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“Skeledirge, fetch!”
The ball, already covered in slobber, leaves your hand, soaring several yards through the air before bouncing and rolling into the grass, scattering several Fletchling as it lands. You’ve never seen such an aggressive-looking Pokemon appear so excited - the 700 pound beast bounds eagerly in the direction of his toy like a Fidough would, flattening the grass where it runs.
You sit back in your chair, taking advantage of the moment of reprieve and absorbing the scenery around you. It’d been a long trek through the forest; all of your Pokemon are exhausted - everyone except Skeledirge - and are napping in the warm dappled sunshine. You could easily take a nap yourself; the distant birdsong and the cozy temperature is beginning to make your eyelids heavy. Tinkaton slumbers atop her massive hammer, Altaria snoozes in his plume of cottony wings. They definitely deserve the rest, the constant battles and lack of nearby Pokemon Centers has assured as much.
Just as your eyes begin to close and your head bobs from exhaustion Skeledirge reappears, gleefully carrying the forlorn ball between his jaws. He drops the soggy mess into your lap and sits proudly, his sides heaving from the exercise. You try to contain your sigh as you stand, unsticking the toy from your pants. Eventually, surely, he’ll tire himself out. And then you can have some peace. You wind up your arm, reaching into your dwindling reserves, and hurl the ball forward, propelling it directly into the treeline where it vanishes in the foliage.
Skeledirge stares, then looks up to you uncertainly. You threw it out of sight, and your Pokemon are trained to not stray far from your side. That’s been implemented in their minds all their lives. You allow yourself to finally sigh, massaging your temples. You did this to yourself.
“I’m going to go get your ball,” you say to him, and the Pokemon whimpers, thumping his heavy tail on the ground in protest. “Stay here and rest. I’ll be back.”
It’d be so much easier if you went alone. Knowing your luck Skeledirge would get distracted by something, or possibly start a forest fire. Either option is not ideal. The crocodile whines again, but obediently settles by your chair, his yellow eyes watching you keenly.
“Good boy,” you say, patting his snout. The small yellow bird sitting on his nose chirps affectionately, and you straighten, waving to them before trekking through the safety of the clearing and into the woods.
The sound changes as soon as you step through the brush. The idyllic birdsong is replaced by random chirps and rustles, everything muted, hushed, the sunshine coming through above only in patches. You see movements in your peripheral, Amoongus probably, scurrying away from you through the leaf litter and vanishing in the shadows. You pause, hesitating. Maybe you should bring someone along with; Tinktaton perhaps. After a moment longer you exhale and shake your head. No, it’s fine. Most Pokemon will stay as far away as possible anyway. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them, or so the saying goes. You can use a repel if you absolutely have to.
You crouch to peer in the underbrush, scanning for your blue rubber ball. Either it bounced really far, or a wild Pokemon already picked it up and ran off. (Of course, you had to lose the pricier ball with the Marill design, the one from the Picnic Knack shop that your Pokemon wanted so desperately, the one you had forked way too much money over for.) You’d think that a bright blue ball would be easy to find, but nothing catches your eye.
There’s a snap, a twig being stepped on, and you turn quickly to find a small pink Pokemon peering at you curiously, its long purple tongue nearly the length of its small body, its ears pointed and curved upward. An Impidimp. You’ve seen them with trainers, but never one in the wild. It doesn’t look wary at all, just intrigued by your presence.
You chuckle slightly. “You haven’t happened to see my ball, have you, little guy?”
It blinks at you, tilting its head. You doubt it understands anything you said. You wave and begin to turn away when it reaches into a nearby bush and pulls out an all too familiar ball, strangely large in its grasp compared to how it looks in Skeledirge’s jaws. You can’t hide your pleasant surprise. This was easier than you expected.
“You found it! Thank you!” You crouch down, extending your hands. “Here, I’ll take it.”
It looks at your hands, then at your face. It takes a step closer, raising the ball towards you. In your moment of naivete the cunning thing snatches the ball back just before you can grasp it, its tongue flapping about and lips curling into a wide grin, cackling a wicked little noise. You sit, mouth agape, watching it bounce from foot to foot before bounding away, treasured toy in hand.
“What the- Hey! Stop!”
It leads you under branch and through brush, and if it indeed can understand you, it certainly doesn’t heed you now. It easily vaults over fallen logs and rocks, leaving you scrambling in pursuit. It leads you through the forest, deeper, deeper , and though you may not realize it at the time, it’s leading you further and further away from your Pokemon, from your only safety net.
Thankfully the Impidimp is almost too easy to keep up with, turning back as if to make sure you’re still following, brandishing the Marill ball like a prize, and keeping its vivid pink skin just in view. Somehow, by sheer luck, you manage not to trip over any exposed roots or uneven earth, though in hindsight you think the Pokemon would’ve stopped and waited for you to get up before continuing the chase.
By way of its own design or it finally giving up on its game, it happens upon an opening in the rockface, initially obscured by the greenery. It whips around the corner, vanishing in the depths, and without a second thought you pursue it inside, the tunnel more than large enough for you to sprint within. The sounds of the forest are completely deafened now, replaced with echoed skittering and a cacophony of cries, uncountable pairs of eyes moving about in the shadows, all watching you, following you…leading you?
At a certain point you turn a sharp corner to a surprisingly well-lit corridor, a gap in the rock above allowing a more soothing ambience than the darkness you had felt creeping behind you. Sides heaving, and your thief long gone, you sit down to catch your breath, wondering just how you got yourself into this situation. Strange bioluminescent mushrooms and fungi illuminate the space around you in purples and blues, revealing walls lined with lichen and dripping stalactites on the curved rock above.
The noises of the Pokemon do not follow you to this area, it seems, but their presence can be felt in the void beyond, eyes occasionally flicking around the corner. You wonder why they would leave you like this, so cornered. You know these Pokemon are known for their tricks, but this one makes no sense to you. What is the purpose of this game? To get someone lost? To steal a toy? To make a fool of you?
You shake your head, trying to clear your mind. You can find your way out of here, surely. Even in this darkness, you’re sure the tunnels might be at least somewhat recognizable. You look around the space you’re in, a cavern within the maze of tunnels, a convenient place of respite. Moss not only covers the damp walls but pads the hard ground below your feet, somehow thriving without sunlight in the darkness. If you were a Pokemon you’d certainly rest here.
…Which makes it somewhat odd that none of the onlookers around you have entered the space. You can see Morgrem and Impidimps alike peering in from the various paths that feed into this place, and yet none of their clawed feet step past the invisible threshold, almost as if they aren’t allowed to enter, obeying some hidden authority.
They’re probably just scared. Don’t overthink it. Before you know it you’ll be back in the safety of the clearing with your own Pokemon, taking a nap under the warm sunshine…
That is, until you feel a deep, hot breath way too close on the back of your neck, and fear creeps down every inch of your skin at its sudden appearance. You fumble forward into the damp lichen, turning back to see a large, sharply pointed nose atop a maw with huge, bared fangs. Its red eyes blink as it steps towards you, its crescent ears stretching upwards. A Grimmsnarl, and a huge one at that. You’ve never seen one in person. Its dark purple coat obscures most of the Pokemon’s body, save for its green face, abdomen, and feet. You didn’t even hear its approach.
It snarls nastily, those same fangs glistening in the dim light. You instinctively reach for a Pokeball at your waist belt, and its eyes trail down, following the movement carefully. When the realization that you don’t magically have your Pokemon with you comes to both you and the threatening Grimmsnarl towering over you, its disposition shifts. A gleam shines in its eyes as it pads towards you, gravel and moss shifting beneath its pointed feet. Its single nostril sniffs at you, blowing almost as strong as a breeze, taking you in. Its behavior is clear; without your team, you’re defenseless, just how it wants you.
Your mind passes vaguely at the concept of using your repel, but the idea is swiftly torn away as you reach back, your strap torn by its claw in a movement so quick you almost don’t catch it, and your bag cast aside to the other end of the den, the sound of items falling out reverberating about the vacant space. You swear the shapes around you giggle at the sight, invisible Morgrem and Impidimps chortling in the shadows.
The Grimmsnarl, now content with its own safety (as if it couldn't just kill you outright), snuffles forward with its nostril, lowering itself down above your smaller form, a giant hand on either side of you, taking in more of your scent. It takes particular interest in your neck, its cool skin tickling the sensitive area above your collarbone. It then descends lower, over your chest and abdomen, and as heinous thoughts cross your mind you instantly begin to retreat, shuffling backwards with your elbows and feet. It follows you easily, ultimately placing a single large hand across your entire abdomen. Red slitted eyes are brought close to your face, gleaming with emotions you could read but dare not imagine, your mind desperate to repress what could actually happen here, regret pulsing in your veins violently.
Those eyes…There’s understanding and intelligence in those crimson irises. But there’s more than that, there’s a carnal desire and primal need, perhaps even more present than any other emotion. Your heart is in your throat, and there’s a sinking feeling in your stomach, a grim sense of understanding regarding the situation. The rock is rough under your soft palms as you attempt once again to push your body away, trying to make space, but its clawed hand remains firm on your stomach, locking you down almost painfully, making it hard to breathe.
Your mind is quaking, your breath shaking. The Grimmsnarl smells strongly of fungi and moss, an earthy musk that reminds you of the soil after a rainstorm, overwhelming your senses. It probes your throat with its pointed nose, inhaling over your pulse, and its fanged teeth are close, too close, glinting in the dim light. With a single bite it could easily sever your neck, ending you right here and now. And yet…it doesn’t. It sniffs downward, catching your school blazer in its teeth, pulling it down. You want to move your hands, push it off and away, but your limbs refuse to come to life, paralyzed by your sides. You can’t even scream because your jaw is clenched so tight.
Your shirt escapes its fangs and snaps back to shape as it continues downward, completely entranced by you. Perhaps you’re the first human it’s ever seen. Perhaps it’ll finish checking you out and then be on its way, back to the darkness from whence it came.
(How foolish of you.)
It gets down to your slacks, the gaudy bright orange pair the school requires, and you feel a temporary sense of relief that you had decided against wearing a skirt today. It inspects your button and zipper, abruptly huffs, and leans back, removing its hand from your chest. It seems to be…thinking. Its red eyes flick from your face to your feet to the silver button on your pants, as if weighing its options.
And then it places both clawed hands around your ankles, surprising you. You begin to open your mouth, perhaps to ask just what it plans to do with you, when the hair on its arms… ripple. The words freeze in your mouth. Dark strands move with a mind of their own, swirling down its hands around your legs, and then snaking up, slipping easily underneath your pant cuffs. You gasp, everything standing on end. The sensation of having something writhing and sliding along your warm skin is nearly indescribable, one you could never imagine nor ever want to experience again. The tendrils begin to tighten and harden, but not around your legs. No, they’re pushing outward, forcing against your slacks, stretching the fabric, straining it. What is it-
Pop. A seam snaps undone, then another, and another. Cool air rushes in the ragged holes, but the Grimmsnarl does not seem satisfied with merely ruining your pants. No, it seems to want to destroy them entirely. The fabric rips and shreds apart as its hairs tear it apart from the inside out, popping your button off and sending it skittering into the darkness. You mindlessly put your hands over your legs, as if trying to salvage anything, as if trying to conceal yourself. The frayed cloth nonetheless falls away, completely shredded. You don’t have time to process this quick change of events as its hair retracts and it leans down, pressing its nose into the flushed skin of your inner thigh. Your panties, as thin and defenseless as they are, are the only thing between you and this beast.
Its teeth graze your delicate skin as it moves upwards, pressing into the only remaining fabric between your legs. Your hands instinctively reach forward to its green, leathery face, trying to push it away, trying desperately to preserve yourself. It doesn’t budge. No, it can’t want this. It’s so wrong, so foul. You push against it once more, earnestly, grunting with the effort, yet still it isn’t swayed by your hands, easily conquering your measly strength, driving further inward to inhale the wet scent permeating through your undergarments.
“Stop-”
Its jaws part, extending its forked purple tongue, glistening with saliva.
“No!”
Its tongue, just as flexible as its fur, slides under your panties and slips right into your tight heat, swirling the appendage to curve and press in places fiendishly unimaginable. Your back arches, electrocuted. It’s almost serpentine in its movements inside you, firm and yet tantalizingly smooth and slick. You keep one hand on its face as the other goes to cover your mouth, refusing to give any indication that you could possibly enjoy this. You can’t. You stifle a groan as it prods and pushes, a sensation like no other. Your thighs are starting to tremble against your will, shaking at the ministrations. You want to kick it away, but those teeth are so close to you that you hesitate.
The Grimmsnarl grunts, shifting your hips with its hands to angle its face better and plunges as deep as possible, its pointed nose brushing against your now swelling clit. Its claws dig into your waist as it holds you up to its mouth, surely leaving marks from its nails, devouring you whole. Your womb receives little mercy to the beast’s tongue, driving the breath out of your lungs with every twist and thrust. It thrashes about now, twisting and undulating, hitting nerve endings you didn’t know existed, the friction dragging its nose, wet from your heat, across your throbbing clit. You don’t want to enjoy this, you deny it, but it’s become impossible, all rational thought cast away out of reach. You’re almost lost to the intensity.
Searing heat sparks up at your core as your mind continues to go more and more lost, spreading out like wildfire, whimpers and moans once held back now set free. Vaguely you can hear the others in the darkness, chortling and chattering at the sight. This does not go unheard by the Grimmsnarl and it growls in response, sending sudden rough vibrations through its lips and tongue, pulling you over the edge. You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never been pleasured like this before. You cry out, your vision going blotchy as small tears bead at the corners of your eyes-
Your body is tightening, clenching around its tongue as waves of pleasure surge through you, molten and fiery. It continues mouth fucking you as you cum, unhampered by your convulsions, riding you out until you’re trembling and dripping into its mouth. You realize that during all of that you began desperately clinging to its broad shoulders, using anything to tether yourself while awash in pleasure, only noticing this when you have to unclench your fingers from its dark fur.
Its tongue withdraws, leaving you twitching and terribly empty in its wake, and before you can fully mourn the loss it suddenly licks up the length of your heat in one long motion, bottom to top, causing you to gasp. It laps up the remnants of your climax greedily, hungrily, slipping between all of your folds to secure every last bit before closing its mouth and swallowing, making your face flush in embarrassment.
It looks down at you now, looking as self-satisfied as a Pokemon possibly could. Your eyes, whether it’s instinctual or by accident, drift down, finding that its body has also begun responding to the situation. You want to look away, but by morbid curiosity you can’t. Its member is visible from its sheath, long, slick, and hardened. It starts green at the base, morphing into a darker blue at the pointed tip, already glistening with anticipation. You swallow, your stomach doing flips. Is it really going to go this far? Morally you want to resist but your instincts are overriding those thoughts, arousal overcoming common sense. If it brushed that monstrosity against your soaked heat then…
Your head swims. Resistance would be futile at that point.
It stands and the hair on its arm unfurls once again, wrapping thick tendrils around your waist and thighs and pulling your hips up to meet it in the middle, suspending you in the air aside from your upper back, allowing just enough slack to let your legs fall conveniently open. You gasp as you’re lifted, the beast raising you easily into the air as if you weigh nothing. The Grimmsnarl huffs and shifts on its feet restlessly, rocking you about with its movement. You feel a laxity in its grip on your legs and waist, allowing you to be less tilted on your axis, just shy from being perpendicular to its own hips now, yet angled just slightly by the writhing tendrils to keep your legs out of the way. Though in a daze, you still attempt to pull your legs back together to no avail. Cool air chills your wet, now perfectly loose and supple, core.
It licks its fangs in anticipation, its eyes locked on the folds between your legs. Its gaze pierces its target; no longer does it concern itself with your captured body, no. You feel a hunger in its stare, a need, something it can and will take so easily from you. It pulls its pelvis back, dragging its cock up along your slit, hovering just above your entrance, tantalizingly so. You can feel the warmth from it, smell its arousal. The beast leans its head near yours, heated breath on the side of your face, and feverish wetness envelopes your right ear before you realize what’s happening - its tongue on your ear, slipping just far enough inside to make the kind of squishing sounds that sends a bolt down your spine. Your senses buzz; the noise, the warmth, the sensation. You dig your nails into the fur of its arms as its teeth graze your earlobe, pricking pain and pleasure on the sensitive skin.
It shifts its hips again and lines the pointed end up to you like a spear, dripping promise, grinding slightly against your body and granting you delicious temporary friction. How can it be such a tease? You’re gasping weak little sounds, not quite begging for it to continue, not quite pleading it to stop. It pauses to see the source of the noise, making a gravelly sound deep within its throat. It brings its face frighteningly close to yours, close enough that you swear you can see your reflection in its canines. It opens its massive maw, the rush of the hot breath contained within washing over your face, distraction enough for its forked tongue to shove forward, through your parted lips, and into your mouth. You startle, attempting to gag, but its muscled tongue is relentless, swiping and pushing every which way. You can taste yourself in its mouth. Your sin, your pleasure. Tears are streaming down your face and you aren't given a moment to catch your breath. Your lips wrap around its tongue, trying to slow the assault, but to no avail. You’re going to pass out if it continues like this.
It relents just as your vision begins to fade, its tongue sliding from where it entered your throat and out past your lips, leaving you a coughing, drooling mess. The beast turns its attention to your neck, its tongue now sliding down its length, tasting your flushed skin, making everything prickle and ache. You can’t bear to look at its eyes, eyes you know must be dripping arousal, a reality you still can’t bear to face. (You know that your expression would be mirroring its own at this rate.) Its breath moves to the crook of your neck, at the soft place between your shoulder and throat, saliva wetting your skin, pooling from its starved jaws.
Before you can even take in another breath it thrusts its cock forward, spearing you to the hilt. You cry out at the sudden large expansion, and you involuntarily clench and squeeze around the intruder as it stretches you painfully. Its jaws clamp on your shoulder as it thrusts, sharp teeth piercing soft flesh and drawing blood. As much as it aches it does distract you from the initial abrupt intrusion, at the excessive stretch and strain below. The Grimmsnarl groans into your neck, a sound that reverberates deep in its chest, satisfaction permeating its tone. It pulls its cock out of you slowly, trailing your juices before pushing back in just as fast and as hard as before. It repeats this, grunting, its grip around you tightening to hold your small body in place. It must be striking your very stomach at this rate; it goes so deep with every thrust that your vision blots and blurs.
Your body was loosened, certainly, but nothing could have prepared you for this. The rapidity and size hurts and yet with every motion is a wave of pleasure, toe-curling ecstasy as it slides against all the right spots. You cling to its arms desperately, pinned in place by its cock, crying and moaning freely now. The wet sounds filling the cave…the slap of its body against yours…it’s all culminating into the erotic arousal swelling inside of your core once again. They’re watching you get fucked. But at this point, it’s the furthest thing from your mind.
The Grimmsnarl ruts into you with a furious endeavor, and you can feel it steadily swell within you at the end of each thrust, each now more tight than the last. How can that be possible? Surely, it must become easier to take the longer this goes on. Vaguely then your thoughts drift to acknowledge that it must have a knot, and clearly, it must intend on using it tonight. You’re going to be bred here and now whether you like it or not. Its jaws open, freeing your shoulder, its fangs stained red, breathing heavily as its hips gyrate into your body, slowly filling you impossibly more and more .
Its thrusts start growing shorter, the base of its cock having begun to swell and stopping at your entrance, unable to go further. Its knot. More fur from its arms twist over your body, tightening you around its throbbing member. You can feel its balls slapping heavily against your skin, heavy with…
You whimper. This is really happening.
It slows down after finally having established a steady rhythm, more careful with its cock as it forces the rounded knot over your entrance over, and over, a snap of pain every time the widest part passes through you and back out, making you cry out. No way. It won’t fit. It’s going to tear you apart if it tries. You groan, your entrance stretched and stinging from the strain of it all, tugging at the beast’s fur in desperation. Stop. Stop!
The Grimmsnarl growls, displeased. You feel tickling on your inner thighs, looking down to find thin hair tendrils snaking up to you while you watch in morbid fascination. They easily slide inside you with how wide you’ve been penetrated, how slick your walls have become. Before you can think further, before you can wonder what those tendrils could be attempting to accomplish, the hairs hook past your cervix and pull, determined to open you as much as possible. Your scream is a silent noise that dies in your throat as the Grimmsnarl quickly thrusts again, grinding the swollen base through with a sick popping sound, and tugging back painfully to affirm it’s in place. You’ve been knotted and claimed by the beast, making you its bitch, a hole made solely for its seed.
Now secured, and tears falling further down your face, it pulls your body as close as possible to its hips and pumps forward and back inside you, faster and faster again, piercing your deepest womb and almost feeling as though it's going further with the pressure on your abdomen. You swear with every thrust that your stomach bulges slightly, rounded from the intrusion, shaping you to its specifications. It slams you up and down on its length, its teeth bared as it fucks you senseless, saliva and blood dripping from its jaws. You can’t take it anymore. You’re not going to last.
And apparently, neither can the Grimmsnarl.
Its claws scratch into your sides freely now and it snarls, bright heat spilling into you as you’re brought over the edge to scream, your body milking the large cock with each pulse it makes, filling you to the brim with its hot seed, as if you were made just to take its climax. Stars spiral in your vision as it continues rutting desperately with erratic, jerking movements, pulling against your sore and overstimulated flesh. Your body tightens up again, the familiar clenching of climax, the heat within turning fiery. Your body contracts around its member and makes the monster groan, its eyes nearly rolling into the back of its head as it continues thrusting. You can hardly feel your own climax, your sensation lost in all of the other commotion.
You remain suspended after you cum, your sweat having dampened its fur enough to leave you feeling near feverish where its tendrils entrap you. Slowly the beast calms, grinding to a halt within you, panting swift and heavy. Your own chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, reasonable amounts of consciousness slowly returning to you as the seconds tick by, and with it bitter realization.
You swear under your breath and the Grimmsnarl's ears perk, its dilated eyes now focusing on you. It watches you struggle against its grip and it whines, tightening around your waist while it dawns on you that you're stuck. You'd been knotted, and neither of you were going anywhere any time soon. As if to confirm your thoughts, it tugs its hips, whining again as you cry out. It bares its fangs as a warning to you before carefully lowering you to the ground as it pulls its legs beneath you, allowing you to straddle the beast while you remain connected. Its tongue, warm and wet, licks your exposed stomach and thighs and neck, tasting the sweat slicking your skin. It’s both a disgusting and yet somewhat comforting gesture, and you lay still, letting it happen, unable to really fight against it even if you wanted to.
After grooming you for several minutes you feel its grip finally relent as hair pulls away from your limbs and torso, leaving you shivering as the cool air makes contact with your naked body, marks from the tendrils imprinted on your bare skin. A large arm shifts, pulling you into its warm bare abdomen, a surprisingly kind action given all of the prior events. You see nothing but its body now, fully sheltered and its knot still pulsing within you. But you feel oddly... safe.
(Even as you feel it release more ropes of slick cum into your already swollen womb, your belly rounded like you're carrying a child. Even as your mind, exhausted and beaten, tries to recount the events before.)
You're unable to fight against the need to rest now, the skittering in the background and the Grimmsnarl’s breathing growing distant in your mind. You’re worn out beyond recognition, mentally, physically. You don’t want to be falling asleep here, next to this beast, but you have no option. You’re unconscious before you even realize it.
You dream of nothing, simply blissful darkness before a distant rustling brings you to the land of the waking, making you open your eyes. The dark cave ceiling looms above you, establishing that yes, you are really still here. The next thing you process is the slight ache of tender bruises on your body, soft purple marks you can see in the shape of the Grimmsnarl’s tendrils around your thighs, waist, and arms. You shift a little, feeling a flash of heat and soreness, liquid pooling out of you, and the memories stream back in - the motions, the sounds, the sensations. Your cheeks flush and you glance over your shoulder, seeing the large shape of the Grimmsnarl beside you, its rumbling snores audible, your body cocooned in its own, spooning you, protecting you. It’s…warm. And safe. Despite the prior events you have no fear or remorse in this moment, and you brush your fingers across the bruises on your legs fondly.
There’s another rustle, the one that has awoken you in the first place, and you glance up to see a small pink face peering in at you, one that is strikingly familiar. The faint sound of it makes Grimmsnarl grumble in its sleep, pulling you closer, frightening the Pokemon away until the Grimmsnarl settles again. The Impidimp tentatively peeks around the corner again, and in its little hands it holds your blue Marill ball, the one you had tried so hard to save in the first place.
If you could smack the little Pokemon you would, but you dismiss the thought immediately because of the Grimmsnarl. The Impidimp carefully steps closer before crouching down, setting the ball on the ground and rolling it towards you, where it stops against your arm.
Well. You suppose in the end you
were
successful, in more ways than one.