The sound of rustling was the first thing Ralph could clearly perceive as he returned to consciousness. The foul stench of feted body odor was next. His vision followed slowly…very slowly. Though the thick veil of darkness, he could identify vague shapes of chain-link cages filled with boxes and shelves. From just that, he realized he wasn’t being held in a cell, but in the prison's storage room; where villain paraphernalia and contraband were held under lock and key.
Ralph heard the rustling again. Though now with the aid of consciousness, he could also make out something scraping against metal. His eyes followed the noise to a large dark figure squatting on the floor a few feet away from his chair. The mystery giant had their back turned towards Ralph as it poured over something that gave off a faint glow. The light might have been dulled, but it was enough to reveal a thick flank bulging out of a tight-fitting orange prisoner’s uniform in tatters.
Scattered on the floor around the shadowed figure, Ralph noticed a mess of mangled crowbars, emptied cans of WD-40, shattered pliers, a pack of spearmint gum, a wallet and a key ring with only a small MCF personnel ID attached to it. The ring’s keys were removed from their cradle and strewn across the floor, bent out of shape. Even with the limited light, Ralph could make out the last three items as his own, stolen from his pants pockets. It made him feel a bit violated, but he knew full well it wouldn’t even compare to the potential harm he’d suffer if the inmate managed to open whatever they were fixated on.
Fortunately, it seemed Ralph wouldn’t have to stay long enough to see it. Whomever his captor was, they weren’t very good at tying knots. As he brushed his nimble fingers against the rope binding them to the back of the chair, he managed to push, prod and pull his restraints expertly enough to loosen them.
‘Not out of the woods yet…just gotta stay quiet until I can find a way out of here,” Ralph though a second before a forceful sneeze escaped his unprepared lips.
Shit…
Klaxons screamed in Ralph’s brain as he watched his mysterious captor rise with a start. The moment he saw them stand almost seven feet, he frantically tore at the ropes with hands glazed in dread and adrenaline. The figure was only a foot away as he finally freed himself from his bindings. With panic saturating every move he made, he flew out of his chair and bolted. In the cover of darkness, he couldn’t tell where he was going, but he was sure it was better than where he was now. Ralph moved only two steps away from the chair before the discarded rope seized his ankles, and brought him down to the ground.
Ralph second desperate fight with the rope lasted only seconds as a large foot landed on his back. Grunting in pain, he turned around to learn the identity his attacker. With the light from a phone clutched in her hand – his phone – he found himself staring into the pudgy face of one of the last prisoners he wanted to confront: Prisoner F-567. Brook Turner, also known as Hippo Girl. One of the most infamous villains in Metropolis.
Ralph had good reason to fear Brook. Of all the villains in lock-up, she was one of the few who refused to fall in line. Thanks to the tailor-made, triple-reinforced Duramantium-plated chastity belt denying her any sort of contact with her intersexed genitals, her carnal frustration manifested in an abominable and often violent attitude. Brook had regular confrontations with both prisoners and guards which would often end with black eyes, bloodied noses, broken bones, and busted teeth.
Threats of being blasted with water failed to deter Brook’s abrasive behavior. She’d once managed to steal a hose from a guard and discharged brutal torrents of water into anyone who tried to take it back from her. In response, Ralph had the walls and ceiling of Brook’s cell embedded with powerful hoses. During her mandatory pornography viewing sessions, on days she would misbehave, she would be thoroughly drenched with one of the hoses; usually when it seemed her exasperation had reached a boiling point. On the occasion that he was feeling particularly spiteful, Ralph would activate a hose to force a sleeping Brook to flail out of her bed as she bellowed gruesome swears and death threats. The threats did little to deter Ralph, as he interpreted the prisoner’s outbursts as chips of her resolve flaking away.
Though the thing that made Ralph the wariest of Brook was her strength. Throughout her incarceration, she’d been desperate to overpower her inhibitor collar, so she could remove her chastity belt. She’d work extra shifts in the yard, push herself in the gym, anything she could do to build her natural muscle. Of course, since the collars were made to actively adjust themselves to their bearer’s power, it was a hilariously futile effort. The only thing she’d succeeded in doing was molding her flabby body into something more fitting for an extra bulky sumo wrestler. Although now that Brook’s collar was out of the equation, all her new gains were now stacked on top of her terrifying natural strength.
Brook rolled Ralph over on his back with her bare foot before planting it on his stomach. She aimed his cellphone’s light on her crotch, where her jumpsuit had been torn away to reveal her chastity belt; a device created almost as copious as its wearer to completely contain her considerately sized attachments. Without any obvious catches, buckles, or openings of any kind, the belt was virtually impossible to detach. The apparatus’ slick surface was covered in many, many scratches. Obviously inflicted by Brook and her stolen tools. Ralph found some relief knowing that, despite her newfound strength, Brook was still couldn’t remove her belt. The relief quickly evaporated as the light of the phone exposed the searing anger flickering in Hippo Girl’s eyes.
“Take it off,” Brook demanded through gritted teeth. Her voice quaked with both boiling rage and strung-out desperation.
“No”.
Brook responded by putting all her strength into a hard stomp into Ralph’s gut. Miraculously, she missed his ribs. Though he swore she broke something else as a shockwave of pain forced a long loud agonized groan out his mouth.
“Take. It. Off. NOW!” Brook thundered.
“Make me.”
Brook’s foot left Ralph’s stomach to deliver a hard kick straight to his own crotch. A scream and a bit of bile escaped Ralph as a new storm of pain and nausea overwhelmed him.
“Do you realize how fucked you are right now, dick head?” Brook said as she kicked Ralph’s head to the side before pinning it underneath her sole. His head erupted in agony as the convict’s fat plush feet pressed his skull harder and harder into the cold hard floor. The pain was nothing compared to the horrors haunting Ralph’s nose. Apparently, without soap, Brook’s regular hosings did very little to curb her natural odor. Neglecting to dry her off after each spray allowed the water to stew inside her jumpsuit during each of her strenuous work out sessions. The result was a fungus living between Brook’s toes that smelled of overripened Limburger. It didn’t smell quite as bad as Footgirl, but right now, that wasn’t saying much.
“Get this fucking thing off me before I bust your head open like a watermelon!” Said Brook, adding more pressure to Ralph’s head to stress her threat.
“You can go ahead and kill me if you want, F-567,” said Ralph. “I’ll die happy knowing you’ll never get to touch your cock again. Because I’m the only one who knows how to open your belt.”
A hard-throbbing pain tremored through Ralph’s skull as Brook removed her foot from him. She kept on beaming her furious glare into him, but he didn’t care. Just so long as he’d gotten through to her.
“That’s better,” He said, smiling as a surge of confidence surged through his body. “Now Prisoner F-567, I want you to-“
“Shut up,” Brook growled. “You don’t get to call the shots anymore. I do. Take this fucking thing off!”
“So you can shove your thing down my throat? That’s not happening,” Said Ralph. “Now unless you want your fat ass stuffed into the chair when this is all over, you better start listening to me, F-567. Because there is no amount of bargaining, no amount of pain, no amount of torment you can offer me to get me to remove that belt!”
As Brook kneeled to stare him directly in the face, Ralph couldn’t help but slowly question the integrity of his own words. Perhaps he’d rode a little too high on his wave of confidence.
“Oh yeah?” Brook asked as her grimace slowly stretched itself into an unnerving toothy smile. “Let’s see about that.”
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