the right mythology. I'm from - mmmph - I'm using Egyptian themes. That's Greek..."

"I doubt that they care. It is insulting, and that is sufficient unto the point."

Grumbling under his breath, Horus ran through the events of the last day. Arrested, brought to the Super Max, molested, filled with a butt-plug, at least semi-raped by General Victorious, and then offered a chance to get out of prison - potentially - if he allowed the Warden to breed him.

Quite the eventful day.

He sat up, only to hiss as soon as Shadowclaw pushed his toes in a bit more firmly. The claws didn't prick the skin of his shaft, but it was sufficient to keep him very aware of just how sharp those little points were, and what they could do to his cock if he didn't hold very, very still.

"Do you have to do that?" he muttered.

"It is a way to pass the time. And I doubted that you would be entirely willing to wake up with someone playing with it properly. As much as I enjoyed your blowjob yesterday, I imagine that your cock would be even more satisfying. I haven't had something that I could control myself for quite a while, and I would enjoy having the opportunity to ride someone that wasn't going to try and ruin me afterward."

"Mmmph...I thought you -"

"Ah, ah." The panther's surprisingly soft soles squeezed from both sides. "I am hardly some little cell-block slut, so don't go getting the wrong idea. I just have my own pleasures, and my own desires. And sometimes, those desires involve taking the hard cock of someone else under my tail and seeing if they can last long enough to satisfy me. It has nothing to do with being the one under another."

He could see that. The way that those feet were slowly stroking, teasing, even milking his cock told him that he wasn't just getting serviced here. Shadowclaw was doing what he wanted, and no more.

"Mmmph..."

"Pray tell, what did the Warden want? You were gone for longer than a simple trip to the infirmary."

"Mmmph...an offer - ah - an offer to...give me protection in exchange for...mmmph...letting him do a few...few things to me."

"Ah, I see. Well...I doubt that you're going to trust that."

He shook his head as the panther pinned his cock in place, one foot at the base of his shaft and the other grinding just short of roughly against the head of his shaft. He could feel each little grind against the throbbing, growing flare, and it was just enough to make him grit his teeth and hiss as well as ooze pre-cum all over the panther's padded sole. Grind, push, grind, push, always milking out a little bit more.

"So, what will you do?" Shadowclaw asked.

"Mmmph...gonna have to...have to make a deal with Mafia, I guess," he groaned. "Do you have to -"

"Mmm, have to is a hard phrase," the panther said, chuckling. "But if you want me to keep talking, I must amuse myself somehow. My help never comes without price."

"Great..."

In other words, his cock would be a plaything whenever they were having a conversation. That was going to make things awkward, to say the least. He huffed to himself, the urge to thrust against the panther's surprisingly soft soles getting stronger and stronger as he kept forcing himself to calm down again.

"I noticed...mmph...I noticed that...that there's...some power down there..."

"Ah, yes. You've noticed more than the guards have, then."

"Then..."

"Either there is a weakness in the depowering grid, or Mafia and his people have found a way around it. Either way, it means that there is some super powers coming through in a place where there should be none."

Confirmation, then. But the question was, if they had some of their power back, why weren't they using it to break out?

There were too many holes in his understanding of the prison for him to get a good reason for that. He would have to keep looking -

"Mmmph...ah..."

"Getting close, are we, Mr. Stud Stick?"

"Mmmph...more than...more than I'd like."

"Ah, then I shall stop."

And with the same feline disregard that cats everywhere had for any sort of personal possession, the black cat pulled his feet back, disappearing back to the top bunk. Horus bit off a groan of frustration, shaking his head as he finally sat up properly. The feeling of that throbbing erection, kept up by the improvised handcuff cock ring around his cock and balls and sheath, didn't make it any better.

But at least he wasn't coated in some sort of mess.

The brown-furred stallion leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees and doing his best to ignore his cock bouncing against his pecs and begging for more attention. If he could think through this, if he could just nail down what Mafia had in mind for whatever his plot was, then he could start figuring out how to sort himself into it. Because if there was one person that could find his way out of the Super Max, it was that fucking asshole. One way or another, the boar was going to get out, and with his various allies -

"Hey. Hermcules."

Biting back the angry retort that wanted so badly to slip past his lips, he looked up. A young man - not quite a full bull, but definitely more than a calf - looked back at him. He had a branding along one hip that matched the sigil that General Victorious raised with his banners, his cock was clumsily pierced with a piece of salvaged metal, and there was a scar across his chest that had clearly been cut into place.

Looks like the General's keeping his marks on his underlings...

"The herd-master wants to see you," the bovine man said.

"I'm guessing that means the General."

"He wants you now, Hermcules."

"...I'm coming."

Best not let them think too hard about whether he was still bound to the bull, he supposed. If they thought that he was controlled, all the better, because that meant that they might make some mistakes, and he needed them to be as clumsy as possible if he was going to take advantage of them. They already held more cards than he'd ever get dealt in this prison.

He got to his hooves and followed the other man through the various levels of Gen Pop, making their way down the stairs and avoiding the more dangerous parts. Some of the crazier prisoners started to make their way toward him, but the others, more sane than their friends, stopped it from getting out of hand. Either the General's mark or the fact that he was going down to talk to Mafia meant that he had some safe passage at the moment. Whether that would keep working on his way back up, however, remained to be seen. Somehow, he doubted it.

They reached the bottom floor in short order, and the three lieutenants of the boar were there to meet him. The tall bull smirked at him, grabbing him by the dick as soon as he came in reach. Horus hissed through his teeth at the tight grip right behind his flare, barely resisting the urge to thrust forward and fuck the other man's fist.

"Looks like the mare has come home. How are you feeling, brood-mare? Did my seed take in you, or are you going to need a few more treatments before it finally clicks?"

"Herd-Master, I did what you said. Can I - can I, please?" the bovine man asked.

"Kneel, and greet me properly, calf."

The younger male moaned as he did as he was told, immediately falling to his hands and knees and pressing his muzzle right between the bull's legs. General Victorious chuckled, his cock twitching up ever so slowly, but at least it loosened his grip. Horus delicately pulled his hips back, taking the chance to slip loose of that grip, at least. For as pleasurable as it could be, he felt like his dick had been in danger of getting twisted right off of his crotch.

The other two lieutenants kept their eyes on him. Dark Storm had that same sort of guarded expression, the raven's eyes narrowed and suspicious, while Shock Treatment was more just...staring. There was no greater understanding in his eyes, no anger, no real emotion of any sort. The opossum just stared, his fingers twitching and - now that the horse knew what to look for - crackling. There was just enough charge between them to reveal a lightning strike here and there, too small for sound, but enough to be seriously dangerous.

Shadowclaw hadn't been lying. Something was wrong with the depowering grid.

"I'm here to talk to Mafia," he said. "I did what you asked last time. I earned the chance to talk to him."

"That depends on what he says," Dark Storm said. "And if I were him, I wouldn't trust a hero. No matter what they do."

"And that suspicion is what makes you dangerous to yourself as well as everyone else, little bird," the boar called from within his cell. "While I can't imagine that we can completely trust our friend here, I am sure that he's earned the right to come in and speak with me. There's no need to be completely antagonistic with a potential ally, after all. Come, Hermcules."

"Must you?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I must, heh. Now, come in...and say nothing."

Say nothing. That was somewhat surprising. He remembered the roundabout way of talking that the boar had had before, and he wondered if there was something more to the plugs that they were all forced to wear than just scanning vital signs and sending location data back to the administration. What if there was something more? What if they had something that -

He rounded the slight bend that had kept Mafia out of sight until then, and his eyes went wide. Sitting in the cell with the criminal was another boar, one that had clearly been tied up for a while. His arms were bruised and his legs likewise, and he was kept bent over the toilet in the back of the cell. His ass was up, and -

He took his plug out and put it in someone else, Horus realized. He can move around without anyone knowing about it...

The boar held up a hand, nodding toward a notebook on the cell bed. Horus tentatively picked it up.

The other boar is a former guard. He 'disappeared' some time ago, according to the staff records. We found him useful as a toy, at first, but then we realized that we could start shifting some of their information. Having someone that's the same species as an inmate makes it far easier to just leave our plug with them and go about our business.

For now, make sure that you only say private things by writing. They can hear us, but they can't see us in here. If you want to work with us, remember what is and isn't private.

Mafia had been busy, indeed. Horus looked up from the notebook and nodded, taking a few deep breaths as he realized what he was about to try and do.

The boar hadn't just been the kingpin behind the criminal element in the city. He had been completely connected with every conceivable aspect of the criminal and political world, every link going through him. It had been a miracle that the justice system had managed to get the boar sent to jail when they did, and a greater miracle still that they had sent him to a super villain prison rather than a regular one.

Maybe that was why they were so eager to get rid of me, he thought. I was part of that, and he was bribing so many of them...

And here he was, getting ready to ride along with the boar's plan to get out of prison. It was madness, but so were all the other decisions that he had available. He had to pick something, and at least with this, he was working with people that believed he was innocent.

Mafia looked different than he had when he was out on the street. The boar had previously been slightly chubby, a bit thick from sitting behind a desk and only coming out to do the dirty work from time to time. Yet, that sharp glint in his eyes, that immaculate intelligence that knew far too much and saw far too deep at the same time hadn't faded. The boar's tusks were dulled, shaved down, but he had greater muscle than his suits had ever shown off in the past. Middle-aged with a little gray on his chest, the boar had the thick muscles and hard pecs of someone that had been hitting the gym on a daily basis, and his shaft hung thick and fat from a sheath that had been tightened from weight loss.

And those pig balls were nearly as big as his own, and far balder and more exposed. Not a hint of shame about it, either, as far as he could tell.

Mafia passed him a ragged pencil, probably stolen off one of the guards, and nodded at the pad. The stallion looked down, thought for a moment, and then started writing.

I want out, he wrote, passing it back.

I imagine so. We all want out, guilty or not. But the question is, what makes a hero want to get out the illegal way?

I'm not going to get out any legal way. They stopped listening to me when the politicians started lying about me being responsible for all those deaths. They wanted someone to blame, and...well, someone with powers is easier to pin it on than someone without.

The boar nodded. He gestured around, not even having to say anything. It was...surprisingly hard not to feel a sweeping moment of empathy for some of the villains that had been locked up. Guilty of crimes or not - and most of them definitely were - being locked up himself made him realize how quick the public were to send the 'dangerous' ones off to some hidden place where they never had to be thought of again.

But that was neither here nor there. He went back to writing.

I know that you have some kind of plan. You always have a plan. The question is, what do I have to do to get out when you push for it?

Now, that's a very interesting question, and something that I will have to think on for a while. After all, someone like you would be very useful on the outside, particularly as - as we both know - you'd owe me a bit of a favor for getting you out.

I'm not going to cover up crimes for you. Or commit them.

_That is something that we can work out later. For now, however, you are unfortunately dealing with a great deal of hate from my underlings. I can't even blame them, really; someone like you, throwing away the key for everyone that commits even a little murder? It's going to happen, unfortunately.

If you want to be part of my little organization, my little Hermcules, then you'll simply have to make sure that my underlings are willing to trust you. And that means that you'll have to let them do what they want. The more that they can play with you, the less that they'll worry about you stabbing them in the back. I believe that the good General already had some warmer feelings about you, but the others..._

That was what he had been afraid of. He knew that he'd have to face some indignities and risk a great deal of his own mental freedom, but he hadn't thought that it would be quite so blatant as this. He looked at the pad as he tried to think of some way forward that didn't involve bending over and letting the villains use him -

Or at least, not the others. The idea of the General bending him against one of the pillars or pushing him down and reaming his pussy again was...surprisingly pleasurable, despite what he had made happen last time. The idea of that thick dick working its way deep enough to have a better chance of impregnating him -

That wasn't what he was there for. For once, he was grateful for the fact that the handcuff served as a cock ring down there. His continuous erection could be blamed on that rather than the thoughts buzzing through his head.

Fine. I'll...see what I can do.

Good, good. And when you're done, and they trust you, then we can look at getting out of here. I'm sure that you've already figured out that the depowering grid is fading. It's weakest down here, but there are weaknesses all over the prison. And more than that...there's ways for you to get your power, too.

He blinked, staring at the notepad. Mafia chuckled, taking it back and writing a little more.

Come now, what is sunlight but the collection of all the proper light waves, beamed through with a little radiation? Collect enough keys, and get down to one of the power conduits, and you can just about simulate it. At least, for a little while...

Horus had never even thought about that. Oh, he'd fantasized about maybe finding a weak point in the wall and ripping it open to get a little bit of sunlight for his purposes, but he'd never even thought that he might be able to simulate it. There'd never been any need during the day, and the night shifts for the city security had been down to some of the other heroes around. He'd never needed to have fake light.

But in here...

Horus slowly got to his feet, but before he could leave, the boar tapped the notepad once more. He leaned down to read it.

Remember. Not a word. If I find out that you spoke to anyone else about this plan - even someone that you think is part of it - then I will kick you out. And that won't be the end of it. I will deal with you properly. Don't think that I've forgotten how I ended up here; even though you might be useful, I won't have you threaten the plan.

Nodding in understanding, Horus left the boar's cell. A little shiver ran down his spine as he realized just how complicated the situation was, and just how much danger he was in.

The General already fucked with my head once, and that means that he could do it again if he decides that he needs a second round. Dark Storm could actually drown me, considering that he has some power down here; I'll have to try and satisfy him on the other floors for my own safety. And Shock Treatment -

Just as soon as the opossum's name entered his head, he was shocked out of it by a sudden zap to the base of his spine. Horus stiffened, every muscle in his body cramping at once, but the current stopped right at the base of his spine, only affecting the upper parts, and carefully going around his heart. He spasmed, unable to move, unable to turn as slender fingers traced up and down his back.

Shock Treatment had snuck up on him, and the powerful waves of electricity emanating from his fingers were already taking control of the horse's body.

Zap.

Zap.

Zap.

In short order, he was left completely paralyzed, legs slightly spread, and his hair stood out like he'd been blasted with static electricity. His cunt was clenching on nothing, his cock was throbbing and oozing like a pre-cum fountain, and his eyes were wild and wide. He couldn't turn, couldn't move, couldn't do anything -

Zap.

He dropped to his knees, his body obeying a different command. It was like the external source of electricity was taking over, replacing the commands that his brain could send down his spine to his nerves. Some muscles clenched, trying to -

Don't fight, don't fight, Horus had to remind himself. This is...this is part of what I have to do. Let them do what they want, let them have their 'revenge.' If they can stop fearing me, then I can get in with them, and...and then I can get out.

It was humiliating, beyond humiliating, but at least this way, he would be able to keep some sense of his own freedom. Going with the Warden, allowing that bastard to seed him and make him into nothing more than a breeding girl, would have been impossible to stand. He would have lost his mind and gone completely insane with that. He was not meant for breeding. He was meant for fighting.

At least this...this was something that he could take, like the consequences of losing a fight or something.

"Hermcules."

Shock Treatment's voice was little more than a hiss, the opossum's touch - now that it wasn't channeling electricity so carefully - more twitchy and jumpy. He giggled and bounced, darting around the kneeling stallion, looking at him from all sides. The opossum's cock was completely hard, though no more than seven inches long, and dripping. He covered his mouth, then laughed, then covered his mouth again.

"Hermcules. All mine. Mine. No fighting. No fists. No more punching. Just fucking. Fucking and rutting and - yes, yes, mine. Yes, yes."

There was the madness. It was either complete madness or a strange sense of philosophical genius that would come out of the opossum. One side was completely selfish, the other side almost selfless in the belief that everyone was flawed and needed to be helped. There was a doctor that wanted to come out in that madness, but it was warped by the constant shocks that went through the poor man's brain.

Shock Treatment lunged for him, forcing his mouth open for a kiss. It was messy, almost more like getting his face raped by a tongue than anything else, but he endured it, allowing the opossum to thrust away, tasting him, almost biting his lips more than once before pulling away. The huffing, gasping, shivering creature kept running around him, almost like he had too much energy, building up something -

ZAP!

Another shock, strong, pleasurable, and it sent him falling to all fours immediately. He didn't even yelp, not even when his hands slapped against the floor and nearly cracked at the wrist from the harsh impact. No sound, not even a slight whimper escaped his lips. He made sure of that.

"Breed hole. Breed hole."

Narrow fingers pulled his pussy open, and this time, there was no seduction, no waiting. There was just one quick thrust, and the opossum was in.

There was no burning pleasure the way that there had been with General Victorious, but there was still something down there. The constant electrical zapping around that cock was hitting him, making him feel things that he normally wouldn't, and he groaned as he felt it plunging in, out, in, out, always touching at some sensitive spot. Not quite the g-spot, not the way that the General had, but more like a vibrating hum all around the shaft that stung and pleased him at the same time.

It was bad enough just getting that, made wet and slick from the opossum's ambient power, but it was worse when Shock Treatment grabbed the back of his head.

ZAP!

"Breeder! Breeder!"

The constant shocks rocked him to his core, leaving him almost facedown on the ground from the first one. As they hit him, it felt like they were doing something in his skull, re-writing a part of him.

Breeder, Breeder repeated in his mind, rattling around like a mad shriek, and his pussy clenched hard around the opossum's cock. Something warmed inside of him, almost like a heat, and -

The stallion arched his back as the possum all but pulled him into the thrusts. While the General had been more inclined to grab him by the hips, Shock Treatment held him by the tail and the back of his head, pulling both and yanking him back into each and every thrust. In, out, in, out, rapid and harsh, and always punctuated with another shock that stole his breath away and made everything tense up.

Breeder! Breeder!

His head ached as the words kept shocking through his mind, making it harder and harder to think through them. He knew what Shock Treatment was doing. It was the same thing that he had done to countless victims in the city, zapping them and rearranging some of the neurons in their heads, making their brain cells work differently than they were supposed to. It was harsh and nearly impossible to reverse, but -

Breeder! Breeder!

The shocks came with their own sense of pleasure and pain, his eyes rolling back as he felt his insides warming up, his pussy clenching harder, milking that invading dick for everything that it was worth. He could feel the eyes of all the prisoners on him, showing them what kind of bitch he had become for Shock Treatment. If anyone hadn't been afraid of the opossum, they would be by the end of this.

His head was spinning, his mouth hanging open as his body submitted to the breeding. When the General had been fucking him, he'd felt the urge to submit, but this was different. He still had his independence, still had the urge to hate and feel disgust towards the opossum, but the utter hunger between his legs and the throbbing in his womb made it impossible for him to focus through it. All that need, the urge to breed, to be filled with seed and made pregnant, made it impossible for him to think of anything else.

Cock.

Cum.

Fuck.

Rut.

Against his will, he rolled his hips back, and each thrust brought him a bit more pleasure, a bit closer to the inevitable climax that waited at the end of the humiliation. Shock Treatment's words had devolved to gibberish, but the shocks kept coming.

Zap.

Zap.

Zap.

Horus moaned as he was pushed further and further, right to the edge of his endurance. The opossum pulled his head back, making him look at the rest of the prison. Dozen of eyes on him, dozens of people staring at the downfall of the city's guardian as he submitted to a crazy little trash-eater. There he was, on his knees, begging with each thrust of his hips to be bred.

It was as shameful as shameful could get...and he couldn't stop himself as he came, hard.

His cock all but scraped the concrete floor as he came, clenching down, and Shock Treatment came inside him at the same moment. The warmth jetting through his insides went deeper than the half-orgasm that the General had gotten inside of him, and he whimpered despite himself.

Opossum...not compatible...too...too different...

And so, the heat continued...and so did the sex.

#

Two hours later, he was allowed to leave. Shock Treatment went so far as to hug him after they were done, which somehow made the whole session worse, and the stallion made his way to the stairs. His pussy oozed with useless cum, drooling down his thighs and all the way down to his hooves, and he wobbled with every step with the clenching going on inside.

Breeder! Breeder!

Something in him had changed, he realized. Something that he could have resisted, but hadn't. Whatever else happened, he'd be dealing with a low-level compulsion to breed and a minor heat for the rest of his life. Even if he found someone as good at electrical rewiring as Shock Treatment was, he wouldn't be surprised if the damage was done. Permanent.

Some of the prisoners tried to bother him on the way up, but no sooner had they reached out to him than they yelped, pulling back. The third time that it happened, he looked over his shoulder to the bottom floor.

Sure enough, Shock Treatment was watching him climb to the top floor. The damaged opossum might be a complete asshole, but at the very least, he was protective of the stallion now.

He didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

He reached the top floor and his cell. Shadowclaw was still there, or at least the outline of him was. The panther didn't say anything as the horse slid into bed, lying on his side and groaning under his breath. The soft squish of even more seed getting forced out of him only made the little hunger inside of him worse, and he wrapped his arms around his middle as he huffed and groaned.

"Mmm, bad time?" Shadowclaw asked.

"Weren't you watching?"

"I have no horse in this race, pardon the phrase."

"Mmmph..."

"Shock Treatment?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"My condolences. But, as ever, it was your own choice."

"What other choice...did I fucking have?" Horus muttered, forcing himself to lie on his back. "I side with...the other guy...and I get turned into some sort of brood mare. I do this...at least I have a chance."

"Mmm, indeed, but what sort of chance is it when you're already different than you started?"

"I'm trying...very hard...not to think about that."

"Ah, yes, not thinking. Surely, a good solution to a complicated problem."

"Shut up..."

As much as he didn't want to admit it, he knew that Shadowclaw was right. There was a distinct possibility that he wouldn't even get out of the prison before the three subordinates for the goddamn crime boss fucked him up to the point where he was no longer recognizable. He could end up being nothing more than a horny husk of his former self, something that was better suited as a lesson to other heroes of what not to do.

But...really, he couldn't afford anything else. There was no way that he could break out on his own. Mafia's understanding of the prison was probably better than anyone's but Maxson's, and that was a big if. If he could just hold out...

You're a hero. You have done harder things than this. Take the abuse, try and keep them from changing you, and...and just get out. You can get better later as long as you can survive this.

He pulled his pillow a little closer, wrapping his arms around it and closing his eyes. This was going to be a long, long, long night, and he doubted that he'd feel any better by morning. However, if he was going to get through this, then he needed rest, or they would break him without even trying.

Horus wasn't going down without a fight.

The End

Summary: The stallion comes back to find a new nickname, and makes a decision of what to do.

Tags: H/M, H/solo, Footjob, Vaginal, Size Difference, Breeding, Conditioning, Corruption, Humiliation, Public, E-stim, Possum, Boar, Raven, Horse, Panther, Bull, Ownership, Prison, Slavery, Series,