The warm tones of a pedal steel guitar floated from the speakers like campfire smoke rising into the night. The Sylveon’s heavy hand reached over to the knob, turning it to the right by a few degrees, before returning to the wheel. His other arm, brawny and decorated with tattoos, hung outside the open window, feeling the night air rush against it as he drove. He glanced over his shoulder, as though looking for oncoming cars; satisfied that none would be coming for some time, he pulled over to the side of the road and parked.

Butch had gone out of his way for this, long past the point where asphalt turned to dirt. It wouldn’t be too much trouble; he knew how to get back to the main road, and given what he was about to do he was going to need as much privacy as he could get. God knows that he was the sort to attract attention; it wasn’t every day that people saw a musclegutted six foot seven Sylveon in a leather jacket and combat boots. Butch climbed out of the driver’s seat, put the keys in his pocket, and made his way over to the backseat. He opened the door, looked at his passenger, and smiled.

“How’d you hold up back there, boy?”

A muffled, high-pitched squeal came from the floor of the truck, and something moved. The “boy” was a skinny nineteen year old fox with his arms bound behind his back, still wearing his clothes from his shift at the gas station. Green eyes looked up at Butch with mute terror, kept quiet with a rag in his mouth and duct tape on his lips. The name tag on his lapel read “Addison” in red letters.

The fox was about to give another panicked scream through his gag, but the deep, rich voice of the Sylveon stopped him. “Just calm down for a minute, Addie. I ain’t gonna kill ya.” That didn’t seem to be much comfort for Addie, but he kept quiet, even as he quivered like a kicked dog.

“You from Cornett, boy?” Addie froze for a second, not sure what he should reveal, before nodding.

“It was in the news a couple years ago, y’know. Terrible thing. There was a queer fella by the name of Conway, not too much older than you are now. Think he was a fox like you, maybe a fennec. But folks found out he was queer, and a couple kids got together and they jumped him. You know what they did to him?” There was nothing from the fox but silence; not a sound, not a shake of the head.

“Well, first they stripped him naked,” Butch continued. “Then they grabbed some baseball bats and went at him ‘til his legs broke. Once they’d done that, they wrapped a chain ‘round his neck and tied the chain to the bumper of one of their trucks. Then they drove ‘round and dragged Conway along the road ‘til he wasn’t Conway no more. They doused the body in gasoline and lit a match, and that was how they found him in the morning.” Nothing in the Sylveon’s tone suggested anger or sadness or disgust; it was plain and matter-of-fact. Addie stayed silent, his eyes saucer-wide.

“Ain’t that a terrible thing to do to someone?” Butch asked. “Even if I thought somebody was the lowest son of a bitch on this Earth I wouldn’t do that to them. And for nothin’ but being a little different...well, I just don’t know.” For a second, the Sylveon had a faraway look in his eye; he blinked it free.

“Of course, the police weren’t in a hurry to figure out who did it. I grew up in the Panhandle, I know how it goes.” Butch leaned forward, grinning down at Addie. “But I stopped in Cornett tonight for a drink, and I saw something interesting. You know what it was?” Addie whimpered through his gag as the Sylveon’s smoky-velvet voice rumbled.

“It was a scrawny l’il fox just done with work, on his third beer and laughin’ about how Conway tried to crawl away after his legs broke.”

Addie was making more noise, now. He was moaning, whining, crying around his gag and trying to wriggle free. He was trying to say something, over and over. “Prrreeee dmmm kimme! Prrrrdmmmkmme! Prmmm! Prmmm!”

Butch chuckled. “I already said I ain’t gonna kill you, son,” he said. “I’m gonna teach you a lesson, that’s all. What good’s a lesson when you’re dead?” The fox went still; he was still hyperventilating, but he wasn’t screaming. The burly Sylveon nodded, reached down to the floor of his truck, and pulled Addie up, grunting and dropping him on the ground like a sack of potatoes.

The moans and whines started up again, and Addie tried to squirm to his feet. A heavy leather boot on his back held him in place, and that warm molasses voice spoke again.

“You think queers are easy targets, don’t you?” Butch said. “Maybe that’s true in Cornett, but it ain’t true everywhere. And it sure as hell ain’t true here.” The fox heard the sound of a belt being unbuckled, and a pair of blue jeans landing on the ground. “‘Cuz this queer’s gonna make sure you remember that your whole life.”

The fox started to weep as Butch rolled down the navy blue pants from the gas station and Addie’s own white underwear, baring his tight virgin bottom. Wordless groans and snorts and incoherent pleas for mercy were muffled by the gag, but Butch would have ignored them even if it wasn’t there.

The big Sylveon was naked from the waist down, giving his cock a few pumps to warm it up. Butch was at the age where he couldn’t get it hard too quickly, but he had plenty of time to prepare. It only took a couple tugs for that hefty pink dick, fat and uncut, to reach its full hardness. He got on the ground with the pathetic fox, pushing his shoulders onto the ground and pinning them down while keeping his ass up.

“I know it’s your first time,” Butch said, “so I’ll go a little easy on ya.” He chuckled at that little joke, prodded the tip of his dick against Addie’s hole, and…

The whimpering through the gag turned into a full-throated screech of pain as the Sylveon’s hips slowly pushed forward, forcing that thick cock into the fox’s tight asshole. Butch gave a low, pleasured groan from the back of his throat as Addie’s hole clenched tight around his shaft, the warmth and friction of it making the big Pokemon grunt.

Addie, meanwhile, thrashed in the dirt, eyes scrunched shut from the agony. Every inch that Butch pushed his cock in was another world of pain for the fox, and from the talk they had earlier there was no sign that the Sylveon would be going any easier on him. By the time all nine inches were fully hilted inside of him the fox was sobbing like his leg was snapped in two.

The thrusting began slowly. Butch’s cock slid backwards, the nine inches in Addie’s hole becoming eight, then seven, then six. But once there was only the head of his dick left inside, the Sylveon gave a hard thrust, his pelvis clapping against the fox’s rear and making the fox himself squeal in shrill pain.

“You’re real tight, y’know,” Butch said, almost conversationally, as he started to slowly pump his hips to begin a rhythm of thrusts. “Never tried nothin’ before? Not even a finger?” The ceaseless wails coming from the fox served as his answer. “Well, you can’t say that no more, can you?” The Sylveon chuckled. “Hell, I guess this makes you a queer now, huh?”

Addie’s eyes had rolled into the back of his head, wracked by the pain shooting through his body with each thrust from the burly Sylveon. He felt like he was about to pass out, whether from the pain or the tears or the hyperventilation. He cried out through his gag, desperately trying to make it stop. “EEEEEEEEEEESE!” That earned him nothing more than a hand bracing on the back of his head, pinning it into the dirt as the Sylveon sped up.

The rhythm, originally a slow, steady plap, plap, plap, gradually become a brisker plap plap plap of hips clapping against buttocks. Butch grunted as he angled himself to push as deep inside the fox as he could, to really put the hurt on Addie as he took his pleasure. Each thrust spread Addie open wider, and each thrust made the poor vulpine feel like he was being ripped in two.

“Y’ain’t wrigglin’ around like you were,” Butch remarked, punctuating it with another harsh thrust and earning a shriek from the fox. “I ain’t boring you, am I?” One hand dug into the scruff of Addie’s neck, and the other braced against his shoulder. “Maybe I ought to go a little quicker. Think that’d get you goin’?” Ignoring the panicked cries of the fox, the Sylveon shifted gears.

Plaplaplaplaplaplaplaplap! Each thrust smacked hard against Addie’s rear, and each one made the fox feel like he was being violated with a red hot poker. He howled out, his struggling renewed, and Butch kept at it. He wasn’t a monster-in fact, he could be a gentle, considerate lover-but there was no room for tenderness here. This was a pure, good old-fashioned rape.

“Nnnnnghf…” Butch groaned, tilting his head back as he kept up his fearsome speed. “You know, I’ve fucked guys who thought they were straight ‘fore they had me. And something they used to say is that it ain’t gay unless he comes inside of you. Ever hear that before?” The fox didn’t move, and only gave a keening whine as response.

“Well, how about I give you a choice? If you let me come inside this tight l’il ass of yours, I’ll drive you back to the main road and drop you off. It’ll be easier for you to get home that way. Mmmmf!” He gave another deep thrust, earning another agonized scream from Addie. “If you really don’t wanna be a queer, I can pull out and jerk myself off the rest of the way. But if I do that, I’m leaving you right here, and you’ll have to walk all twenty miles back to the highway yourself.” He smirked. “Or you can just lay here ‘til you die. I don’t really give a shit either way.”

The massive Sylveon hilted himself inside the fox’s hole and waited. “Tap your left foot if you want me to come in you. If you want me to pull out, tap your right foot. Take your time, I’ve got all night.”

For a minute, the only sound was wind, crickets, and Addie’s ragged breath. He didn’t wriggle or scream or cry; instead, he simply lay there, eyes closed, as though choosing between life or death. In a way, he was.

Addie’s right foot lifted up and struck the ground, three times.