As Benny Pollard walked out of the Blue Moon on a Friday evening, pleasantly drunk on whiskey shots and arm-in-arm with his giggling, gleeful girlfriend, he felt like he could climb Mount Everest in flip-flops if he wanted to. All things considered, his achievement wasn’t that monumental; the fox was a computer programmer, and he had recently earned a promotion that gave him a substantial pay raise. It wasn’t as though he had saved someone from a burning building. And yet Benny felt like this was bigger than him, in some way. When he first moved to Buntington, it was just another mid-sized city in North Carolina; it was moderately popular for tech startups, but nothing significant. Ten years later, it had become one of the fastest-growing cities on the East Coast, and here was Benny at the heart of it, getting promoted and climbing the ladder. It made him feel like he was helping build something truly significant--and the raise didn’t hurt, either.

“Could kiss you right now, baby,” Olivia cooed in his ear. His girlfriend, a grey-furred cat with green eyes that were bleary from drink, always had trouble holding her liquor; there was a reason why Benny was the designated driver, even now that they were both plastered. Still, it was charming to see Olivia climbing all over him, giggling and smiling and smothering him with affection. Like a true feline, she kept people at arm’s length when she was sober, and yet you could barely get her off of you after a couple of shots. Benny imagined proposing to her sometime, although that would obviously be a couple of years down the line (and based on how she was now, he shuddered to imagine how she’d be at the reception with a few glasses of champagne in her).

After climbing into Benny’s modest sedan with the chipped white paint job (he resolved that it would be the first thing replaced after the raise), Olivia hiccuped, and surfaced briefly from her bubbly drunken haze to frown at her boyfriend.

“Y’sure you’re alright to drive?” she asked. 

Benny nodded, rolling his eyes. “‘Course I am.”

“OK, but you’re sure? Could call a…” Olivia thought for a moment, trying to remember whether they were called Ubers, Lyfts or cabs. “Could call a...car. Car delivery.”

“Nah,” Benny said, shaking his head. “M’fine.” He believed it, too. He turned on the ignition, and the car started up; the motor thrummed, the air conditioning whirred to life, and Olivia plugged the aux cord into her phone and started up the playlist of 90s one-hit-wonders they had been listening to earlier.

Benny pulled out of the parking spot as his girlfriend drunkenly shout-sang along to a song that neither of them realized was about meth addiction, and felt that indescribable warmth that comes when you realize that the life laid out ahead of you looks, for the first time in a while, like it could be not only easy but fun. The whiskey helped with that, too.

“Iiiiii waaaaant something else! Just to get me through this! This semi-charmed kind of life! Bay-bee! Bay-bee!”

Both of them knew that Olivia was a terrible singer, but Benny felt so good that he didn’t say anything. He sped up.

“Iiiiii waaaaant something else! I’m not listening when you say! Good-byyyyyyy-”

Halfway through the high note, there was a noise like a giant robot slamming a car door shut on his fingers, followed by a sudden stop. Benny swore as his head lurched forward, slamming into the airbag and making him see stars. Olivia stopped singing and started screaming, a halfway-coherent mess of curses and lamentations and pleas to some invisible police officer bubbling forth from her lips. A group of car horns harmonized in an impromptu and aggressive barbershop quartet, and someone was speaking very loudly and very angrily in a language Benny didn’t understand. Third Eye Blind changed to Sophie B. Hawkins on the Spotify playlist.

As Benny lifted his head from the airbag, looking at the car he t-boned in a busy intersection as the opening strains of “Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover” swelled beneath his panicking girlfriend and the chaos of car horns, he decided that he would leave this bit out of any future autobiographies.

---

Benny had gotten very lucky, or at least as lucky as he could get given the circumstances. It was an ugly car accident, but no one was killed or even seriously injured; a cut had opened above Olivia’s eyebrow from the impact of her face against the airbag, but aside from that the damage was limited to the various cars involved. His boss was remarkably understanding about the whole situation--he all but stated that he had done something similar when he was younger, and that he was willing to let it slide this one time. The only issue was the sentence, which was handed down to him by an old fox with pince-nez glasses who bore a striking resemblance to his grandmother.

“Benjamin Alexander Pollard,” she said, in the kind of country accent that suggested she had been a judge back when the population of the area consisted of a thousand people and a handful of pigs, “I sentence you to twenty-four hours in the Merrill County Jail.”

This startled Benny so much that he could barely hear the rest of the sentence, which was mostly about how she was being particularly lenient since this was his first offense. He’d be going to jail? For a whole day? He was aware, on some level, that he was lucky in this respect, too, but the idea of him in jail was simply too much to even consider. What would he do? Would he have to eat prison food? What would it even be? Meatloaf? Liver? Ground-up raccoon? Would he have to deal with prison wardens who dragged their batons along the iron bars and leeringly called him “sugar”? What would the other inmates be like? Were they murderers? Rapists? Drug traffickers? Would he have to shower with them? Would he have to look at them while they were doing it? Would he...well, he didn’t even want to think about that! When Olivia leaned her head over to kiss him on the cheek in celebration of the light sentence, he barely even reacted. He felt like he had swallowed a brick.

On the bright side, he thought to himself as he was led from the courtroom to be taken to the county jail, it could have been much worse. Buntington was in Cooley County, and due to the fast-growing population the Cooley County Jail was overcrowded and in rough shape. But the Blue Moon, where Benny had gotten piss-drunk and gotten into a car accident, was in nearby Merrill County; it was more rural and more sparsely populated, and the jail matched it. With a little bit of luck, he wouldn’t even have to worry about a cellmate. There were worse things than to be sent to some jail in the sticks and to stay there for a whole day. He would be fiiiiiiiine.

Of course, Benny thought as he was driven down the long and winding road to the Merrill County Jail, being fiiiiiiiine was very different from actually being fine.

---

Benny’s conception of jail cells came from what he had seen in movies and on television. As such, he was relieved to find that his cell did not, in fact, consist solely of a tiny cot and a bucket in the corner to piss in. There was a bunk bed with light blue sheets, a small sink, and a stainless steel toilet on the wall that reminded Benny of the kind you would use on an airplane. It wouldn’t be winning any awards for interior design, but for twenty-four hours he could live with it.

What worried him more than anything was, ironically, what gave him comfort upon being sentenced. Merrill County Jail was, in fact, much smaller and less populated than it would have been if he was arrested in Cooley County, but that sparseness made it all the more eerie. There were no prisoners hooting and hollering and rattling at the bars, there were no shouting wardens, there wasn’t the sound of rape and murder off in the distance. The prisoners that were there were quiet, for the most part, and they didn’t seem to pay him any attention at all. For the first time in a while, Benny felt truly alone.

Unfortunately for Benny, he wasn’t alone.

Standing over the stainless steel toilet, leaning his head back as he took a long, steady piss, was the biggest person Benny had seen in his entire fucking life. He was an Arcanine from the looks of him, which explained part of it; for the most part, they were a tall, sturdy species. But even by those standards, this guy was huge; by a conservative estimate, he came in just north of seven feet tall, and he was built like a truck to boot. He wore a beige prison outfit, which seemed to cling to the Arcanine’s stocky, muscle-chub body despite itself. Benny couldn’t help but stare, even as the big Pokemon tucked his dick away and turned to look at his new cellmate.

“Well, hi there,” the Arcanine said, a grin spreading across his face. “What brings you ‘round here, little guy?”

Benny gulped as he listened to the Pokemon speak. Fitting for such a big man, he had a deep, resonant voice; the kind that echoed within the halls of the county jail, seasoned with smoke, whiskey, and the sort of Southern drawl that made certain people weak in the knees. He didn’t seem quite as mean as the fox expected a prisoner to be; there was something fatherly about his appearance and voice, in fact. Or maybe “avuncular” was the right word. Whatever the case, he was asked a question, and he had to answer.

“Um…” Benny swallowed again. “Drinking and driving.” He hurried to add, “I won’t be in long. Just twenty-four hours, is what the judge said.”

The Arcanine seemed to find this quite funny. A rolling chuckle thrummed deep in his chest, and Benny could practically feel the iron bars of the cell vibrate. “Drunk driving?” the Pokemon repeated, incredulous. “Now, where d’you come from where that’s a problem?” He began to walk closer to Benny, who was sitting on the bottom bunk of the bed, looking at the Pokemon with the growing fear of one of those people in King Kong watching the gorilla break loose.

“Where I come from,” the Arcanine continued, “you could drink a whole barrel of scotch and drive for hours, and you won’t hit nothin’ or nobody. Ain’t nothin’ there to hit, ‘cept for a few trees or maybe a barn or somethin’. How’d you manage that?” He sat down next to Benny, looking straight at him with a disarmingly friendly gaze.

“Um…” Benny said, clearing his throat. “I’m from Buntington, but I got into an accident right across the county lines. So it was a...jurisdiction thing, or something.”

The Arcanine shook his head. “Naw,” he said. “You ain’t from Buntington. Maybe you live there, but you ain’t from there.” He leaned in closer; just a little bit, but enough to make Benny notice. “You ain’t from ‘round here, are you, boy?”

Boy. That sent shivers down the fox’s spine. The massive man sitting next to him, talking to him so condescendingly, with such authority, that he could call him any old thing and he’d have to respond to it. Benny shook his head. “No, sir,” he said, before wondering why he felt the need to say “sir”.

“Then where you from? Originally, I mean.”

“I’m from…” Benny thought for a moment about how much he should say. “Virginia,” he said. He paused, before something compelled him to say more to the Arcanine. “Purcellville,” he continued. “That’s where I grew up. It’s in Loudoun County. I moved down here to get a job in tech.”

The Arcanine gave an appreciative little whistle. “Loudoun County,” he repeated. “That’s a nice place, ain’t it? Real nice.”

Benny wanted to ask what the fuck the massive Arcanine was trying to do to him, but he just nodded. “Yeah, it’s a nice place,” he said, before trailing off. He hoped the conversation would die there, but after a moment it started back up again.

“What’s your name, boy?”

Benny gulped again. He wanted to reply that, whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t “boy”, but he had the feeling that that would end with him shoved down that stainless steel toilet ‘til he had to dig his way to freedom. So he just replied, meekly, “Benny Pollard”, looking up at the smiling titan.

“Benny?” The Arcanine gave that friendly chuckle again, the kind that made the fox feel like there was an earthquake in his chest. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Benny.” He stood up from the bed, moving to stand in front of him and looking down at him with a widening grin spreading across his face.

“My name’s Raymond Jasper Hutchinson,” he said, his voice dropping down to a sly, teasing baritone. “But you can just call me ‘sir’ while you’re in here. How’s that sound, boy?” He crossed his arms over his huge chest and smiled.

Benny felt like he was going to faint. There was no mistaking the tone of Raymond’s voice--whatever it was that was going to happen in this cell, it was going to be great fun for the titanic Arcanine and no fun at all for the fox. And yet, he couldn’t help but feel a queasy sort of anticipation at the idea of calling someone so domineering, so clearly above him, his proper title. And so Benny swallowed and nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Now there’s a good boy,” Raymond said, the easy Southern charm coming back to his voice. “Already learning your place, ain’t you?” The Arcanine beckoned Benny with a finger. “Now, why don’t you get up and take those clothes off? I bet you don’t want those orange rags hangin’ off you the whole time, do ya?”

The horror that Benny felt at being made to take his clothes off for the pleasure of some convict playing mind games with him was overwhelmed by the quiet agreement he felt. He did want to take his clothes off, no matter what his dignity was screaming at him. Benny stood up off of the bed, going into the middle of the cell with Raymond, looking through the bars to make sure no one was watching.

“It’s alright, boy,” Raymond said, as though he could read Benny’s mind. “No one’s payin’ attention, and the guards wouldn’t notice if a bomb went off in here.” Satisfied, Benny set to work taking off those baggy orange prison clothes, depositing them to the side in a formless heap. He stood there, wearing nothing but a cream-colored pair of briefs, watching the huge Arcanine and waiting for what happened next.

“Now,” Raymond said, moving his hands to his own clothes to take them off, “you’re gonna lay on the ground for me, facing up. Got it?” It didn’t matter if Benny got it or not; almost as soon as the order left the Arcanine’s lips, the fox went down onto the hard, cold concrete floor and lay there on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Alright, now,” Raymond said, with a nod, as he deposited his own clothes in the corner. The Arcanine stood clad in nothing but a tight jockstrap, looking down at Benny with that worrying glimmer in his eye. But Benny didn’t notice that.

All he noticed was Raymond’s body, and he was rendered speechless at the sight. Without clothes, he was even more imposing, standing over the fox like some sort of colossus who could just as easily destroy him as he could brush his teeth. His biceps were thick and beefy, and he idly flexed them just to show them off to his awestruck cellmate. Raymond’s chest was just as impressive, his hairy moobs equal parts firm muscle and wobbly fat. That was to say nothing of his belly, which was round and inviting looking and yet was hard enough to break your fist if you punched it. His bulge was fat and sweaty in his jock, and Benny could make out the outline of his cock tip as he traced its journey from the Arcanine’s package to resting against one of those tree-trunk thighs. Benny felt a heat down below, and he tried his hardest to think of Olivia as Raymond just laughed.

“Excited, huh?” he said, as he sauntered closer to the fox. “You know you’re only here for a day, right? You don’t have to go gay for the stay.” Raymond chuckled. “Unless you’re just hungry for a real man. Guess that’d make sense.” Benny gave a needy little moan and a twitch of his pelvis, which Raymond just ignored.

“I’ll have fun with ya, sure,” the Arcanine continued. “But it’s my kind of fun.” That grin again, big and white and enough to make Benny melt. “You know what’s my kind of fun?” He tilted his head, as though waiting for an answer.

“No, sir. W-what’s your kind of fun?” Benny squirmed, already blushing, before Raymond decided to show him.

The Arcanine stood next to the fox, the tips of his toes almost grazing Benny’s side from how close he was. With another grin and an almost reverent sense of occasion, Raymond lifted his right foot. Benny looked at it, saw its position, and knew exactly what was going to happen. His eyes went wide.

“No, wait, I-GRRRRRGH!”

He was cut off when the musclegutted Arcanine pressed his foot down on the fox’s stomach and shifted his weight. Raymond was starting off fairly gentle, all things considered, but Benny was not big enough or built enough to comfortably take the kind of weight that his cellmate was subjecting himself to. It felt like a brick had been laid down on his stomach, and Benny was already gasping and grunting from pain--and that was before Raymond used his other foot.

“Mmmmm? Whatcha tryin’ to say, boy?” Raymond grinned down at the wheezing fox, his huge left foot pressed right up near Benny’s side, threatening to lift and come down any second now. “I don’t think I can hear you too good like this, so I guess ya have to speak up. G’wan.”

“Ghhhhhfff oooooooghf…” Benny coughed and thrashed about on the concrete floor of the cell, his hands occasionally coming up to grab at Raymond’s ankle before a glare from the Arcanine reminded Benny that this was a prisoner he was dealing with. Benny grit his teeth, eyes scrunched shut, trying desperately to get just a little bit of wiggle room. He almost didn’t notice when Raymond’s left foot came up.

“AUUUGH!”

The domineering Arcanine just laughed, looking down at the gasping, frightened fox as he kept himself in position. His right foot remained pressed down on Benny’s belly, pinning him firmly into place and making his stomach feel like it was being squeezed like a stress ball. His left foot, meanwhile, set to work on the fox’s chest, kneading and grinding against Benny’s ribcage and making the poor thing’s eyes bug out and tongue loll out in pain and panic.

“Christ, will ya just settle down?” Raymond shook his head, grinning that genial grin. “I ain’t even goin’ that hard, kid. You should see some o’ the other guys I’ve done this to. Bigger than you, and they came away lookin’ like one big bruise.” He pressed his weight forward, milking another strangled cry from Benny. “‘Course, that was before prison,” he continued. “I’ve lost some weight since then, so maybe it’s even a little easier than you think! Ain’t you lucky?”

Benny did not feel lucky beneath Raymond’s feet. He didn’t know how much the Arcanine weighed--based on the man’s sheer size and height, it had to be north of 300 pounds, maybe even 350. He didn’t even know why he was being made to suffer like this, and he certainly didn’t know why none of the guards or prisoners didn’t even seem to notice anything that was happening. All he knew was that it felt like someone dropped a bowling ball on his belly, and that he was about to find out what it was like to crack a rib. His cries turned strangled and strained as he thrashed about, helpless beneath the might of his cellmate.

Right when it seemed like something was about to break, Raymond’s foot lifted off of his chest, and Benny gasped and threw his head back to savor the feeling. But it was short-lived; while Raymond’s left foot was off of his ribs, his right foot was quick to replace it. And, as Benny squeaked out from the crushing sensation starting anew, he was distracted by the sight of the Arcanine’s size-15 sole coming down right over his choking, sweating, cross-eyed face.

“MMF!” Benny tried to make a noise much louder and more drawn-out than that, but Raymond’s foot was so big and smothering that any sounds he tried to make were swallowed up by that soft, furry sole. Never mind the pain of having the massive Arcanine lean forward and press his weight down on his face--Benny couldn’t even breathe, and even if he could it would be filled with the sharp, powerful scent of a prisoner who seemed to relish in using his body to torment people.

The Arcanine’s rich, buttery Southern drawl was barely audible to the fox beneath that mighty foot, but Benny could make out the gist of what he was saying. “You sure you doin’ OK under there, little guy?” Raymond said with a smirk, rocking back and forth and shifting his weight from Benny’s face to his ribs and back again. “I know this ain’t the easiest thing in the world to take. If you’re havin’ trouble breathin’, or if you think you want a break, just say so. How’s that sound?”

Benny knew that this was just the Arcanine toying with him, but something was better than nothing. “GHHHHRRRRRRMMMPH!” He shouted out as loud as he could with that heavy smothering foot on his face, wriggling like a fish beneath Raymond’s weight.

“Mmmm? Couldn’t hear ya. What did you say?” That damn chuckle again. Benny went cross-eyed with anger, but tried again anyway.

“MMMMMMMF!” He pulled at Raymond’s ankle, whining and groaning and whimpering, only for the Arcanine to smile.

“Y’ain’t gotta be shy ‘round me, y’know,” Raymond said. “Say that one more time?” He leaned his head down, cupping a hand around his ear as though trying to pick up on something very faint.

Benny was about to shriek his lungs out beneath that crushing foot when Raymond, evidently growing bored of teasing him like that, stepped off of him, smirking as he watched the fox fold over. He wasn’t sure whether he needed to grab his face, his ribs or his belly first, so he settled for curling up into a ball, hyperventilating and choking and wheezing in pain from the ordeal.

“There you go,” Raymond said, and Benny silently cursed himself for finding his cellmate’s voice as reassuring as he did. “Just rest for a minute or so, and I’ll get right on with it.”

Benny felt like he could be sick. “On with…” He coughed, lightheaded. “On with what?” he croaked. He wanted to ask “on with what, you sadistic fucking bastard?”, but he was angry, not suicidal.

Raymond just stood over him, the huge, jockstrap-clad Arcanine watching the fox with curiosity as Benny continued his efforts to catch his breath. It almost seemed like he was waiting for something to happen--and indeed, when Benny rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, that was exactly what was going on.

“OOF!”

At the very least, he wasn’t bearing down with his full weight this time around. Raymond was lowered into a squat, his massive, jock-framed ass pressed gently against Benny’s chest (about as gently as Raymond could do anything, at least). It wasn’t firm enough that Benny couldn’t wriggle around, but it was firm enough that both of them knew the fox wasn’t about to go anywhere.

“I just wanna congratulate ya,” Raymond said, giving the sort of smile that you’d expect from a guy who sold you a particularly nice tractor at a decent price rather than a prisoner who was kneading Benny like an uncooperative ball of dough. “Not everyone can take my weight like that, ‘specially not when I was right in your face like I was. Might surprise ya, but compared to some of th’ others you took it like a champ. That’s good on ya.” Benny grunted and squirmed beneath Raymond, but he felt an odd blush come to his face from the praise he received.

“But you still ain’t done yet, boy,” Raymond continued, the big Arcanine crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve still got some other stuff to take care of.”

Benny blinked. “Other...stuff?” He hoped that this wasn’t going where he thought it was going--it was bad enough to have the heavy Arcanine sitting on his chest, but he would rather ten Raymonds crushing him than getting someone’s dick in his mouth. He was busy preparing himself for this eventuality when he felt the weight on his chest lift, letting him take some more deep breaths…

...only to have that breath catch in his throat once he saw what was hovering over him.

Raymond’s huge, fat, jiggly musclebutt, all orange and black and ripe with sweat, loomed over the fox’s face like some alien mothership about to descend and swallow him up. It was the kind of thick rear that can only develop through a strong workout routine and a healthy appetite, that perfect mixture of toned muscle and plush, wobbly fat that you could sink your fingers into.

Benny didn’t want to sink his fingers into it; lucky for him, he didn’t have to. Unluckily for him, it was going someplace else, whether he liked it or not.

“Theeeeere we go!” Raymond said, with a sigh, as he silenced the panicked whines and complaints from the fox by lowering his hips and sitting on Benny’s face. “Y’know, it feels good to just kick back and relax after a long day, don’t it? ‘Specially when you’ve got such a comfy seat under ya.” He kicked his feet out, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Phew! Hope you’re comfy, too.”

Benny would have answered that it was impossible to be comfortable pressed between a concrete floor and a massive Arcanine ass, but that would have entailed opening his mouth and taking breaths, and considering how hot and sweaty Raymond’s ass crack was those were two risks he didn’t want to take. He brought his hands over to those huge glutes, pushing his hands up against the beefy cheeks to try and budge them, but even as he did so he knew it was futile. Raymond wasn’t about to get up anytime soon.

“Now, I don’t know if you can hear me, bein’ crushed under my fat ass and everythin’,” Raymond said, as calm and easy as though he was sitting by a peaceful creek, “but if you can I want you to do somethin’ for me. Think you can manage that, boy?” Benny knew that his current position meant there were only so many things he could do, and that chances were good that he wouldn’t like any of them. Still, Raymond could feel the fox’s head nod, getting his face even deeper into that crack.

“I want you to take that mouth of yours,” the Arcanine said, “and I want ya to pucker up and give my hole a nice wet kiss. Really get into it like y’mean it.” Raymond reached his hands back, peeling those huge hams apart and exposing that ass crack to the fox.

Benny stared at the hole, and it felt like the hole was staring back. That tight, puckered little star twitched and pulsed as it was exposed to the air, pink and surprisingly clean considering the fact that Raymond was in prison. Benny had had nightmares about this sort of thing before--hell, he didn’t even eat Olivia’s ass when she asked him to and it was her birthday. He broke into a cold sweat, matting Raymond’s ass fur as the Arcanine looked over his shoulder. He seemed impatient.

“Well? I ain’t got all day, pretty boy. Are you gonna kiss my asshole or not?” He pushed those cheeks together, then spread them apart, then pushed them together again, idly, as though he was just keeping his hands busy as he waited for Benny to bite the bullet and do what was asked of him.

Benny silently weighed the pros and cons, with the queasy practicality of someone trying to pick their method of execution. Did he want to kiss Raymond’s asshole? Well, if he did, he’d end up making some future therapist very rich indeed. But did he want to be crushed underneath the bullying butt of a smug prisoner? Did he want to shuffle off this mortal coil under the grinding hips of a musclegutted Arcanine from rural North Carolina? Is that what he wanted on his gravestone? Would there even be enough to bury by the time Raymond would be through with him? Would Raymond really kill Benny? Probably not, but did Benny really want to risk it?

“I’m gonna give you ten seconds, boy,” Raymond said, with a steely tone that he hadn’t spoken with thus far. Benny didn’t make him wait.

He puckered his lips, shut his eyes, held his breath. He leaned forward, burying his face as deep into Raymond’s ass crack as it could go, going forward, forward, forward until he felt his lips make purchase on that sweaty, hairy hole. He held it there for a moment, and for the first time that day he heard Raymond moan with lewd, hungry pleasure.

When his twenty-four hours in Merrill County Jail was through, Benny made sure he didn’t kiss Olivia on the lips.