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Possum Prison Pussy

Part 1: Testing the Merchandise

“Emmanuel Silva?" The clerk behind the desk asked. He was an old badger, his hair salt and pepper, his beard a shade darker and a reflection of his younger years.

“Y-Yes," Silva responded, his eyes downcast.

The badger pulled down his reading glasses to look at the boy before him.

“Oh yeah, the young blood," the badger clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Always a shame when you youngin's cross my counter. Throwing your life away before it even begins."

“The judge already passed judgement on me," Silva muttered. “I don't need you to do it too."

“Oh? The little opossum boy wants to talk back?" The badger chuckled and scribbled something on his clip board. “That lip is probably what got you here in the first place, innit?"

“Are you going to process me or not?"

“Just making sure everything is accurate here," the badger muttered as he checked off a few boxes. “Eighteen, five foot seven, and…what's an Algiz chromosome? This is a man's prison."

“It means I'm a cunt boy sir," Silva gave him a sly grin and kissed the air.

“Oh, they'll love you in the pen," the badger smiled balefully.

“What do you mean by that?" Sylva cocked a brow.

The badger just pressed a button. A loud buzzer rang and the door next to Sylva popped open. “Officer Crux will take you from here."

A large zebra guard came through, his officer uniform pristine and straining over the muscles hidden behind its fabric.

“This way, young blood," officer Crux ordered. The opossum gave the badger one last glare before moving onward.

“Whatever," Sylva muttered and padded his way into the next room. Another loud buzz followed as the door was closed behind them. They quickly went into a side room. It was an examination room just like any regular doctor's office.

“Remove all clothing, piercings, wigs, whatever," Crux handed Sylva a plastic bin.

“I can't have my piercings? They'll close up if I don't keep them in." Sylva was going to complain more when Crux gripped onto the box and shoved it harder into his chest.

“Then they fucking close up," Crux practically growled. “It's for your safety. No slut shrapnel allowed. Nothing that could be used to harm or torture."

“How the hell would my studs be used for-" Sylva was cut off as the Zebra's thick fingers gripped onto one of his ears and pulled him closer, the sting of his earring digging into his skin forced him forward.

“Now, imagine if I didn't pull so gently," Crux put the image into his head with the only way that would get through to Sylva.

“Dude! Let go of me!" Sylva shouted. Crux just pulled his ear harder, the sting of that metal magnifying before he let go. Sylva backed away quickly.

“The piercings come off," he growled.

“Gezz, I get it," Sylva cupped his ear, the lobe trickling blood. “Fuck, I'm bleeding."

“You'll live," Crux spat, that response locked and loaded. “Now, strip."

“Dude, I'm not gunna get naked in front of you," Sylva pulled the shallow plastic tub closer to himself, hugging it for protection.

“I could always remove your clothes myself," Crux sneered, crossing his arms. How did that make him look bigger? “You lost your right to privacy when you broke the law. Now start disrobing or I'll do it for you."

Sylva stood there, his eyes narrowing, his brow knit. The zebra was easily much larger than him, most men where to be honest, but that didn't make Sylva any less scrappy when it came down to it. Only, Sylva was much more bluster than brute. Cruz huffed and uncrossed his arms. That's all it took for Sylva to fold.

“Okay, shit! I'll do it," Sylva put a hand up defensively and backed up into the examination table.

“Then do it quicker," Crux snapped.

“Whatever," Sylva muttered and turned away from Crux. He didn't want to see him. At least he could pretend he was alone…apart from the guard's even breathing. Sylva pulled up his tank top, the black fabric was skintight and showed off his slender form. His midriff had been exposed before to show his belly ring. He took a deep breath before pulling down his sweatpants quickly, exposing the opossum's round bubble butt. Those two cheeks were the envy of every woman he had ever known. He was in nothing but a pair of torn black panties that got sucked up between those plump cheeks.

Crux huffed as the rodent exposed his ass, giving a little nicker.

“Could you not perve on my body while I do this?"

“I'm huffing because you're too slow," Crux lied. He pulled some major strings to be the one to process Sylva. He wanted to be sure the rumors were true. “Pick up the pace and get the lead out. Specifically the lead in your face."

“I get it," Sylva rolled his eyes. “Piercings are next."

“There's a mirror over there if you think it'll move this along any quicker," Cruz nodded to a small wash station with a sink, mirror, and open shower.

Sylva just padded over to the mirror and took out his piercings. He had several earrings and studs. He undid them one at a time, his perfect nail claws gripping and unclipping those rings and plopping them into the plastic bin. He pulled the belly ring out and crossed his arms before looking back at the guard.

“What now?" Sylva spat.

“Panties too you dipshit," Crux rolled his eyes.

“What?" Sylva turned as though he were trying to shield his body from the guard.

“You still have to shower, get any spray on dies you have out, and then a cavity search."

“A what?!"

“Calm down kid," Crux huffed, his tail tied up behind him flicking back and forth. “We bring a doctor in for that. I'm just here to make sure you don't do anything stupid."

“S-Stupid?"

“Yeah, stupid. Like waste my fucking time. Panties, bin, now." Crux huffed forcefully.

Sylva shivered in disgust. He had never been naked in front of another man before…at least not like this. He was usually given special treatment and had a private stall. He bit his lip in frustration and hooked his thumbs into his panties and pulled them off, throwing them at the bin and missing. The torn fabric fell on the ground and skidded to a stop at Crux's boots.

“Good," Crux huffed his approval. “Now get in the shower, and wash up."

“But…there's no curtain."

“What did I say about privacy and wasting my time?"

Sylva didn't want to have a repeat of his previous experience with his earring. So, he just turned away and went to the shower. It was an old shower. Two knobs instead of one, and a shitty cone shaped spout for the head. A bar of soap was on the sink. He grabbed it and went into the shower.

The water never really got warm. The heat was probably hooked on a pretty tight restrictor to make sure people just cleaned as quickly as they could and make them want to put on the shitty scrubs they were assigned for warmth.

Sylva cleaned himself quickly, the icy water drizzling over his crouching form. The fur on his body matting down to reveal the soft curves of his body, the delicate form that he was so graciously given by genetics. He gritted his teeth and let his tears come out in the water, hiding them in the stream of cold rivulets and suds. Sylva had purple spray die in his hair that quickly washed out, his black locks instantly deflating without their gel. His muddled fur was a beautiful mix of whites and blacks that made him look like he was wearing fingerless gloves and leggings. His fingers were turning pink from the cold water, his feet were like a primate's where they were another set of hands with apposable thumbs. His long and furless tail twitching nervously as he cleaned himself off.

He finished and came out. He grabbed a towel from a bin and dried himself off. The fabric was itchy and reeked of bleach.

“Okay," someone new said. Sylva was so focused on ignoring Crux in the room that he didn't even notice the newcomer. It was an albino rat in a lab coat. “Let's get this over quickly, shall we?" The rat smiled warmly, but there was something else behind that smile. Inquisitiveness?

“What?" Sylva asked.

“Your cavity search, we'll make it quick," the rat said and patted for Sylva to get up on the examination table. Sylva didn't know what else to do so he threw the towel in another bin and sat down.

The rat was quite nice and he did an easy cavity search. Without any stirrups for Sylva to rest his feet up, he just lifted them for the doctor. This wasn't the first time Sylva had a gynecologist tool in his cunt, but it was the first time a man was doing it. He was a little rough and he didn't know exactly what he was doing, but he saw there was nothing in there.

“Okay, it's empty, now get that thing out of me," Sylva grunted.

“Of course, of course," the Rat turned and nodded to Crux before retrieving his equipment. The zebra nodded back. “I'll have your medication sent to your cell."

“Medication?"

“It says here you were on birth control, isn't that right?" The rat smiled warmly.

“Oh, yeah…to keep my periods mild."

“Good, Crux, you can take him," the rat scribbled a few things down and left.

“Get dressed," Crux ordered. “We're headed for your cell quarters while the rest of the mates are in the yard."

***

Sylva had never felt more violated in his life. It made walking by the yard seem tame even with how many men whistled and called him fresh meat. His scrubs were a powdery blue and that made him look boxy. They wrinkled in odd places as they tried to find purchase somewhere on him. The boxers he had were extremely spacious and he felt like he had a wad of fabric pushed up against his cunt all the time. He just slouched and hugged himself as he was escorted to his cell.

It was a separate building opposite the main hub. He was brought in, the floors concrete and cold, the metal bars and everything painted white.

“Here," Crux stopped by an empty cell. It was a bunk bed with a shallow mattress, white sheets, and a couple ratty green blankets.

“You'll be sharing a room with Lawrence," Crux ordered. “Looks like he has the bottom bunk. Probably best for the bag of bones. He won't give you any trouble, but keep your head down and speak only when spoken too."

“Yeah, I get it," Sylva sighed and padded into his cell. Crux just huffed and shook his head.

“Yeah, they'll eat you alive," Crux commented. Sylva felt a shiver go down his spine at that comment.

“I can handle myself," Sylva muttered.

“Yeah, and look where that got ya," Crux shot back and closed the cell door behind him. The latching of that door cell made everything come into focus. His mind finally caught up with reality; this was really happening to him, he was really in jail…he really…really fucked up.

Crux whistled a tune as he walked away, his boots scraping against the concrete. Sylva just bit his lip and let his warm tears roll down his face as he curled up in a corner. It was cold, it was dark, and it was full of dust and hair, but he didn't care. It felt like the safest place to cry. He took deep breaths and let them out slowly. Despite his best efforts, his light sobs echoed down the halls. He just hoped no one would hear him.

A loud buzz caught Sylva off guard as his cell doors swung open. The sound of shuffling feet and shouting started to fill the cell block. Sylva didn't know how long he was crying, but he felt like he got enough out. He cleared up his tears and stood up. He crossed his legs and arms as he leaned against the corner of his cell and looked out the window. He couldn't show fear or weakness.

“Oh, you must be my new bunkie," a withering voice came into his cell.

“Yeah…I…this is my cell," Sylva managed to say clearly. He didn't look down at his new mate.

“Come now, kid," the old man chuckled. “No need to act tough around me. You may be a pretty boy, but you'll look like a true institution man standing next to me."

“I don't need your help," Sylva breathed, still refusing to look down.

“I never intended to offer it, ya dirty street trash," the old man's voice was more joking than pointed. “Though, fresh meat like you might be able to learn a thing or two from someone who's been around the yard a few times."

“I can handle myself," Sylva huffed.

“Oh, I'm sure you can," the old man's chuckle was accompanied by the squeaking of his bunk as he sat down in it. “Just like you handled yourself right into this box where I'm at. Huh?"

“Shut up," Sylva bit his lip, fighting back tears.

“You can't spend your sentence staring out the window the whole time," the elder spoke. “You'll have to eventually look at me."

“No, I don't have to," Sylva was pouting, anything to make himself feel a sense of control.

“Listen kid," the old man started. “You can spend your time here either pouting, or you can learn something. All we have is time in here. You can spend it trying to figure out something to be once you get out of here, or you can be stubborn and brood. That's your business. Just do it quietly if you decide to pout."

“Fine," Sylva spat out.

“Oh, they'll have a lot of fun with you."

That's all the old man said. The only sound was the echoing of other inmates throughout the block. Sylva found some peace just looking out of the window. The only thing breaking the monotony of the blue sky were the brushes of white clouds.

“Yo! Lawrence! My man!" An inmate shouted as he came to their cell. Sylva practically jumped as he was pulled back into his mind. A toucan was there, is black feathers shimmering and his long beak pulled into a cocky grin.

“Ah, Fruit-Loop!" The old man smiled and hopped off his bed. He was a pangolin! The old man, who must be Lawrence, had old weathered scales and plating. He couldn't have been more than four feet tall and his hands were always in a timid position where the long claw tips would click together as he walked.

“Yeah, my man, My MAN!" The toucan shouted. “I'm telling you, that you're gunna hate me. The house ain't winnin' dat bet I made."

“Oh, did you manage to beat String-Been on the court? I stopped watching after he scored three on you."

“You should have stayed," the toucan gave a sly smirk. He was a young man, easily in his mid-twenties. His body was tight and fit. “I smoked him in the last half of the game and won with a three point shot! Ho yeah brother! Smoked him good."

“You spittin' lies, jail bird?" A meerkat of similar build as the toucan came up and pointed one of his claws at the underside of that bill. “You know I had more points when the buzzer went off."

“You callin' me a liar, fool!" Fruit-Loop spat back.

“Yeah, I is callin' you a liar! I won that game, bitch!"

“We all know the game keeps going if the ball is in the air before the buzzer goes off."

“Shut yo damn mouth! You know you didn't throw no ball until after the buzzer started. The game was over before you threw that half-court bullshit!"

“Boys," Lawrence nodded at them and waved his hands to calm them down. “I can make some inquiries around the yard. A couple of my associates will confirm who won and I'll get back to you."

“Oh fuck this noise," Fruit-Loop squawked. “I ain't gunna have no one vouch for me when I KNOW your associates are working with Magnus."

“I could call it a draw and have the house win," Lawrence smiled and shrugged.

“Man, forget it," Fruit-Loop sputtered. “Not like I need the money anyway. My baby's been sending me sweet gifts and shit. I don't need your dumbass crumbs."

“Backpedallin' much? You runnin' scared 'cuz you know I won?" The meerkat named String-Bean spat.

“Fuck you Stringy!" The toucan flipped the meerkat the bird. “I ain't gunna make an enemy out of Magnus over a stupid bet – who is that fine slab of meat?" Fruit-Loop paused mid-sentence and his eyes glanced over at Sylva.

“Just my new Bunkie," Lawrence waved his concerns off with one hand and adjusted his glasses with the other. “A true gem and conservationist."

“Ain't talk much, huh?" The toucan confirmed. “Yo, pretty boy, what's your name?"

Sylva froze and blushed. Fear gripped his heart as he realized he was being spoken too. It happened all so fast. He just turned and looked out the window without answering.

“Aww, he blushed," the toucan elbowed the meerkat and pointed at Sylva. “Look at his cheeks."

“Oh, I've been lookin'," String-Bean bit his lips and bounced his brows. “Yo, Cheeks, what ya in for."

Fuck…even without saying anything he was given such a shitty nickname.

“My name is Emmanuel," Sylva blurted out a bit quickly.

“Ah, nah, we're past that, Cheeks," Fruit-Loop stepped past Lawrence and came into the cell. Sylva's face flushed red. “What ya in for?"

“S-Seven years," Sylva answered.

“Na, what ya in for," String-Bean also passed by Lawrence despite his timid protests and the two effectively formed a wall around Sylva, trapping him in his corner. “What did ya do to get the seven years, Cheeks? That ain't no light sentence neither."

“Nah, not a light sentence," Fruit-Loop agreed. “Had to have done something pretty bad to convict someone this young."

“How old are ya Cheeks?" String-Bean asked.

“Yeah, how old are ya?" Fruit-Loop pried.

“I-I'm e-e-eighteen," Sylva managed to stammer out.

“Eighteen? Fuck, what ya do, kill the mayor or some shit?" The toucan chuckled.

“Nah, ya Loop!" String-Bean smacked the toucan upside the head, but not hard, more jokingly. “Stutter over here said e-e-eighteen."

The two started to laugh, but suddenly they paused and looked down. There were a couple of long claws on their hips.

“Gentlemen, do you remember the last time someone came in my cell without permission?"

“Oh, sorry Law," the toucan apologized and scratched the back of his head. “I wasn't really entering your cell, I was entering Cheeks' cell, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

“Yeah," the meerkat did the same thing as he started to make his way around Lawrence to get out of the cell. “We weren't trying to mess nothin' up or anythin'."

“Yeah, nothin'," Fruit-Loop followed String-Bean out of the cell.

“I'll overlook it," Lawrence affirmed. “Just leave now and I'll mark down String here as the winner."

“Fuck man," the toucan slapped his forehead and groaned. “I forgot."

“Yo' half court was a killer move, but too little too late, suckuh!" String-Bean basically mocked the toucan all the way to their respective cells.

Sylva collapsed, hiding his face in his hands as he hid behind their bunks. Tears streamed down his face as he felt relief and fear all at the same time. Was this his life now for the next seven years? Just hiding and cowering, hoping he doesn't get killed or say the wrong thing.

“You okay, kid?" Lawrence asked.

“I'm fine," Sylva snapped. He wasn't convincing at all. He just fought back a sob and pulled knees closer to himself.

“No, you're not," Lawrence was standing just in front of him. Sylva sniffed and looked up. The old man was there, his worn old scales faded in color and covered in scars and scrapes. Between his claws though, was tissue paper. Sylva snatched it and covered his nose while trying not to cry.

“It's okay, kid. They all cry their first night," Lawrence reassured him.

“They…they do?"

“All of them your age anyway," Lawrence smiled. “There were a few that didn't, but those were the ones who got the chair. They ain't here no more. So don't worry, Cheeks. You'll do just fine."

“I-" Sylva took in a shaky breath and blew his nose. “I don't want to be named, Cheeks."

“Well, too late for that," Lawrence shook his head. “It's either that or Stutter."

“I…I don't know which is worse." Sylva sighed, having gotten the fear out of him.

“Well Emmanuel, it's up to you as to which one sticks now."

“Why do…why do they call you Lawrence? Can't they call me by my first name too?"

“They call me Lawrence because of a very specific reason," Lawrence pulled out a book from under his mattress. “It's because they can't say my nickname out loud, lest the guards hear."

“What's your nickname?" Sylva felt a tinge of fear.

“Nothing special, got the name long ago and I kind of fell into the roll," Lawrence started to scribble something in the book. It was a ledger with fancy handwriting and hundreds of dollars in bets from across the facility.

“They call me Bookie," Lawrence scratched out Fruit-Loop's name and circled String-Bean's.

***

The rest of that day was fairly uneventful. Lawrence invited Sylva to sit with him during dinner. He didn't eat much. They then had some free time about the block to socialize with strict supervision, then it was lights out. Just as the doctor said, they had his medication sent to his cell and Sylva was able to start his new routine of brushing, taking his pill, and going to bed.

Sylva didn't sleep. He was too wired, and, though he wouldn't admit it, he was scared. He could scarcely keep his bunk from shaking. The sound of snoring and sleep talking fluttered through the cell block, and every sound kept him awake. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep. He was cold, his cell was drafty, the blanket did nothing to keep him warm, and everyone was snoring so fucking loud!

Several loud bangs came across his cell.

“Sylva?! Emmanuel Sylva?!"

Groans and cries came from the other cells of the block, cursing his name as this guard shouted for him.

“Y-Yes!" Sylva sat up in his bunk, his head almost smacking the ceiling.

“You're coming with me," the guard smiled, the red low lights glinting off his white stripes. It was Crux.

Sylva ignored the screams of the other inmates as he hopped out of his bed.

“Where are we going?"

“Don't ask questions," Crux ordered. “Hurry along. You're interrupting lights out, and you don't want to keep everyone awake."

The dark light glinted in Crux's eyes. A deep sense of dread filled Sylva and he took a step back.

“Do I need to beat some sense into you boy?" Crux huffed, brandishing his nightstick and smacking it in his palm.

“Just do as he says, kid," Lawrence roused from his sleep. “It's for everyone's best interest."

“Shut up you old fart," Crux spat. “Now, do I need to call backup and drag you out of your cell, or are you gunna put your shoes on and obey." Sylva shivered and looked over at Lawrence. The pangolin had already turned over in his bunk, his tail twitching over the edge. Sylva somehow felt calmer. He was leaving and Crux closed their cell when he heard Lawrence mutter something.

“Be on your best behavior."

With that, Crux grabbed him by the arm and guided him out of the cell block.

***

Crux took Sylva from his cell block and out into the cold night air. He was already shivering and now his fingers and toes were starting to burn. He huffed into his palms to warm them, his breath catching fog as he did so. The moon was gone and there were no stars. It was dark, cold, and quiet. The sound of trees rustling in the wind filled the air as Crux brought them to another building, swiped his card, and ushered Sylva inside.

“Now, don't fuck this up kid," Crux whispered into his ear harshly as they walked, the tall zebra having to lean down low to speak directly into his ear. “Speak when spoken to. Don't lie, only tell the truth, even if it's embarrassing. Most of all, be respectful."

“What? Are you taking me to see the warden?" Sylva furrowed a brow. Crux chuckled.

“The warden? Here? After lights-out? That's rich. Nah, but he might as well be."

“What do you mean by that?"

“Just get in the cell, shoes off," Crux opened a door and walked them in. It didn't look like a cell, at least not the one he had anyway. It looked like a motel room. There was a twin sized bed with navy blue sheets, the floor was cement, but there were a few area rugs covering it up. A desk with various books and newspapers, a closet near the door with a mirror, and a mini fridge. There was even a personal bathroom. Compared to the shithole he was just in, this was a penthouse. Though, the most impressive thing wasn't the room. It was who it housed.

Lounging on the bed was a beast of a man. He was an elephant, easily eight feet tall, and built like a brickhouse. He currently had a book in one of his hands, his massive fingers making the thing look like a pocketbook for children. His forearms had a thick rug of hair, his chest a forest of black that rolled over his massive pecs and solid gut only to vanish into his scrubs. The space between his pecs had started to turn gray, showing his years. His hair was graying at his temples, but it was still thick and full with a nice buzz cut. He brought a cigar to his mouth, his supporting fingers brushing the shadow of stubble on his chin, and took a deep drag. He exhaled through his trunk, a plume of smoke rolling out of it, then he used it to turn a page of his book.

“Magnus, Tyson Magnus," Crux said with a bit of respect that sent a shiver of fear down Sylva's spine. “Got the kid for you."

“Leave him here. I'll be done in a second," Magnus continued reading and Crux pushed Sylva forward.

“Best behavior," Crux whispered to him before going back outside the unit. There was a jingling of keys and turning of tumblers. He was locked in.

“So, you're the one they're callin' Cheeks?" The elephant known as Magnus said.

“Y-Yes," Sylva felt a gripping fear, he was getting tense and his mouth was running dry.

“That was a rhetorical question," Magnus glanced away from his book to lock eyes with Sylva. “I know who you fucking are."

Sylva had never felt more fear in his life. He bit his lip to keep it from quivering, his toes curling, anything to shrink away. Those dark eyes were steely and cold. Sylva had never had a knife to his throat before, but that stare made him feel like he was pinned against a wall with a razor to his throat.

“How was your first day in the pen?" Magnus asked, a brow rising inquisitively as he continued to read. “That wasn't a rhetorical question. You can answer."

Sylva jumped at that. His body was frozen in fear, but he was able to find his voice.

“I…I was…um…it was okay," Sylva managed to squeak out. Magnus' permanent scowl grew deeper and Sylva's blood ran cold.

“I'm assuming the guard told you the rules. Did he forget to tell you that you shouldn't be spouting lies to me?"

“No…I um…yes he did, but…"

“So, why did you lie to me just now," Magnus asked as he continued to look at his book. “I'll ask you again. How was your first, fucking, day?"

“I hated it," Sylva felt the sting of tears threaten to break out of his eyes. “I…I hate it here so much…"

“There's the truth, that's a good girl," Magnus smirked and pulled something with his trunk from his side. He slapped it in his book to mark the page and snapped it shut. Sylva's blood ran colder, if that was even possible. His panties, those were his panties.

“You don't know how hot a commodity you are, Cheeks." Magnus shifted, his bed creaking and groaning under his weight. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his massive feet hitting the floor. “I've already heard whispers of your cute ass. You're the talk of the block. They say you're Bookies little bitch boy, but that doesn't sound like him. That old piece of shit is just a softy for the cute ones."

Magnus stood up, his imposing height becoming extremely real as his ears blocked out the sealing light and cast Sylva in Magnus' looming shadow. Sylva had never felt so small in his life.

“Here's the deal, Cheeks," Magnus took a step forward until Sylva was face to face with the top of that manly gut. It even exuded power, obliques coming into view before a healthy layer of fat hid the abdominals of that big guy. A thick mat of hair, dark and wiry, covered that strong core and chest. “There are lots of jailbirds talking about takin that biscuit and making you their bottom bitch."

Magnus lifted his hand and brushed the back of his fingers along Sylva's cheek. His rough knuckles brushing against the opossum's soft fur.

“No one really sees what kind of asset you are," Magnus smiled and leaned forward, his trunk going under the little punk's chin and forcing him to look up. Sylva let a single tear roll down his face and he cursed his mother for his own birth.

“Wh-What do you want?" Sylva managed to get the words out.

“Do you want protection?" Magnus answered Sylva's question with a question.

“Do I…want protection? Like…condoms?" Sylva was too green to really understand what Magnus was saying.

“Nah, not that pussyboy," Magnus leaned in further, taking a drag from his cigar. The glow of that smoldering stogie illuminating Sylva's face. “Do you want protection from the other men?" He emphasized this point by blowing smoke into his face through his trunk. Sylva became painfully aware of what he was offering.

“Do…Do I need it?"

“There are a few guys ready to jump you in the showers tomorrow," Magnus smiled, his teeth white and his tusks gleaming. “Figured you'd appreciate an offer before tha' happens. Now, you can roll the dice each time you leave your cell and hope that old fart keeps you safe, or you can work for me."

“Work for you?" Sylva asked. “What…what would I do?"

“Isn't it obvious?" Magnus smirked. “You're going to be my little bitch boi."

“What?" Sylva took a step back. “I…I don't want any trouble."

“Well, tough titties, Cheeks." Magnus took a step forward. “You've landed yourself in a whole heap of trouble. You think you'll last five minutes out there? You'll be torn apart before sundown without my help."

“No…I don't want to…no…" Sylva stepped back, but Magnus gripped him by the wrist. Sylva shouted in pain as that hand gripped hard. “You're crushing me! Let GO!"

Magnus didn't let go, if anything he gripped harder and lifted the opossum off the ground, his toes just scraping the floor.

“Listen here you fuck trash, you can either be my prison bitch, or you can hope someone else will treat you better. But, I'm lettin' you know; I fucking own this place. I'm your golden ticket out of that cell block dump, and you better take it, or I'll make your life a living hell. You thought today was bad? You'll wish for the days you could just cry in your cell."

“Please, stop, I'll…I'll do it," Sylva gasped.

“Good," Magnus turned and threw Sylva onto the bed. Sylva slammed down face first, the thick smell of cigars and musk assaulted him. He was about to push himself up, but he felt the sudden weight of Magnus. He was pinned by a massive hand on his back.

“What are you doing," Sylva tried to push back, but Magnus just pushed down harder.

“Do you even know what a bitch is, boy? I'm testing the merchandise. From what the doctor said, I need to break you in for the first time." Magnus grinned darkly and gripped the hem of his pants and pulled them down.

“Fuck! Stop! Get off me!"

Magnus ignored Sylva's pleas and grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced his face into the mattress. The possum screamed, his voice muffled into the musky sheets as Magnus pulled out his thick shaft. Sylva shrieked over and over, his drool dribbling into the mattress as tears streamed down his face, his arms flailing and legs kicking as he tried to get any purchase or leverage, but Magnus had him pinned. Then Sylva felt the hot flesh of something smack his back. Sylva screamed and struggled, his thrashing redoubled as he gripped Magnus's hand on his head and he tried to scratch. The elephant just chuckled. His species evolved fending off lions and crocs. A opossum's claws were little more than a nuisance.

“The more you fight, the harder I'll fuck, you dumb shit."

Sylva screamed and sobbed, his body shaking as he tried to scream for help. He only screamed out more when his scrubs were pulled down off his ass, his thick cheeks exposed and his tight pussy on display.

“Oh fuck yeah," Magnus rumbled. “That shit's tight." He took his cigar and held it with his trunk as he lowered his hand down to that pussy. He touched it and Sylva tried to thrash about, but Magnus was getting tired of it. He lifted Sylva's head out of the sheets and slammed it back down. It was hard enough that he felt the base board of the mattress.

“Quit your whinin' kid or I'll bring the guard in to keep you pinned. No one gives a shit about your screams here. No one can hear them. Besides," Magnus pulled his hand back and rubbed them against his thumb, the sweet youth of a pussy in need making them slick. “You appear to be enjoying it."

Sylva was very much NOT enjoying it, but his body wasn't going to deny this beast a deep rutting. Sylva was a kinky fucker at heart, he just never found the right guy to give it up to.

Magnus' cock grew hard, his massive uncut goliath of a dick dripping pre onto the opossum's scrubs on his back while the elephant reared back and lined it up.

“Been a long time since I've had pussy, let alone virgin pussy," Magnus' cock throbbed and spat some pre on that cunt, that massive slab of salami at least eighteen inches long. Sylva tried to cross his legs, to make it harder for Magnus to get in, but the elephant only took it as a challenge. He pressed forward, that pussy straining as he demanded entry.

“Please STOP! STOP! You're going to fucking bREAK ME!"

“If you stop fighting me so much, you might actually enjoy it, you dumb bitch."

“Please, I can't, it's too much…"

“Work with me, and maybe I'll won't have to slam into you to get it in. Ever think about that you dumb slut?"

“You…I can…just…just stop for a second."

Magnus stopped, and Sylva felt a sudden rush of relief. He knew this was going to happen, but at least now he had some sort of control. He couldn't fight Magnus, and he didn't want something like this to happen outside…

“Spread your legs," Magnus ordered. Sylva clenched his legs together, his feet hooking at the ankles.

“One second," Sylva gasped out panting, sniffing a little. “One second…" Sylva bit his bottom lip and slowly spread his legs, his shaking thighs spreading apart.

“That's a good girl," Magnus rumbled and lined his cock head up, the tip dripping pre like mad. “Spreadin' your legs there for your prison daddy."

Magnus griped the base of his cock and flicked the head between the opossum's lips, the cock head glazing with the honey of that pot he was about to break open. He pushed forward, this time, the head starting to spread that pussy.

“Oh fuck…stop…stop it's too-" Sylva was cut off as Magnus ripped his head back, gripping him by the hair.

“You tell me to stop, one more time, and I'm going to bash your skull against the wall. You feelin' me?"

“Yes," Sylva sobbed out.

Magnus paused for a moment before he continued to sink his dick into Sylva. That pussy parted and his foreskin rolled back. With a sudden slide of a few inches, his head slipped in.

“Oh shiiiiit," Magnus groaned. “Fuck, I've almost forgotten what a sweet pussy feels like."

Magnus rolled his hips forward, his dick sliding a bit further in before he felt some resistance, but it was quickly lost. Sylva gave a little pained gasp, the sound catching in his throat as his hymen was torn effortlessly by the man behind him.

“Fuck yes bitch, your cherry is mine. I'm gunna make sure I pop that shit permanently." He thrusted forward, his cock sliding in further. That sweet cunt slick and young, ready for a real man's dick. Magnus thrusted forward again, that pussy prying open as he sank in deeper. Sylva let out a scream as he was forced to take more, his bright red cherry dribbling out of his pussy as Magnus continued his test drive of his new product.

“Oh fuck yeah, you take dick like a whiny bitch, but we'll work you up into a proper whore." Magnus chuckled and started to pull back, spackles of Sylva's cherry dotting Magnus' big black dick before he shoved it back in.

“Please, I can't take it so rough," Magnus just shoved Sylva's head back into the sheets as he started to rock his hips. Over half of his monster cock sunken deep into that pussy raw. Each time he pulled out it was glazed in Sylva's sweet young honey. A nice tight pussy he could finally bust in. He wasn't going to break him, but he sure as fuck wasn't going to be gentle about it.

“I'll fuck you however the fuck I want, skank," Magnus spat on the opossum's back, the cigar tainting the spit a darker hue.

“Please! It's too much!"

“Then spread your fucking legs and arch your back! If you keep fighting me it's only gunna get worse." Magnus smirked and took a drag on his cigar as he continued to plow his new property. Sylva's ass cheeks jiggling and bouncing on that dick as he thrusted into that tight cunt.

Sylva did as he was told and he did feel some of the pain subside, only for Magnus to sink in a few more inches, locking him into his position.

“Oh fuck yeah! Such a good girl for daddy. You deserve a treat," Magnus chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming as he took in a deep drag of his cigar. “Open your mouth."

Sylva obeyed, it would only be better for him if he did. Magnus liked this, the kid was learning fast. Magnus took his trunk and sunk it into Sylva's open maw. Sylva thought he was supposed to suck on it like he would a dick. That's something he actually knew how to do, but a thick plume of Cuban smoke was forced down his throat as Magnus let out his long drag into his opossum bitch. Sylva choked, his throat gagging on that trunk, the potent flavor making him feel like he was licking an ash tray. Smoak billowed out of his maw and nose as Magnus never slowed his thrusting. The coughing and gagging actually made the little prick tense up, making that delicious tightness even sweeter.

Sylva felt violated and dirty…but…he didn't hate it? As a matter of fact, despite the pain and abuse, he felt a tingling building deep in his abdomen, a tingling that was making his thighs shake and toes curl. The actual outline of that elephant cock visibly plunged in and raked his insides with his foreskin. Another plume of smoke came rushing down that trunk and into Sylva's maw, this time he was ready. The buzz of the tobacco taking the edge off his need for cigarettes, but also making him feel lightheaded. His body loosened up a bit, allowing that dick to slide deeper and kiss that cervix.

That pussy was getting tighter, the lack of room and air made their slick mess practically vacuumed sealed with that dick inside. Thick squelching and plapping came from that fucking, but it was deliciously tight and slick. Every wall around Magnus drooled with pleasure, his cock head and foreskin being tugged on every time he tried to pull back, only for it to slip right back down into those heated depths.

Magnus prided himself on his stamina, but that was with ass. This was some premium pussy he was cracking open for the first time. His balls tingled and churned, his prostate felt tight, and his dick was like stone. Each vein on his cock was creating a ribbing that would make any whore scream in pleasure, but this wasn't about his bitch; it never would be about him. With his hands free, he was finally able to grip onto Sylva's hips and really go to town.

The bed shook and smacked against the wall, the frame cracking as he relentlessly pounded that pussy. Sylva was a mess, smoke billowed out of his maw and nose, his purple eyes a swirling mess of emotions. Sure he felt pain, but he was really starting to get into it. The cigar making him feel dirty and light all at the same time, that dick smacking his deepest sweet spots, the ones he never knew existed. He only ever used vibrators and played with his clit. He wanted to be tight for a special someone. That special someone just so happened to be his prison daddy.

“OH fuck…" Sylva gasped, secondhand cigar smoke rolling between his lips and tainting the air the faintest shade of cobalt.

“Fuck yes, fuck yeah!" Magnus grunted and snarled as he gritted his teeth together, the pleasure ringing up his body and spine, his cock throbbing and getting ready to bust.

“Fuck yeah, you ready to be my little bitch boi? You gunna be daddy's little nut buster two-thousand? My little money fuck machine!"

“Oh fuck yes…yes…yes daddy. Yes Daddy!" Sylva's pussy wasn't going to be able to hold up much longer. Despite the rough treatment, Magnus was a very experienced man. He knew how to hit it right. It didn't matter if that cervix was bruised and beaten later. Sylva would get his first taste of the pleasure his prison daddy could give him.

“Oh fuck! I'm gunna bust! You want that nut baby? You want to be my good girl! You want to be my good little bitch!"

“Fuck Yes DADDY!" Sylva came, his cunt quivering and splattering his fem cum over the sheets, the juices dribbling down Magnus' dick and kissing his balls. Magnus couldn't hold back anymore either. Magnus' balls drew up, those massive oranges getting ready to blast a balanced breakfast all over that opossum's cunny walls. Magnus dug his dick in as far as he could, seating it right up against the deepest part of that pussy. His cock throbbed, that cum pipe visibly bulging as he was getting ready to bust.

Then his prostate clenched, squelching that nut until it busted out that swollen head! His cock throbbed deep inside Sylva, a warmth blooming in his depths as he felt the man behind him bust his load deep in his pussy. Magnus let out a billowing trumpet through his trunk, cigar smoke billowing out of it like it was some sort of train engine. And with how he fucked through is orgasm, he could have fooled Sylva.

Sylva was forced into orgasm after orgasm, the pleasure compounding over and over as he was brutally fucked. His pussy clenching, his body convulsing in pleasure as cum started to ooze out of his tight folds.

Magnus sighed, the last of his pull sliding past his lips. He cleared his throat and spat a thick wad of mucus on the floor before pulling back, that thick dick leaving a vacuum that quickly filled with cum before spilling out and onto the floor. Sylva felt a warm splash roll down his legs and continued down to his toes. That load was going to severely test his birth control.

Magnus got up on the bed and put both his feet on either side of Sylva, his musky cock drenched in their shared orgasm.

“Come here," he ordered. Sylva obeyed, albeit slowly. He crawled onto those sheets, the bed surprisingly much larger, it just looked small when Magnus was on it. Sylva managed to crawl between Magnus' legs, leaving a snail trail of cum and pussy juices behind him. He collapsed onto Magnus's thick, hairy thigh, panting.

“Already worn out? We're going to have to train you," Magnus smirked. “But first, we got to brand you as mine. So no one else here tries to do anything stupid."

“What…what do you mean brand," Sylva opened his eyes just in time to watch Magnus take his cigar and press it against his cheek. He dared not move, but he did scream. The searing pain of that burning smudge sizzled and cracked, scorching away fur and leaving a permanent mark.

“Good girl," Magnus smirked darkly, his permanent scowl cracking into something far more sinister. “Now let's go onto lesson two. How to breathe with a dick down your throat."

Sylva looked up with tears rolling down his cheeks, the mark a painful reminder of who now owned him, who now controlled his life. He was claimed. He was a prison bitch.

Magnus' little opossum prison pussy.