Ardwin had fallen into a mood. It wasn’t something that he liked to indulge in. It brought him no satisfaction to be the kind of person who dragged his feet, moped, and exuded an aura of vibe dampening that was rivalled only by a blanket freshly pulled out of the sea. Sometimes, though, life just got to you, and keeping a happy face and trucking on like usual simply wasn’t an option. Other people rarely knew what to say during those times. They’d offer consolation as best they could if he sought it out, but no matter how much they tried to soothe, Ardwin had found it rare that anyone had something to say that would truly help whenever he got into a right proper slump. As it was clear he wasn’t going to find what he was looking for in the company of others, Ardwin instead turned to the company of himself. Sitting around in his room and stewing in his thoughts would do more harm than good, though. So he decided to go on a walk instead, in the hopes that some fresh air might improve his disposition. But this time, it was already half past ten when he’d first realised that he was starting to slip. That meant the only light outside was the moon high overhead and the bright glare of the streetlights. While it wasn’t quite far enough into autumn for it to be freezing outside, the sound of the wind tearing past his window made it clear that the weather wasn’t exactly clement. Ardwin didn’t care. When he was in the state that he was in, the cold didn’t dissuade him. It was welcome, even. One might’ve wondered if wandering aimlessly in the dark and the cold was conducive to [i]improving[/i] his mood, but whoever that one was, it certainly wasn’t Ardwin. So as had become routine for him, he threw on a jacket and a pair of shoes before heading out. Down the stairs of his apartment, through the door, and out into the street, sending a rattata scuttling away into the darkness as he stepped foot onto the sidewalk. Then, he walked. When he’d first started out on those small excursions of his, Ardwin hadn’t really had a destination in mind. He just picked a direction and walked in it, turning around and heading back whenever he’d had his fill. His apartment was planted right where the urban gave way to the rural, so he certainly had no lack of choice in terms of surroundings. Ardwin had already thoroughly explored the more accessible places. He was familiar enough with the rows of identical looking houses that he could probably loop around the block and get back to his apartment with his eyes closed. The exercise was nice, but rehashing the same familiar routes did very little to distract him, which was the entire point of what he was doing. So instead of turning right down the sidewalk and heading deeper into civilization, he hooked a left, heading down the road that cut through the forest. It couldn’t have taken more than fifteen minutes before he reached it: a small trail winding through the trees and into the woods. Tricky to make out by the dim light of the moon, but Ardwin knew exactly what he was looking for. The feeling of tarmac under his shoes gave way to packed dirt and crunching leaves. The canopy overhead meant that there was precious little light to see by, but Ardwin got by well enough. He knew the way well enough that there was no risk of him slamming his face into an unexpected tree, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, the going only got easier. As he walked, Ardwin kept his eyes locked up into the branches ahead until he spotted it. Looming over the trail and positioned just right so that it was obscured by the trees was a gate, of sorts. There were no doors to it; it was more just a wooden arch, one that would be quite easy to miss were it not for the shadow it cast on the ground where it blocked the light filtering through the canopy. Ardwin had to squint to see the gate’s silhouette against the night sky, but it was definitely there. He was in the right place, then. Ardwin passed under it, and the trees around him thinned out and gave way to a small clearing, permitting a clear view of the night sky overhead. That meant an ample supply of moonlight to illuminate the area, revealing the neat stacks of stones that surrounded the area, placed at regular intervals. They were old. A glance at the moss that blanketed all of them made that evident. What was less clear was who made them, or what they were for. It was obvious they were no natural formations, but aside from that, the rocks were in no rush to offer their history. He liked that. The whole place had a mystique to it, one that never failed to have his mind working, crafting endless extravagant theories in an attempt to guess at its purpose. He had no way of confirming or denying any of them, of course, but it was a nice way to pass the time. More than that, though, it was serene. He might’ve been less than a half hour from the road, but surrounded by trees and nature as he was, he might as well have been a thousand miles away from civilization. Ardwin felt that everyone needed to feel like that, sometimes. Everyone needed an escape in one form or another. But sometimes, that wasn’t enough. The kind of stuff that drove him to go to places like this had a tendency to follow him no matter how far he walked. In the end, it all came down to one thing, the same thing that everyone seemed to spend all their time thinking about: money. Or, more appropriately, the lack thereof. He had enough of it, in the most technical sense of the word ‘enough.’ There was a roof over his head when he slept, and he didn’t go hungry, most of the time. That, however, was about the long and short of what his funds were able to provide. Some people said that money wasn’t everything, and while he appreciated the sentiment, Ardwin had found that those same people tended to be the ones who had enough money to satisfy their needs. They felt that since they weren’t rich but still managed to get by with some measure of happiness that, short of being out on the street, any complaints about financial woes were simply a problem of having the wrong outlook on life. All the things they bought that enabled their happiness seemed to be taken completely for granted. Particularly one thing: pokémon. While it technically didn’t cost anything to own a pokémon, barring the particularly exotic ones that required a license, there was still plenty of money that came into owning one. Food. Medicine. The price of getting one in the first place, if you weren’t lucky enough to have a friend able to hook you up with a starter. That last one was the real kicker. Getting his hands on a good pokémon would mean him having nothing to eat for a solid month, even without accounting for rent. Given that he wasn’t quite rugged enough to head out into the woods with nothing but a poké ball and come back out with a pokémon, Ardwin wasn’t left with a whole lot of options. He could get his hands on one of the more common ones, sure. Caterpie and weedle didn’t exactly go for a premium. At the same time, though, Ardwin didn’t really [i]want[/i] that. Sure, some people could form a connection with a pokémon like that, but Ardwin wasn’t one of them. That was what it really came down to. Ardwin wanted a pokémon that he’d be able to relate to, form some sort of bond with, and everything that fell into that category seemed intent on painting his bank account red. Living every day surrounded by reminders of what he couldn’t have was eating him up inside. Ardwin sighed, slumping back against the trunk of a nearby tree before sliding his way down to the ground. When he touched down onto the grass, feeling its moisture starting to wick into the seat of his pants, he let out a sigh. “Man,” Ardwin muttered to himself. “I wish that cool, powerful pokémon were just, like, magically attracted to me.” [h2]“GRANTED.”[/h2] Ardwin nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of the voice, booming at him from every direction, loud and bassy enough to shake the leaves from the branches above him. He scrambled up to his feet, glancing from side to side with his back pressed against the tree behind him as if it could provide some sort of protection. It did not. While Ardwin could see no source for the voice he was hearing, whatever it was that had spoken to him wasted no time in making itself present in other ways. Specifically, in the form of an overpowering feeling of pins and needles throughout every inch of his body that had him dropping onto his hands and knees with a gasp. “What the fuhhh...” Whatever words Ardwin was going to say were lost in a cross between a sigh and a wheeze. He was admittedly unfamiliar with the feeling of getting hit by a pokémon move, but he was certain what he was experiencing wasn’t it. There were no loud noises, no flashy displays, nothing but silence and the all-consuming tingling that turned his limbs to jelly. At some point, his arms gave out from under him, and the muscle control needed to push himself back up was simply not there. He had to have spent at least a full minute like that, sprawled out on the ground, unable to move so much as an inch or do anything but lay there and experience every nerve in his body flickering like a thousand candles in the wind. It was difficult to form a coherent thought in those conditions, but with what little awareness he still possessed, Ardwin wondered whether this was what dying felt like. It wasn’t as unpleasant as he’d imagined, if so. Just overwhelmingly strange. When he strained his eyes down to look at his body, though, he realised that, no, he wasn’t dying. What was happening to him was far more confusing than that. His fall to the ground had hiked up one of his sleeves enough for him to see the skin of his arm underneath, and while it was difficult to make out any of the fine details, there was definitely something off. The darkness meant he couldn’t make out the colour of it, but the shade of his arm was definitely a few swatches darker than it ought to have been. And thinner, too. Ardwin would never have described himself as muscular, but he was sure that he’d never been [i]that[/i] skinny. Those fears were only amplified when he saw his arm shrinking down on itself before his eyes—only slightly, but undeniably so. But before his mind could start panicking about the prospect of being afflicted by some sort of wasting disease, Ardwin noticed another change. It wasn’t a difference in what he was looking at, but about the way he was seeing it. He was sure that it was just as dark as it was before, but somehow, things were becoming easier to see. Colours made themselves clear, even bright, in spite of the dim light. Which meant that he was finally able to make out what it was that’d happened to his arm: it’d turned blue. A rather pleasant shade of azure blue, sure, but blue all the same. There was no doubt about it now, he was definitely being changed into something, but what exactly he was being changed into remained to be seen. The position he was in combined with the clothes obscuring the majority of his body made it impossible to see most of the changes he was experiencing, but he could definitely feel them, even with the sensations muddied by the non-stop buzzing still running through his body like an electric current. His chest and the rest of his limbs were going through the same treatment that his arm had received, compressing down on themselves, shaping him into a more slender, graceful form. At the very least, none of his parts were falling off. While Ardwin certainly wasn’t comfortable with anything that was happening to him, that probably would’ve been enough to have him outright screaming, assuming he still had the ability to do so. When the next change started sweeping over him, he wasn’t sure that he still did. The tingling in his face dissipated, only to be replaced by a strange feeling of heat that steadily grew until, like a piece of clay that some unseen force had sunk its fingers into, his facial features began to shift. He gasped, so he was definitely still able to do that much. That morphing worked its way past his face and deeper into his body with every second, shaping his inner workings into a very particular shape. And though he still couldn’t see himself well enough to be certain, Ardwin had started to suspect just what shape that was. The blue colour had thrown him off for a bit, but when his nose shrunk and atrophied until he could hardly feel it on his face at all, he was near certain that his guess was correct. The growth of his eyes, with an accompanying shift in his field of vision that left him mildly nauseous, only served to further solidify that suspicion. But the most damning change was in his chest—specifically, right in the centre of his rib cage, both in his front and in his back. A pressure was growing there, pressing out from inside him as if it were trying to break free from his body. That turned out to be exactly what happened, though with the same peculiar lack of pain that had accompanied all of his transformations up to that point. Ardwin’s jacket bulged out right where his sternum laid, matched by an identical bulge on the opposite side of his body, just below his shoulder blades. Those bulges grew to a length of about half a foot in front of him, half that in back, and then it was done. That electric current that’d been running through him fizzled out to nothing, as did the warmth in his face and, he only then noticed, other places that’d undergone more significant restructuring. His hands and feet, for one, which seemed to be short a couple of extremities. The fading of the tingling brought with it renewed control over his body, and as soon as Ardwin realised that, he pushed himself up to his knees—a feeling of gratitude that he still had them washing over him—and brought his hands up to his face. Yep, three fingers. Glancing back, he saw that his feet had changed even more dramatically, having become little more than rounded points at the ends of his legs that weren’t even sufficient to keep his shoes held on. But neither of those were the focus of his attention. He reached up and grabbed the zipper of his jacket with fingers that felt unfamiliar to him, yanking it down and letting the whole garment, now too large, slip off his shoulders and drop to the ground behind him. Underneath, having torn straight through the fabric of his t-shirt, was a large orange horn. Well, that left no question about it. Through some mysterious means and by the whim of an even more mysterious entity, Ardwin had been transformed into a gardevoir. A shiny gardevoir, no less. Just as that was sinking into his mind, there was one last change. More of a shift, really. Not like any of the ones he’d just experienced in his body, but something more universal, yet at the same time far too subtle for him to pin down. It manifested itself as a brief but intense moment of vertigo, one that forced him to plant a hand on the tree next to him to maintain his balance. Then, just as suddenly as it’d come, it was over. Ardwin blinked, recollected himself, and glanced down at his body to see if anything had changed. Nothing. Which meant everything, of course, given what he’d just been through, but there were no physical changes to him aside from what had already happened. But there was definitely something different, and it took him a few seconds of staring down at himself before Ardwin could pinpoint exactly what it was. He was seeing a whole lot more of his body than he was before, and this time, it definitely wasn’t a change in how he was seeing it. There was some small measure of relief in that his perception of the world was no longer being warped and twisted like someone fiddling with the settings of a television, but it was overshadowed by the fact that the difference he was detecting was that his clothes were gone. Apparently, whatever force had stolen his humanity had also seen fit to take his pants. Though his decency wasn’t completely gone. Ardwin now had the characteristic white frills of a gardevoir to cover himself with—though his seemed a good deal shorter, coming down only to around the middle of his thighs. Because of course they would be. Still reeling from the shock of it all, it took Ardwin a good minute or so to soak in everything that’d just happened to him and muster a response. Ultimately, he felt the best he could offer was a reiteration of what the question he’d asked to begin with. “What the fuck?” [h2]”I GAVE YOU YOUR WISH.”[/h2] Even though Ardwin had been expecting, practically demanding a response, the powerful tones of the voice still managed to catch him off guard. He tensed up for a second, feeling very much like a deer in headlights, before recovering and pushing himself onto his feet. Though he tried to look indignant, the way he stumbled forward as he adjusted to the shifted balance of his new body undid much of that affectation. “What do you mean?” Ardwin shouted, glaring daggers into the air around him out of a lack of anything to direct his rage at specifically. “This isn’t even close to what I asked for! At all!” Ardwin paused to allow for a reply. He got nothing but silence, broken only by the buzz of insects in the woods surrounding him. “Oh, come on!” Ardwin snapped, though just under his anger was a distinct undercurrent of desperation. “What do you [i]mean?[/i] What [i]are[/i] you, even?” His words steadily rose in volume and pitch as he spoke, but even when he finished on what was practically a shriek, there was no response. Ardwin did wait for one. He stood there for a full minute, ready to unleash the full extent of the venom filling him as soon as he picked up on the slightest hint of the presence of his... assailant? Could what he’d gone through really be classified as an attack? Whatever it was, Ardwin didn’t like it, and he was good and ready to demonstrate the extent of that dislike. But he didn’t get the chance. Whatever creature it was that’d done this to him, it was well and gone. Without anything to direct his anger towards, there was nothing to keep Ardwin from collapsing in on himself. He staggered backwards until he felt himself bump against the same tree he’d been up against at the start of everything. Now, though, he couldn’t get his back flush against it like he had back then—the horn jutting out behind him made sure of that. So in lieu of sliding down its trunk, Ardwin just dropped down to the ground, curling his head into his knees and huddling up into a ball at its roots. He was a pokémon now. All evidence he had that he’d ever been human was either in the pockets of his pants or back at his apartment. The former had apparently just been phased out of existence, and the latter meant a trip through town if he wanted even a chance at getting it. Ardwin wasn’t about to risk it; he knew a town didn’t manage to hold its own with a wilderness teeming with hungry pokémon just outside it unless it was good and well able to deal with them. He reached up and cupped his face in his hands. Arceus, what was he going to do? Who could he go to for help, how could he even [i]begin[/i] to— Ardwin’s train of thought was interrupted when he felt his fingers glance across something: bangs. Apparently, in spite of how it’d changed every other part of him, whatever he’d encountered had apparently seen fit to allow him to keep his hair. It certainly didn’t make him feel any better, but all the same, he couldn’t help but let out a single, humourless bark of laughter. At least he still had that. --- Ardwin cracked his eyes open, and the day greeted him by having a ray of sunshine ready to shine directly into them. He groaned and raised an arm to cover his face. The sky was clear, the birds were shining, and the fact that all of it combined to form an unseasonably temperate, perfect day felt like a slight against him personally. Ardwin didn’t want it to be a nice day. He wanted it to be grey, cloudy, and dismal, because that was exactly how he felt at that moment. It was technically was his first day as a pokémon, seeing as how he’d been changed (Ardwin was making a effort not to use the word ‘transform’; he felt it gave his situation a sense of permanency when he dearly hoped it would turn out to be temporary) the night before. With how exhausted he was, though, it felt like far longer. The memories of that evening still rolled around in his head, sharp and intense. Given a distinct lack of options as to how he should react, Ardwin had ended up spending about two or three hours post-change just loitering around, trying to think of what he should do. He didn’t concoct any game-changing plans in that time, but all that mental labour did wind up making him far hungrier than he’d expected. Well, that and the fact that he hadn’t eaten dinner before he went out, as his plan was to cook it when he got back and not have his identity ripped away from him by some mystical force. Regardless of what his plans were, though, Ardwin had to deal with the reality of the situation. He was alone in the wilderness, and without any obvious way to get back home and into his pantry, he’d have to learn how to acquire food for himself. Wild pokémon seemed to have no trouble doing it, so how hard could it be? The answer was ‘very’. Ardwin had absolutely no experience with foraging. While he was sure there were plenty of rough-and-tumble people out there whose parents had taught them how to hunt, fish, camp, and generally survive with nothing more than grit and a good knife, his had not. Prior to that moment, the closest thing to a survival situation he’d experienced was running out of gas twenty minutes from the nearest station, and that was in the middle of a suburb. He did, however, know that oran berries were local to the region. It was probably the only bit of relevant knowledge he had, and it came solely from a billboard proclaiming his town’s oran berries to be the ‘best in the world’. He didn’t know what authority had determined that, and he didn’t even like oran berries that much to begin with. Still, they were supposedly present, and he was pretty sure they didn’t have any poisonous look alikes. So he started poking around in the bushes surrounding the area. He didn’t venture too far out, though, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe out of some sense of familiarity. When he was there within eyeshot of the trail he’d come in on, he knew exactly where he was. But there were no oran berries there, and it wasn’t doing him any good to stick around a path that he couldn’t even use for fear of being seen by the outside world. At some point, he was going to have to go out into the wilderness proper. So, after a good thirty minutes of hemming, hawing, and searching bushes that had long since been proven to be picked clean, Ardwin mustered the courage to venture deeper into the forest to find something to eat. It was then that Ardwin learned that he was not built for the stealth that a nocturnal pokémon required. Even with his newly improved vision, Ardwin found himself stumbling over roots and plants that he couldn’t see in the dark. That meant he was making a whole lot of noise. With all the snapping branches and muffled curses, it seemed that the only reason he hadn’t been eaten by some slavering predator was because all the noise had them convinced he was one himself. No prey would be so brazenly inconsiderate of their own safety, after all. Not being eaten didn’t stop the experience from sucking. The whole thing was an exercise in painful thorn pricks and mosquito bites, and the only reason he hadn’t stubbed every one of his toes was on account of a lack thereof. But as luck would have it, his search bore fruit in the most literal sense. He pushed his way past a cluster of trees, and there it was, leaves glistening in the light of the moon like a gift from Lunala herself: an oran berry. Ardwin let out a sigh of relief—one which was sucked back up just as quick as he’d released it, given how hard he was breathing from stomping through the underbrush for so long, but a sigh all the same. He rushed forward as best as he cold, hindered only slightly by his aching feet. As soon as he was within range to do so, he wasted no time in plucking one of the berries off the bush and popping it into his mouth. His teeth sunk into it, and his tongue was awash in the sweet, tangy flavour of oran. He normally wouldn’t have cared for it very much, but when faced with true hunger, one’s tastes and preferences tended to rapidly simplify into “anything edible”. Ardwin’s hands became a blur as he started picking berries as fast as he could manage, his speed limited only by the time it took to shove them into his mouth. He crammed them past his lips three at a time, until his cheeks bulged with all the fruit he’d packed into them. As it turned out, survival worked up a considerable appetite, particularly when you weren’t very good at it. And no doubt Ardwin would’ve continued to gorge himself to his heart’s content, were it up to him. It was hard to think of a single thing that could dissuade him from satisfying his frankly ravenous hunger. But, against all odds, something did. His hands came to a halt, and if he had ears, he probably would’ve cocked one. There was a growl coming from behind him. Ardwin gulped, and this time, the swallowing of the berries in his mouth was an entirely unintended consequence. Did he turn around? He had to turn around, right? He couldn’t just let a wild pokémon sit behind him with clear hostile intent. Or would turning around be taken as a challenge? No, not turning around would be a sign of weakness, making him easy prey. No choice, then. Slowly, with wide eyes and a face streaked with berry juice, Ardwin turned around. He was met with the sight of a nidorina, barely coming up to the height of his knees, staring up at him with the snarliest look he’d ever seen on a pokémon. While what he was looking at was undeniably a dangerous pokémon, just as capable of taking him down as something three times its size would be, Ardwin couldn’t help but feel very... unintimidated. The thing was just so [i]small.[/i] How much of a threat could she really pose? He was a pokémon, too, after all. Even without training, he could probably do some damage. Besides, she was probably more afraid of him than he was of her, wasn’t she? Ardwin heard the sound of rustling leaves, even though the nidorina he was looking at was standing completely still. The bushes behind her parted as another nidorina emerged, identical to the first in every respect, including anger. Then another. And another. And two more. Then the last. Surrounded by a group of thoroughly pissed, extremely poisonous pokémon as he was, Ardwin began to get the sinking feeling that he was, in fact, more afraid of the nidorina than they were of him. Ardwin had never ran so fast in his entire life, let alone right after a meal. He spun around on his heels and broke into a dead sprint, trying to ignore the sloshing in his gut as he instead put his focus into increasing the distance between himself and the swarm of nidorina behind him. Nidorina which, he was very aware, had just begun to shriek. His memories from that point onward were something of a haze. He mostly remembered running a whole lot. He ran until he could feel the oran he’d eaten threatening to come back up, his lungs burned in his chest, and every muscle in his pair of new, slender legs felt like it was about to peel off of his bones. He ran until his mind shut down, and there was nothing but the panicked firing of a hindbrain desperate for survival. Which brought him to the present moment. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but judging by the fact that he hadn’t woken up dead, he must’ve at some point. His calves felt like slabs of roast beef, but he was alive. Vaguely, anyway. That left him with the newest physical demand he had to satisfy: he was thirsty. Ignoring the complaints of his body as he pushed himself to his feet, Ardwin stumbled off in search of water. --- Thirsty turned out to be too light a term to describe his state. “Parched” would probably be more accurate, but “dangerously dehydrated” might’ve been closer. Thankfully, when he pulled his face up out of the puddle he’d been drinking from, panting and gasping for breath after drinking long and deep, that situation was at least somewhat improved. Ardwin stared down at his reflection in the water, and a fresh wave of awareness of the fact that he was a pokémon washed over him. It was unpleasant, but he was getting somewhat used to the thought. What he was more concerned with was as to whether or not his guts were gonna start rotting. Did pokémon even get waterborne diseases? The question made Ardwin pause for a moment before he figured it was far too late to care, then lowered his head down for another drink. Only when he was running the risk of sucking up clods of dirt did Ardwin finally relent, pushing himself up to his feet before walking off in a random direction that seemed vaguely promising. The time that walk took provided Ardwin his first opportunity for clear thought in around twelve hours. That wasn’t because he’d satisfied any of his bodily needs—he felt a good three hours short of being rested and he could already feel last night’s meal starting to wear thin—but he was no longer about to keel over from hunger or exhaustion, which was the best he was going to get. He needed some sort of plan, that was for sure. The problem was coming up with one, or even putting down precisely what he was [i]trying[/i] to accomplish. Did he just try to live in the wild from here on out? He didn’t think he could do that. He didn’t [i]want[/i] to do that. Ardwin sighed, slumping against the side of a nearby tree. “Rufus, did you hear that?” Ardwin jolted upright. That was a voice. A human voice. He’d hardly gotten over that initial shock when it struck him, and it was so obvious that it made Ardwin feel like an idiot for not realising it before. If he just talked to a single person, one on one, there was no chance of him getting into trouble with Pokémon Control. He’d be able to talk to them, and once he had his foot in the door, he could get some real help. Ardwin wasn’t sure what that help would consist of, but anything was better than living how he was. ‘Giddy’ was the last thing Ardwin would’ve guessed if asked how he thought he’d end up feeling that day, but hell if it wasn’t how he felt right then. Giddy and anxious. The thought of having someone else know what he’d become was somehow... unappealing. But he wasn’t going to let some completely unwarranted sense of insecurity stop him from helping himself. Taking a deep breath, Ardwin started moving towards the source of the voice. It didn’t take long to find it. Ardwin saw that dead ahead, just past a cluster of bushes, was a trainer. Judging by the designer-looking outfit and belt loaded with poké balls, he was an experienced one, too. That impression was only strengthened by the midnight lycanroc standing alert at his side, a rare pokémon in the region—which no doubt meant a hefty investment to get his hands on it. That was good. He wasn’t dealing with some country poacher, then. Ardwin couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the bushes and out into the open air. “Hey!” Ardwin shouted, immediately catching the attention of the two of them. “You gotta help me! I went out last night for a walk and this weird voice talked to me and now I’m a pokémon and Idon’tknowwhattodooooooo!” Ardwin only stopped when he was physically unable to keep speaking. He stood there, panting to catch his breath, while the trainer and lycanroc stared at him with alternate expressions of surprise and suspicion. A good ten seconds passed before the trainer spoke. “Woah, cool shiny! Rufus, use takedown!” Ardwin didn’t even have the opportunity to look shocked before a red and white blur was streaking towards him. It slammed into his side with enough force to drive the air from his lungs and send him sprawling to the ground. His vision was still spinning when a crimson light shot out towards him. Then, everything went black. --- Things didn’t stop being black when Ardwin regained awareness, though the darkness of unconsciousness did give way to the blankness of what appeared to be a very well-lit void. A void that afforded him a surprising amount of buoyancy, too, considering he was floating in it instead of plummeting endlessly. It didn’t take him long to work out that he was in a poké ball, but honestly, he didn’t mind the fact too much. It felt comfortable, and time passed at a pleasantly muddy pace that was impossible to keep track of. It figured that poké balls would be designed to keep their occupants docile. There would probably be a whole lot more dissatisfied pokémon and hospitalized trainers otherwise. He wasn’t sure how long he was in there for. Could’ve been hours, could’ve been days. Probably not weeks, though. Ardwin’s sense of time felt addled, but not [i]that[/i] addled. However long it was, it did eventually come to an end. His comfortable floating was brought to an end by the feeling of something pulling him upwards, enveloping him in a steadily brightening red light. Then, just as that light reached its brightest point, that pulling was replaced by gravity kicking in without warning. The light dissipated, and through the lens of intense vertigo, Ardwin saw that he was now in what appeared to be the living room of a house. He also realised he was staggering forward and about to become intimately familiar with the floor at very high speeds. He was only saved from flopping face-first into the admittedly nice looking carpet by a pair of clawed hands grabbing him by the sides, steadying him with an ease that spoke of enormous strength. Out of some measure of curiosity, a larger amount of fear, but mostly out of an instinctual reaction that was greater than either, Ardwin looked up at who it was who’d caught him. Those hands were attached to a pair of arms longer and lankier than their power indicated, and following the path of the red fur covering them, Ardwin’s gaze finally settled upon the face of their owner. Two eyes glowing an ominous crimson stared down at him, set above a muzzle twisted into a serious looking frown. A midnight lycanroc. If Ardwin remembered correctly, his name was Rufus, though his memory was somewhat suspect on account of being slammed into the ground shortly after he first met the pokémon now keeping him from face planting into the floor. Very different forms of greeting. His feelings towards the pokémon holding him were similarly out of place. First and foremost was a sense of all-consuming, unfocused panic. Whatever soothing effect the poké ball might’ve had on him had disappeared, leaving in its place a manic, primal confusion, like a monkey alone in the cockpit of an airplane with just enough awareness of its situation to know that everything was horribly, horribly wrong. All of that was perfectly natural. To be expected, even. What was off about the way he felt was twofold: first was that, in spite of the fact that he felt like he was about to fly off the handle, he just... wasn’t. The second thing at play was similar, but slightly different. Instead of feeling an emotion that he couldn’t express, it was knowing he should be feeling something while, at the same time, not feeling it. Even in the midst of what was veering dangerously close to a total emotional breakdown, Ardwin realised that he really ought to be mad at the lycanroc, but he was very much not. In fact, hanging there in Rufus’ grip gave him a strange feeling of stability. It didn’t calm any of the emotions raging inside of him, but it seemed to freeze them in place, though even he couldn’t pin down whether that was due to any sort of comfort or just some deep seated fear at being held in the claws of such a menacing predator. Whatever its cause, the effect lasted as long as their eyes remained locked on each other’s, deep orange staring into glowing red. Until Rufus evidently got tired of holding him and, with a grunt of annoyance, hauled Ardwin back up and dropped him onto his feet. Thankfully, he had enough awareness to avoid immediately crumpling into a heap, and the drop helped jolt him back to his senses. Which was to say, plunged him right back into utter panic. He swung his head from side to side, taking in as much of his surroundings as he could while his mind scrambled to put together a plan of escape. Indoors, as he’d already established. Colours seemed to be predominantly white and tan, yet things still managed to appear spotless. Furniture was that blend of simple design and precision craftsmanship that screamed ‘expensive’. Right, rich trainer, he knew that already. Yet more evidence of that was surrounding him and looking at him in the form of three pokémon. The lycanroc was one, of course, but standing a few feet away on either side of him were a zoroark and a dragonair. Their expressions were not nearly so nasty as their wolfish companion. Both seemed to be regarding him rather coolly, though only the dragonair’s seemed to be legitimately relaxed. The zoroark seemed more like he was sizing him up. Having all three of them surrounding and scrutinizing him at once made him feel like a rat in a corner, which was markedly worse than the feeling of being a gardevoir in a ball. Feeling the burn of adrenaline growing increasingly hot in his veins, Ardwin shot a glance over his shoulder, and was not at all put at ease by the sight of yet another pair of eyes on him. This time, they belonged to a human. It was the same one who’d caught him, and now that Ardwin was seeing him in the warm glow of an incandescent bulb instead of dim moonlight, he was able to make out his features a good deal better. He had a remarkably fair complexion, the lightness of his skin marred only by the smattering of freckles across his face and arms. They matched quite nicely with the mass of fiery orange hair on top of his head, drawn back behind him in a ponytail. And his body, slender without sacrificing an ounce of curves, reminded Ardwin a bit of himself. Well, his former self, anyway. Apart from the clothes, of course, but that went without saying. Better clothes came part and parcel with having fuck-around money. “Um, hello,” he said, giving a wave that involved far too much individual finger movement for Ardwin’s liking. “I’m your trainer, Darrell.” Ardwin didn’t even turn around fully, just stood there looking back over his shoulder and stared. Trapped, rooted to the spot, unable to move even if he wanted to. Meaningless thoughts flashed through his mind one after another, like his brain was sorting through every last shred of the information overloading him in search of something that would help. He had a trainer now. That trainer’s name was Darrell. He’d sometimes wondered what it would be like to be a pokémon as a child, but in those idle fantasies, he’d never once imagined having a trainer named Darrell. Terrible name. Bad, bad name. Awful. “And, uh,” Darrell continued, shifting around a bit in clear discomfort from the look Ardwin was giving him, “that’s Cecil!” Darrell pointed forward, and Ardwin’s eyes followed the path of his finger like they were on rails all the way to the dragonair. The dragon looked right back at him and, when their eyes met, gave him a slight nod. The wings on the sides of his head gave a single flap as he did so. “The other one’s Renoir,” Darrell said. “The zoroark, I mean. The lycanroc is Rufus. You might, uh, already know that. From the fight. Eheh.” That comment made Ardwin twitch slightly, but he bit back a shriek and instead turned his attention to Renoir. The zoroark’s lips were already pulled back in a big smile that, from the amount of fangs it exposed, gave an impression that was something less than friendly. It didn’t seem like he was going to try to tear Ardwin’s face off or anything so violent, though Ardwin shrank back all the same. He took a step towards Darrell that the trainer didn’t acknowledge, probably taking it as a sign of friendliness towards him instead of the gesture of fear that it truly was. “And I was thinking of a name for you, while you were, y’know.” Darrell waved his hands through the air whenever he paused, like he was trying to coax the words out of his own mouth. “In the ball. I was thinking that I could call you Bleu, cause you’re, uh. Blue. You’re good with that, right?” Ardwin whipped around and stared, something that he seemed to be doing a lot of in the past few minutes. It was just as well, given that he didn’t have the words to respond, both figuratively and literally. Clearly, whatever it was that had moved Darrell’s parents to name him Darrell had a genetic component. “Cool!” Darrell said, clapping his hands together. “Uh, jeez, crowding you like this is probably a little overwhelming, isn’t it? Rufus, why don’t you show him around one-on-one? Get him used to stuff.” Rufus gave a nod and, still without uttering a word, walked up and grabbed Ardwin by the wrist. He let out a gasp and stared down at the clawed hand wrapped around his arm, but for all the fear being manhandled like that stoked in him, Ardwin didn’t try to pull away. Partly because he doubted that he would be able to if he tried, partly because of a feeling of meekness. That sort of feeling was to be expected after being thrust into an unfamiliar environment surrounded by strange, powerful pokémon, he supposed. He didn’t like it, but that was just how it was. So Ardwin let Rufus pull him away from the others and towards a hallway on the opposite end of the living room, ignoring the stares boring into his back as he did so—and another of those awful, finger-waggling waves from Darrell that was mercifully blocked from sight as they rounded the corner. --- They walked together in complete quiet. It was a big place, though that fact didn’t come as much of a surprise to Ardwin. Of course the guy lived in a mansion. Everything else about the guy reeked of money, why wouldn’t he have a house the size of a damn apartment complex just for him and his pets? Before Ardwin could start fuming about that, or think about the implications of referring to a group that he belonged to as ‘pets’, a voice broke the silence. “You weren’t out in the wild for very long, were you?” He jumped at the sound of it. Deep, husky, and with a slight growl to it as was appropriate, considering who it was coming from. Rufus, that was. The pokémon next to him, somehow communicating in perfectly intelligible sentences. Ardwin reacted in what felt like the most appropriate way possible. “You can talk?” Rufus stopped and stared at him for a moment with the kind of look typically reserved for small and particularly stupid children, then rolled his eyes and kept walking. “I don’t appreciate the smartassery. We don’t talk when Darrell’s talking to us because it’s rude. Can’t understand us.” That— huh. Actually, that did kind of make sense. While Ardwin was still chewing over that tidbit of information, Rufus continued. “And I’m gonna go ahead and say now that I don’t believe any of the stuff you said about being a human. I haven’t told any of the others, but whatever you’re trying to pull, I suggest you drop it now.” Ardwin’s eyes widened. He was flabbergasted; Rufus thought he was trying to pull a trick? How did that make any sense whatsoever? He would have literally nothing to gain by doing that. It didn’t even make sense. Then again, neither did being turned into a pokémon, and he didn’t really have any way of proving his case. Not on hand, anyway. He’d known people, though: coworkers, family, friends. There was no way he could’ve wandered that far from where he lived. If he had some time to think, there had to be something he could use as evidence. But there wasn’t nearly enough time for him to draw any sort of useful conclusion in that area before Rufus made a sharp left turn, leading him by the hand into a room on that side of the hallway. Compared to what he’d seen of the house up to that point, the room was not particularly impressive. The architecture possessed all the quality he’d come to expect, but the furnishings left something to be desired. There were beds. Three of them, to be exact. While they were perfectly fine beds, far better than anything Ardwin himself had ever had the pleasure of sleeping on, the problem was that there was nothing else. Just beds. Considering how spacious the room was, it made things feel empty. “This is the bedroom,” Rufus said. “Bit sparsely furnished, but we don’t spend a lot of time here.” He paused, wrinkling his face. “Well, I don’t, anyway. I can’t speak for Cecil and Renoir.” Ardwin gawped. What did that mean? Was that— no, Rufus meant that they slept in. Obviously. Why would he even think that? Realising that Rufus was looking at him, clearly expecting some sort of acknowledgement, Ardwin closed his jaw and gave a nod. “Oh, uh, ha. Yeah.” Rufus squinted a bit, but went on. “We don’t have a bed ready for you yet, but Darrell’ll probably have that sorted by tomorrow. For tonight, you can just share a bed with me or one of the guys.” Ardwin’s face broke out in a blush that was vibrant and obvious against his pale skin. Share a bed? Arceus, you didn’t just go offering that to someone you barely knew who you’d met by [i]battering them into unconsciousness.[/i] What was wrong with this guy? Why was he still holding Ardwin’s wrist? With awkwardness beating down any thoughts of a coherent response, Ardwin settled for turning his face away. That turned out to be the wrong choice. Letting out a growl of either frustration or annoyance, Rufus yanked on Ardwin’s wrist, jerking his whole body around to face the lycanroc. “What’s wrong with you?” Rufus snapped, moving closer to Ardwin as he spoke. “Why are you so quiet, and awkward, and [i]weird?[/i] Why—” When Rufus got close enough for their bodies to touch, his words suddenly ground to a halt. He looked down, and Ardwin looked at him looking down for a second before looking down himself. Both of them were looking down, each very much aware that the other was looking down at the same thing. There was a bulge in the front of Ardwin’s dress. Rufus let go of his wrist and stepped back, bringing that same hand up to his face to pinch at the bridge of his snout. “Fuck,” he said. Ardwin, for his part, just stood there and tried to endure everything even as he could what felt like the entirety of his blood supply relocating itself to his cheeks. Apart from the amount that was already otherwise occupied, anyway. There really was no rival to the discomfort offered by standing in front of someone so utterly frustrated while simultaneously having an erection. “I...” Rufus trailed off, then let out a sigh. “You can show yourself around, right?” Ardwin, wanting nothing more than to make the situation he was in disappear and also too choked to give a verbal response, offered only a nod. Even as he moved his head, his eyes never left the floor for a second. “Nice. Okay. Great,” Rufus said, spinning around and making a beeline for the hallway. “Bye.” As he stepped out of the room, he let the door swing shut with a slam behind him. Ardwin made his way over to the bed nearest to him, dragging his feet all the way, and dropped down onto its edge. Sitting draped the frills around his waist over his lap, making it easier to ignore the still-present erection raging between his thighs. With nothing else to do, Ardwin focused his efforts on trying not to break into embarrassed tears. He didn’t have much success. --- Trying to find his way around the house turned out to be less of a challenge than expected, even without a guide as he was. It was big, sure, but so were all the important areas—living room, dining room, [i]other[/i] living room, the works. All he had to do was follow the hallways and ignore the dozen smaller sideroom doors along the way, and he’d end up in one of them eventually. At that moment, he was in the kitchen. It’d been long enough for his ‘situation’ to resolve itself, so he’d decided to pass the time by sitting at the counter while he methodically devoured an orange. He wasn’t even that hungry, it was just that sitting around eating something felt better than sitting around doing nothing. Then again, he also couldn’t remember the last time he ate, so he probably should’ve felt like he was starving. Ardwin supposed that nervous eating was acceptable if he was using it to compensate for an appetite that’d been thoroughly destroyed by stress and anxiety. Though all that stress didn’t seem to be impacting other parts of his functioning, as demonstrated earlier. Ardwin was trying very much not to think about that. Every time his thoughts wandered back to what had happened in the bedroom, he cringed. So when he heard someone approaching from behind, Ardwin welcomed it. Anything to get his mind away from what it’d been dwelling on for the past half-hour. Especially since the sounds weren’t footsteps, but more a heavy slithering, meaning there was no way it could be Rufus. “S’up?” Ardwin looked back over his shoulder. The dragonair. Cecil, if Ardwin remembered correctly. He usually didn’t have a great memory for names or great retention in general when he was continually teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown, but his recall seemed to be perfect as of late. Must’ve been a gardevoir thing. He pushed away that line of thought before he got bogged down in thoughts of his new body and instead focused on swallowing down the mouthful of orange he’d been chewing so that he could speak. “Hey.” Cecil walked— slithered over, then took— well, he didn’t take a seat, because he didn’t really have the body for it. He did place himself in a spot beside Ardwin’s stool, though. “You alright?” Cecil asked. No. “Yes.” “Cool,” Cecil said, flicking his tail. “Rufus been treating you alright?” Absolutely not. “Uh, yeah.” Cecil scoffed, the most expressive sound Ardwin had heard him make yet. “Don’t take it personal. He’s like that with everyone. Always tryin’ to be hard.” Ardwin turned his eyes away at the word hard, thankfully managing to suppress a cringe. “Eheh. Yup.” “Mmm.” Cecil sat—stood?—there a moment, watching Ardwin stare down at the half-eaten orange in his hands. “Wanna fuck?” Ardwin was thankful that he hadn’t been eating right then, because he probably would’ve choked. Instead, he just dropped his orange onto the counter and spun around on his seat to face Cecil, eyes bulging. It took effort to keep from shouting when he spoke. “What?” “We’re pretty tight knit around here,” Cecil said, continuing on as if propositioning what was essentially a complete strange for sex was the most normal thing in the world. “Get up to that kinda stuff all the time. Well, me and Renoir, anyway. Not so much Rufus.” Ardwin spluttered, completely taken aback. “I don’t— what—” Cecil wasn’t even slowed by Ardwin’s floundering attempts to string together a sentence. He just kept going as calmly as ever, now sliding up closer to him on top of it all. “You’re from the wild, right? Only reason I feel comfortable asking. Can’t be a prude out in the sticks.” If it was the only reason, it had to be a damned good one in his mind. Cecil didn’t seem even the slightest bit phased or insecure about making such a personal request. In fact, he was— Ardwin sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. Touching him. Cecil was touching him, having dipped his head down into Ardwin’s lap, where it was currently rubbing against him. His muzzle was pressing with a level of force that was clearly more than exploratory, right over top of his... suddenly twitching member, protected only by the thin barrier his skirt provided. “[/b]UM.[/b]” Ardwin still couldn’t quite form anything that could even generously be described as a sentence, but he hoped that a noise with sufficient emotional force behind it would be enough to get across what he wanted to convey. He even braced his hands against Cecil’s head for good measure, just to add that physical element to his message. But the dragonair didn’t seem to care for any of it, easily nosing his way past the frankly feeble attempts Ardwin was making to push him away. Hell, maybe he didn’t even recognize that was what they were. As much as he disliked what was happening to him, Ardwin hadn’t put in nearly as much effort to shove Cecil away as the situation warranted. Why was that? “You smell good,” Cecil said, finally pulling his head out from Ardwin’s lap and his muzzle away from the now quite prominent bulge in his dress. Oh, that was just weird. Ardwin didn’t like that at all. Even creeped out as he was, though, the situation between his legs hadn’t been impacted in the slightest. He still didn’t know why. Sure, he thought dragonair were just as cool as the next guy—they were dragons, after all—but he had never been [i]attracted[/i] to them. Not since he became a gardevoir, anyway. Now, just being touched by one had him getting heated. Arceus, what had happened to him? If he didn’t already know the answer, Cecil wasn’t going to give him any time to think about it. He moved in a quick circle around Ardwin’s stool before, in what seemed like a complete defiance of physics, he began to ascend. Ardwin glanced down, saw that the dragonair’s body had completely lost contact with the ground, then took a solid five seconds to gawp before his brain processed what he was seeing. Right. Dragonair. They could float. Damn, they were cool. By the time he’d gotten a handle on that, Cecil had spiralled up a solid five feet—and when Ardwin looked up, he realised that new position left a very particular part of the dragon’s body positioned right at his eye level. Ardwin, as seemed to be becoming his go-to response to all social situations, stared. The white underbelly of the dragonair was smooth, seamless—apart from the one area Ardwin was staring at. In that spot, there was just the slightest feature to break up that endlessly stretching plain of white: a slit. A slit that was becoming increasingly visible amongst its surroundings as it was spread open by a pink tip pushing its way out into the air. “Like what you see?” Cecil said, voice coming from a point distressingly close to Ardwin’s ear, breath washing against the back of his neck. No. “Yes.” Wait, fuck. “Nice.” Cecil tightened his coils, bringing himself close enough to Ardwin that he could feel the smoothness of the dragon’s body rubbing against the back of his head—which also left his face practically buried in Cecil’s slit, only an inch or two away from touching it outright. He was close enough to smell it, now. The scent wasn’t overpowering, Cecil having only just begun to emerge from his slit, but it was definitely present. Even those slight whiffs of it he got were sharp, cutting their way through his nostrils with even the slightest inhale. The smell wasn’t unpleasant, just... very much how he’d expect a dragon to smell, he supposed. Spicy, leaving a slight tingling in his sinuses, as if his scent carried that domineering, draconic aspect that his personality seemed to lack, demanding respect and submission. Arceus, he was monologuing. Ardwin needed to put a stop to things before they got any more out of hand. “Uh, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this in the kitchen?” Ardwin said, voice cracking partway through the sentence for added embarrassment factor, as if having a dragon cock steadily sliding out towards his face wasn’t enough. “Nah, it’s fine,” Cecil said. “The other guys stepped out. They aren’t gonna be back for, like thirty minutes.” Ardwin groaned. Well, so much for that idea. There wasn’t enough time to think up an excuse even half as good as the awful one he’d already tried before Cecil’s maleness, having finally slipped out far enough from his slit, pressed up against Ardwin’s face. When he felt that hot, slick flesh press against his lips, his first instinct was to suck a sharp breath through his nose. That turned out to be a mistake. The scent of dragon musk, made significantly more potent from having its source rubbing directly below his nostrils, hit him with all the force of a haymaker. Cogent thought failed him, and raw sensation stepped in to fill the gap. Warm. Male. Dragon. Need. Whose? “If you could open your mouth, that’d be cool,” Cecil said, grinding himself against Ardwin’s face as he spoke. Ardwin didn’t want to do that for reasons he hoped didn’t require explanation. At the same time, though, he found himself giving the dragonair’s words some serious consideration. It had to be something to do with the musk polluting every breath he took, or some effect of the changes he’d undergone that he’d only just then discovered—there was no way he’d be giving it a second thought otherwise. Yet despite that, the line of thought that had sprouted up in his mind was rather convincing. What if he did what Cecil was asking? It wasn’t as if Ardwin was any stranger to sex. Maybe not with a pokémon, sure, but that was another thing: he was a pokémon now, too, however he felt about the fact. That meant that fooling around with one was just as normal as fooling around with humans had been back when he was... well, human. The whole thing just felt like an excuse, but at the same time, he couldn’t find a single fault in the logic of it. And, on a less than logical note, he could feel himself throbbing with need under his dress and drool starting to build up behind his still firmly sealed lips. For whatever reason, he wanted this, and seeing as how things had already gone as far as they had... Slowly, Ardwin let his lips part and his jaw fall open. Cecil made no move to take advantage just yet, instead choosing to maintain his position wrapped around Ardwin’s head while he took things at his own pace. Ardwin was grateful for that fact, because even having his mouth open next to Cecil’s shaft felt like a huge step. He could feel the heat radiating off of it, swore he could taste it the slightest bit when he took a breath through his mouth. Those kinds of breaths were becoming increasingly frequent as Ardwin’s chest rose and fell faster, increasingly in speed until he was practically panting, taking in great lungfuls of the dragon’s scent. He was going to need to take things further, though, to avoid awkwardness if nothing else—though at that point, there were definitely reasons he was doing what he was doing that were more than mere social obligation. So, before higher thought could kick in and run the risk of stopping him, Ardwin let his tongue slip out and pressed it against the underside of Cecil’s shaft. His patience finally rewarded, Cecil let out a sigh as he finally felt the soft pressure of Bleu’s tongue against him. Oh, things were moving slow, but they were coming along. Nobody ever recognized him for it, but Cecil really thought he had a gift for socializing. Come at things from the right angle, be a little blunt and forward where it was called for, and you could find yourself in all sorts of fun situations with someone. Cecil loved meeting new people. He let out a croon of pleasure as he felt Bleu’s tongue drag up along his length in a slow, uncertain lick, which was quickly followed by another that showed a good deal more confidence. He couldn’t wait to meet Bleu even better. Get to know him on an even deeper level. Ardwin’s eyes shot open as Cecil’s body shifted around his head, creating just enough space between his face and the dragon’s body to bring the tip of his cock into alignment with his lips. Then, he just as swiftly took that space back in one sharp movement, sinking himself halfway into Ardwin’s mouth in the process. Ardwin could feel the head of Cecil’s cock press against the entrance to his throat, and struggled not to gag. Cecil gave him the time he needed to adjust; he had no desire to make things unpleasant for either of them, after all. He just wanted to keep things moving along. And that had certainly been accomplished. After a brief pause to collect himself, Ardwin threw himself into things with a vigour that surprised both of them—though perhaps Cecil slightly less so. He simply wasn’t given to surprise, and besides, he had a sense for when pokémon were the type who needed to [i]get it.[/i] Bleu definitely fell into that category; Cecil could feel him take another inch of his shaft into his throat without even batting an eye, a complete face turn from the shy, reluctant face he’d been putting up before. Was that just an act? If so, Cecil was impressed. He could appreciate a good performance, almost as much as he could appreciate getting his dick sucked. But Ardwin knew that it wasn’t an act, which meant that the ease and confidence with which he was deepthroating Cecil would’ve confused him were his attention not solely focused on doing it to the best of his ability. It was like he’d been possessed. Sure, he’d heard of getting lost in the moment, but this was on another level entirely. He hadn’t even thought of himself as particularly great at blowjobs, but here he was taking a dragonair into his throat—which, considering the size difference, was nothing to scoff at. But of course, he wasn’t really thinking about any of that, except for maybe that last part about the dick in his throat. That was definitely taking up a lot of his mental bandwidth. The erection in his lap was definite proof of that, still raging even as it was ignored by the both of them. Ardwin did occasionally rub at it with one hand, though he went no further than that, unable to spare the attention to do so when he was so fixed on servicing the dragonair to the best of his surprisingly capable abilities. Every time he swallowed, Ardwin could feel his throat constrict around the cock inside it, milking a spurt of pre out of Cecil that travelled right past his tongue and directly into his stomach. Each time that happened, he could feel the heat of it sliding down into his belly, filling him with its warmth. It was a shame that he didn’t get to taste it, but that was fine. His tongue made up for it with its work along the underside of Cecil’s shaft, lapping at it, enervating his taste buds with a non-stop barrage of the dragon’s flavour. Whenever he managed to sneak in a breath through his nose, he was subject to a wave of the dragonair’s scent and flavour so powerful that he couldn’t help but shudder—though the reaction was difficult to notice when he was already shaking, overwhelmed by what was happening to him even as he helped it along with expert use of his mouth, tongue, and throat. Cecil would’ve been perfectly content to stay in that position, leisurely humping away at Bleu’s face while the gardevoir did his best to pleasure him, but he had other plans in mind. No, whenever it was his first time with a partner, he preferred to do something that both of them would get a kick out of. Something a bit more... involved, to make sure he left the best first impression that he could. So, without a word of warning, Cecil widened the circle his body had formed around Ardwin, pulling his cock free from the gardevoir’s mouth with a pop. That noise was quickly followed by a gasp as Ardwin made use of the opportunity to completely fill his lungs for the first time in several minutes, and right after that, a whine of disappointment at being given the opportunity to do so. Cecil let out an amused huff through his nostrils. He’d clocked the gardevoir as the demure bottom type, but he didn’t think it was to this extent. Well, that just meant he was going to enjoy what was next that much more. “Hold onto somethin’,” Cecil said, and Ardwin had only just enough time to wrap his arms around the dragonair’s body before Cecil was weaving through the air, effortlessly moving both his and Ardwin’s combined weight even higher into the air. The height of the ceiling meant that ended up being a surprisingly impressive height. Ardwin looked down at the floor beneath him. With him turned sideways as he was, it had to be a good five or six feet away, more than enough to ensure a good bruising if he fell. But he wasn’t worried about that happening; Cecil’s body had wrapped around him like a snake, ensuring that there was no way Ardwin would slip free. His lack of fear was less to do with any sense of security Cecil’s grip offered, though, and more to do with the fact that his attention was entirely preoccupied with the feeling of the dragon’s cock pressing against his rear. “You ever done this before?” Cecil asked. “Yeah,” Ardwin breathed, and recognized a second too late that right then was probably not the best time to start employing a policy of honesty. “Sweet,” Cecil said. “Not gonna beat around the bush, then.” Ardwin felt the coils wrapped around his chest tighten while the ones around his waist and legs loosened simultaneously, providing Cecil with the room he needed to move himself into position. Ardwin felt the dragonair’s cock drag a slick trail from his tailbone down along the crack of his ass, a mixture of the saliva he’d coated it with and Cecil’s own pre, drooling down along his shaft and onto his skin in a non-stop stream. It didn’t take long for him to reach his goal. Within seconds, Cecil had himself aligned, the tip of his cock butting up against the entrance to Ardwin’s entrance. Ardwin felt a particularly strong spurt of pre gush against him and drool down along his taint, and shuddered at the sensation. Though not for long. True to his word, Cecil was wasting no time, and the feeling of pressure mounting against his backside as the dragonair shifted forward had Ardwin stiffening up. He was tense, both from somehow being cajoled into being fucked by a pokémon and the fact that he was hovering at a height normally reserved for chandeliers. But he could already feel that no amount of tension his muscles could muster would be enough to keep Cecil out. The dragon’s equipment had a natural taper to it, and combined with the generous lubrication—which Ardwin had assisted in providing, his brain reminded him—it was no contest. It was as if the dragonair was purpose built for this kind of situation. Given the speed and ease with which he’d managed to get himself wrapped around Ardwin, that premise wasn’t hard to believe. It was at once a contest of wills and physical strength, and even if he’d wanted to, Ardwin had no hope of coming out on top. A few seconds of pushing later, both of them felt Ardwin’s body finally part to accept Cecil, allowing the first inch of the dragonair to enter him. Ardwin sucked in a breath through his teeth, while at the same time, Cecil let out a trill of satisfaction. For Cecil, that was just the first step. For Ardwin, it felt like the whole damn marathon. Again, no stranger to sex, very much a stranger to sex with something the size of a dragonair, particularly when he wasn’t nearly as relaxed as he usually would be in such a situation. But Cecil’s solution to that problem, as it was to a great many things, was just to keep going until things worked. This was an excellent strategy when you were not the one being penetrated. Ardwin, however, was forming a different philosophy as he was subject to several inches of dragonair cock being crammed into him at a pace that might not have seemed fast to an outside observer, but one that Ardwin would nonetheless describe as ‘gruelling’. Or perhaps that was too generous. He probably would’ve described it with the same sound he made when Cecil had managed to fit half of his length inside of him: a half-moan, half-groan that sounded something like “nyuyhgghgh.” Though while it was quite a stretch and more than a little uncomfortable, Ardwin wasn’t feeling any sort of tearing, and the trunk of Cecil’s body was pressed against his ass in record time as he took the last few inches of what the dragonair had to offer. Huh. He knew pokémon were made of sterner stuff, but for some reason, he’d never thought of that fact in relation to himself... or what it meant in regards to situations like these. He wouldn’t need to think about it, either. Cecil seemed intent on giving him a more practical lesson. Not two seconds had passed after their bodies made contact before he was pulling back, treating Ardwin to all the same sensations he’d experienced in reverse, still at the same steady pace. “How ya likin’ it?” Cecil asked. Ardwin gasped and coughed in response. Judging by the way the gardevoir’s dick was throbbing against his coils, though, Cecil took it as the positive kind of gasp-cough. Which meant he had full leave to pick up the pace, and Cecil would never turn down that kind of opportunity. So Ardwin was again subjected to an increase in intensity that only didn’t make him scream because it forced him to focus all the energy that it would require to do so on maintaining his breathing. It was ridiculous. Cecil seemed to be exerting all the energy of someone on a brisk walk, while Ardwin felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He was certainly close to coming in some fashion. In spite of everything he was being put through, his erection hadn’t wavered for a moment. More because of, really. Every time he felt Cecil bottom out inside him, his cock jumped, oozing a spurt of pre across the dragonair’s body that smeared across the both of them with every movement. His groin was well and soaked with the stuff, and there was no way of telling just how much he’d soaked Cecil with. From the wet sounds of his coils sliding against themselves, though, he had a pretty good idea. It was too much. It was too fast. He had far too little say in how it went. And, above all, it was steadily working him up to an orgasm powerful enough to have his brain dribbling out of his ears. ‘Steadily’ wasn’t going to be an accurate term for very long, though; Cecil was continually increasing his pace, unsatisfied even with speeds that were enough to leave Ardwin a gasping, whimpering mess. Throughout it all, there was a strangely low amount of sound. The way Cecil was wrapped around Ardwin meant little noise whenever he thrust in. No loud slapping, only the shifting of coils against coils against skin, heavy breathing, and whatever high noises Ardwin had to contribute. Considering how many of those he was making, it almost compensating for the relative silence. “Hey,” Cecil said, sounding only the slightest bit out of breath. “You cool with kissing?” Ardwin, dimly processing the question in a part of his brain currently overwhelmed by the sensations of the most intense fucking he’d ever experienced, responded as best as he was able. “Whuh?” “Sweet.” Cecil’s voice had shifted from the back of Ardwin’s head around to the side, and his unfocused vision was immediately brought back to full sharpness as a white horned head rounded the corner of his vision and came face to face with him. Ardwin shared a look with Cecil, his eyes half-lidded and watery, the dragonair’s cool and even. He’d never really gotten a chance to [i]see[/i] the dragonair before. He’d either been staring down at his hands or down at the floor, only looking at Cecil when he was too taken off guard to really appreciate what he was looking at. But in that moment, he found himself appreciating every detail. Those sky blue scales, brought to a dazzling shine by the lights just a few feet overhead. His eyes, deep and dark, revealing two purple irises only when the light struck them just right. They were gazing into Ardwin’s own, like Cecil was searching for something. Cecil looked [i]good.[/i] Ardwin wasn’t about to fall in love with him or anything, but hell if he didn’t appreciate just how majestic the dragonair looked. He was sure that his own face, all flushed and his eyes half-lidded, wasn’t nearly as entrancing. Just what was Cecil looking at him for? The thought had only just crossed his mind when Cecil’s head shot forward, the dragon’s snout pressing up against Ardwin’s as he locked the two of them into a sudden kiss. Unable to gasp, Ardwin instead sucked in a sharp breath through his nose as he felt Cecil’s tongue press against his lips, finding no resistance to keep it from pushing further and slipping inside the gardevoir’s mouth. Oh, right. That’s what he was looking at him for. Ardwin moaned into Cecil’s muzzle, the sound vibrating around the tongue that was invading his mouth with just as much vigour as the dragonair was invading the opposite end of his body. Ardwin’s own tongue was pushed to the side, alternately ignored as Cecil explored his mouth and given its fair share of attention when Cecil decided to wrestle it with his own. It was insane. Even this one small part of the dragonair was stronger than what Ardwin had to offer, and Cecil was making sure he was aware of it. Every part of him—his limbs wrapped up in Cecil’s coils, his mouth filled with his tongue, the cock pounding in and out of his ass every passing second—was being completely and utterly dominated by the dragon. What was even more insane was just how much Ardwin was loving it. From the moment that tongue had slipped into his mouth, he could [i]feel[/i] himself get more sensitive, cock twitching and throbbing that much more once there was a kiss added on top of everything he was already experiencing. It felt so good, so right, to let himself be used by a bigger, stronger pokémon like this, like nothing more than an outlet for their physical needs. Part of Ardwin was dimly aware that he’d never been quite so invested in that sort of submission before, and that it was odd how fast he’d come around to it the moment pokémon were brought into the equation, but it was overshadowed by the larger part of him that was luxuriating in it all. Why wouldn’t he feel that way? They were hot, and he was so close, and he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he was stuffed full of dragon cum! There was no fear of him being deprived of that; Cecil seemed just as close himself. His thrusting was finally reaching a speed that could be described as fast in its own right and not just to Ardwin, unaccustomed with taking anything of such a size. He still wasn’t anywhere close to becoming familiar with it, meaning the only reason the room wasn’t filled with the sounds of his moans was because they were all muffled by Cecil’s muzzle and the tongue still probing his mouth. Ardwin could feel Cecil’s cock throbbing harder inside of him, thick spurts of pre shot into him and forced out of him at equally fast speeds from the increasingly wild pace of his thrusting. It got everywhere, dripping off his balls, smeared across the backs of his thighs. The sheer amount of it was a testament to just how good he was making Cecil feel, and an indication of just how productive the dragonair was going to be when he [i]really[/i] blew. Ardwin found himself getting more excited by the prospect of his partner’s orgasm than his own. He didn’t have long to wait for it. A few moments of frantic thrusting later, it kicked off, first in the form of a groan from Cecil’s end. It was one of the strongest noises the dragonair had made yet, and just the vibrations it sent through their joined mouths was enough to have a blissful smile spreading across Ardwin’s face. That expression was made complete by his eyes rolling back when, with one final thrust inwards, Cecil reached his peak. A pulse more powerful than anything that’d come before it rolled through Cecil’s cock, and once it reached the tip of his member—buried something just short of a foot inside Ardwin’s body—Ardwin felt the first rope of dragonair seed shoot into him. It was everything he’d anticipated it to be, and more. That first blast alone sent an explosion of warmth blooming from his core outwards, saturating his guts with all the heat a dragon had to offer. That heat was only intensified when another throb of Cecil’s cock brought with it another blast of cum, enough for Ardwin to feel it sloshing around inside of him. As if his own body had been waiting for it, Ardwin found Cecil’s pleasure kicking off his own as well. Letting out a moan into the tongue grappling with his own, Ardwin seized up, inner muscles milking the cock still pumping thick gouts of cum into him, and let loose the first spurt of his orgasm. Thick globs of white drooled out of him and smeared along Cecil’s underbelly—while having an orgasm battered out of his prostate meant his release lacked pressure, it more than made up for it in volume. By the second pulse of his dick, it was already shaping up to be the most he’d ever produced: a thick, steady stream of cum that drooled out of him, rolled down along his shaft, and dripped down onto the scales of the one that’d milked it out of him. While Ardwin wouldn’t have minded being stuck in that moment forever, like all good things, it did eventually come to an end. Once both of them had spent the last of what they had to offer, Cecil broke the kiss joining them, pulling his face away from the gardevoir’s own. Ardwin immediately took the opportunity to gasp for breath, breaking a few of the strings of mixed saliva that connected them together. Then, he went slack, slumping against Cecil’s coils. At the same time, he could feel the dragonair starting to lower the two of them back down towards the ground. Ardwin’s feet touched down onto the floor, but as Cecil continued to go lower, his legs bore none of his weight. Instead, they bent at the knees, folding up beneath him. That continued until, seeing that standing was something that definitely wasn’t going to be happening, Cecil brought Ardwin all the way down until he was half kneeling on the floor, half lying across the dragonair’s body. “Alright, I’m gonna pull out now,” Cecil said. Cecil started pulling himself back. The motion was accompanied by an high keen from Ardwin that only rose in pitch as he felt the dragonair’s cock drag its way back through his body, all the fluid that’d been packed inside him rushing in to fill the empty space it left behind. Ardwin’s whines came to a crescendo when Cecil pulled the final inch of himself free of Ardwin’s body, tugging his shaft free with a wet sounding pop. With nothing to keep it contained, all the seed that had been pumped into him started drooling back out of him, running down his taint and thighs in a thick, white tide. Cecil started disentangling himself from Ardwin, unwrapping himself from around the gardevoir’s body and gently laying him out onto the floor, speaking as he did so. “Ah, fun times. You alright?” Ardwin let out a tired groan and slumped a little flatter onto the floor in response. Cecil let out a mild chuckle, moving around to Ardwin’s front. “Heh, sorry about that. You got me all excited, might’ve given you a little more than you could handle.” Cecil paused for a second before continuing. “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, though.” Ardwin turned his eyes up just in time to see Cecil moving his head down towards himself, dragging his tongue across his underside in a long lick. When he came off of it, he made sure Ardwin got a good view of the white streaking his muzzle before collecting it with his tongue and swallowing it down as well, leaving him just as sleek and spotless as he’d been when he’d walked in the room. Apart from the pink shaft still half-extended from his slit, of course, but even that seemed relatively clean compared to the state Ardwin was in. He was damn near soaked with a mixture of sweat and mixed fluids—mostly Cecil’s. His whole backside from his tailbone to his knees felt wet. There was no way he [i]wasn’t[/i] going to smell like dragonair for the rest of the day, even if he spent all of that time scrubbing himself in the shower. “You know where the shower is, right?” Cecil asked. Ardwin tried to shake his head, but laid flat and exhausted as he was, it didn’t amount to much more than a slight shifting motion. The intention seemed to be conveyed regardless, though. “It’s just down the hall behind you, second door on the right. The one with the fogged glass on it. Can’t miss it.” Ardwin grunted in acknowledgement. Yeah, a bit of washing up would definitely be a good idea. As soon as he could feel his legs again, anyway. --- Half an hour later, Ardwin had brought himself back to a decent standard of cleanliness, albeit with the occasional scent of dragonair that crept into his nose every once in a while. After he’d finished showering, Cecil was nowhere to be seen, so Ardwin had decided to go back to what he was doing before: sitting around. The kitchen wasn’t an especially great place for it, though. He’d stopped being hungry after being so thoroughly stuffed, and besides, the scent of what him and Cecil had done there still hung heavy in the air. He didn’t need that kind of stink getting back onto him after he’d worked so hard to get it out. Besides-besides, it was far more enjoyable than it should’ve been to smell that scent. Somehow, even though he was utterly exhausted and his legs were still wobbly from what he’d just gone through, he could feel a stirring deep inside him. The desire for more, weak but undeniably present, growing stronger with every breath. Now that he wasn’t being brutally reamed, the cause behind that and his earlier behaviour was perfectly obvious: more changes, extras in the bundled package of becoming a gardevoir. It was silly to think that the only difference would be white skin and a tacked-on dress. Clearly, things ran a bit deeper than that. But that didn’t mean Ardwin had to encourage those feelings. Even if certain desires of his might’ve been changed or intensified, that didn’t mean he had to indulge them. Recent activities excluded, of course; they’d only served to clear his thoughts, and he intended to maintain that state. So, in the hopes that some fresh air might help keep his blood cool, Ardwin left the kitchen and started heading down the hallway opposite the one he’d come in. It would’ve been nice if he’d actually known whether or not that hallway led to an exit or not, but with what was supposed to have been his tour having gone as poorly as it had, Ardwin was forced to rely on the subtleties of architectural design in pointing him in the right direction. In other words, he wandered around aimlessly. Thankfully, his trainer wasn’t some kind of eccentric billionaire that called a labyrinth home. As big as it was, his house was still just a big house, and big houses designed by sane people tended to have an appropriate number of exits. It didn’t take Ardwin long to find one, and by the looks of it, it was even the main entrance. He opened the door and stepped out onto the stoop, eyes closed, drawing a deep breath that made his chest puff up like a proud pigeon. After his stint in the woods, he never would’ve thought he’d appreciate outside air so much, but it felt surprisingly cleansing. Goodness knew he needed plenty of that. Letting out the breath he’d taken, Ardwin opened his eyes—and then his freshly emptied lungs seized up as he took in the sight of what was in front of him. The sight wasn’t unfamiliar. Unfamiliar was what Ardwin had been expecting, maybe some high class gated community that he had no knowledge of. Instead, he was looking at the exact same view as the one he saw every morning leaving his apartment. Ardwin stood there in front of the door, gawping at the sight, trying to make sense of it in his brain. Some of the closer buildings seemed to have been shifted around to make room for Darrell’s house and its accompanying backyard, large enough for a whole building in its own right, but the general environment and the houses farther in the distance looked exactly the same. There was no doubt about it, it had to be the same place. The gears in his head were turning so hard that it was nearly audible. There was no way his apartment could’ve been torn down and replaced with a damn mansion in the, what, day and a half he’d been gone? So what the hell had happened? It took a good minute or two of standing there and thinking for Ardwin to come up with an explanation, and if it hadn’t been for his previous brush with the supernatural, he wouldn’t have reached a conclusion even half as quickly. The changes that had turned him into a gardevoir hadn’t stopped there; they’d stretched into the world at large, replacing his home with someone else’s. And, while it might’ve been something of a leap, Ardwin had a suspicion that things hadn’t stopped there. Everything that was different were things that were related specifically to him. His body. His home. All changed so that there was no proof, nothing he could point to, to prove that he was ever a human at any point. There was no way for him to prove it one way or the other from where he was, but he felt that if he went down to his old work and asked, nobody would have any memory of an Ardwin ever working there. Up to that point, Ardwin had been operating under the assumption that it was only a matter of time before he managed to make someone aware of his situation and get some sort of assistance. Now that it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, that he was never going to be able to prove he’d ever been anything but the pokémon that he’d become, it was hitting him that this was his new life: Bleu, gardevoir, property of Darrell. And it hit him hard. --- Ardwin didn’t hang around the front stoop for very long. People would probably start getting curious if he just stood there staring out at the street all day, and besides, he’d taken in the sight more than enough. It only served to remind him of everything that’d happened, and he needed that like he needed a hole in the head. In fact, probably less—the hole would at least help him stop thinking about it. Ardwin walked around to the backyard, where the view of the street was blocked by the rest of the house. That helped a little bit. Maybe if he tried hard enough, it would be enough that he could pretend that he was somewhere else. That was what he was working on right then, arms wrapped around his knees as he sat curled up into a little ball at the base of a tree. It had a thick trunk and branches that swept downwards so that when Ardwin sat in its shade, it almost felt like another world. That was very conducive to the illusion he was trying to pull on himself, and he had a feeling it was going to become one of his favourite spots. At that moment, though, it was proving to be just about the same as standing out front of the house had been. No level of calming environment would be enough to take his mind off of... well, everything that had been happening to him for the past thirty-some hours. It wasn’t even the big stuff that was bothering him anymore. He’d turned into a gardevoir. That was a thing that had happened, and while he couldn’t say he’d come to terms with it, it was what it was. He’d been caught by a trainer. That was just a situation, and situations were something that he could [i]deal[/i] with, at least theoretically. What it was that was really eating away at him were the little things, all the nearly imperceptible changes that he was only just becoming aware of. All the horniness, for one thing. Ardwin had never been unsettled by the idea of being horny before, but then again, he’d also never been horny while simultaneously having an existential crisis. Experiencing those kinds of diametrically opposed emotions at the same time felt like a direct assault on who he was as a person. How much of himself had changed on that night in the forest? How much had yet to change, and how much of him was going to be left of him at the end of it all? He could’ve spent all afternoon going down that philosophical line of thought, but his concentration was broken by the sound of an unfamiliar voice coming from the last direction Ardwin expected: directly overhead. “Greetings!” Ardwin nearly jumped out of his skin, and it was only through the natural instinct to move away from the noise that he avoided bolting upright and slamming his head right into its source. Instead, he flung himself forward, performing a surprisingly graceful roll before pushing himself back to his feet, now facing his unexpected guest. The second thing Ardwin noticed about them was their species: zoroark. It was the second because the more notable thing about them was that they were upside down, hanging from the branches above by their feet. For them to have gotten up there without Ardwin noticing, they had to be either extremely quiet or have been waiting there already. The question boiled down to whether they were stealthy or crafty. Seeing as how it was a zoroark he was dealing with, the answer was likely to be ‘both’. Letting out a chuckle, the zoroark unhooked his feet from the tree and tucked into a roll that let him drop down and plant both paws onto the ground below. Then, he stood up straight and gave Ardwin a wide, toothy smile. That sight was what finally knocked the information Ardwin had been trying to remember loose: Renoir. That was the zoroark’s name. “Aw, c’mon,” Renoir said, leaning back against the trunk of the tree. “All that effort into a grand entrance, and you aren’t even going to say hello back?” “H-hello,” Ardwin said, caught off guard and not even close to being collected enough to do anything but go exactly where Renoir was leading him. “Thank you. Now, I assume you’re going to ask how it is that I knew to wait for you here, right in this very tree?” Well, he actually wasn’t going to ask, but if the zoroark was just going to go ahead and put it out there... “How did you know to wait for me here?” Renoir raised a hand to his face and tapped the bridge of his muzzle. “I didn’t. I was just taking a nap, and you happened along.” “Oh.” Wow. He hadn’t even come up with the question, and Ardwin still felt dumb for asking it. Renoir certainly was something. “So, uh...” “No need to speak, I’ve already predicted your next question. Answer: look over there!” One of Renoir’s arms shot out to the side, a single claw extended. Ardwin followed its path across the yard, all the way to the house. It looked completely, utterly, almost indescribably… the exact same as it had when he’d last looked at it. “The bottom window, on the left,” Renoir added, perhaps sensing a lack of shocked recognition. Ardwin moved his gaze an inch or so to the left, and once he did, Renoir got the reaction he was looking for: a moment of puzzlement, followed by wide eyes and a slack jaw as it sunk in. The window Renoir was referring to offered an exceptionally clear view of the kitchen, which meant that presumably, Renoir had been enjoying the perfect vantage point from which to observe everything going on inside. Ardwin’s mouth worked silently as he tried to piece together some sort of response, but all that came out were ‘um’s and ‘ah’s. He felt flustered, embarrassed, and stupid. Why was everyone always putting him on the spot? Why couldn’t he come up with anything to say when he was on the wire? Mercifully—or maybe not, considering—Renoir stepped in to fill the silence. “Yes, that’s right. I, Renoir, saw everything. Every last detail!” He’d already inferred that much, but Ardwin still winced at Renoir practically screaming it at him. “So—” Ardwin’s attempt to get a word in edgewise was promptly steamrolled by Renoir continuing his monologue without even the slightest pause. “Now you are no doubt thinking, ‘Alas! My secrets, plundered by this dashing rogue I see before me! But what does he stand to gain by telling me so? Whatever could he want?’” That wasn’t exactly how Ardwin would’ve phrased it. He was pretty sure that he had never used the word ‘alas’ in his whole life, mentally or no. Still, buried beneath all that self-aggrandizement was a legitimate question: what [i]did[/i] he want? Thankfully, all Ardwin had to do to find out was wait, because there was clearly no stopping Renoir from telling him. “Well, allow me to illuminate your confusion. You have drawn my interest, and so I wish to spend time with you.” Well, that was better than expected. It almost sounded— “Carnally!” Nope, never mind, he just wanted to fuck. Ardwin would’ve let out a sigh at it all were he not sucking in a breath as Renoir, moving swiftly and without a word of warning, stepped forward and clamped a hand firmly onto his crotch. And not without pausing his exposition for a moment. “Yes, my friend! You ought to be flattered, having attracted the attention of such a fine specimen as I. Not that you’re bad yourself, mind.” For the sheer number of words Renoir spat, it was impressive how he managed to loop everything back around to himself. He’d talk so much that you’d swear he was going somewhere, but nope, he was just elevating his pedestal another few inches. Speaking of inches, Ardwin was getting groped. If he’d learned anything from his encounter with Cecil, it was that it was probably best to put a stop to that before the situation got out of control. Renoir might not have been the best seducer he’d ever met, but Ardwin’s faith in his own self-control had fallen quite a few pegs, and he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to resist even the zoroark’s simultaneously erudite and crude advances if things continued on as they were. Ardwin raised his hands and pressed them against Renoir’s chest, trying to create some distance between the two of them. “Listen, I’m flattered, but—” “As you should be!” Renoir said, easily overpowering Ardwin’s attempts to push him away and taking another step closer for his trouble. “For who wouldn’t be flattered to have caught the eye of Renoir, the most handsome zoroark to grace the region and—dare I say it—the world?” Well, that absolutely couldn’t be true. Handsome, Ardwin could see, but the [i]most[/i] handsome? Sure, his fur was sleek and shiny, especially that ponytail of his. Vividly coloured, too; the red really popped out from the rest of his dark, greyish-purple fur. And, while Ardwin wouldn’t call himself a master on beauty standards when it came to pokémon, Renoir did have a pretty nice face. Strong, angular snout, bright white fangs that he could see so perfectly whenever the zoroark smiled... Wait, where was he going with this? Not handsome? Ardwin hadn’t done a very good job convincing anyone of that point, least of all himself; he could feel his blood starting to take on a downward trajectory, centring on where that clawed hand was continuing to knead and grope at what was between his legs. Ardwin tried to take a step back, only to find himself pressing up against the trunk of the tree behind him. “I really don’t think—” “Exactly!” Renoir said, taking advantage of Ardwin’s new position to step forward until their chests were touching, Ardwin’s crest nestling into the fur of the zoroark’s torso. “Why think? There’s no need! I want you, and I think it’s safe to assume you want me, too.” Ardwin’s first instinct was to dismiss that statement as just another delusion of grandeur, but when Renoir’s hand squeezed down to emphasize his words, he realised that he was already halfway to bursting out of his skirt. That definitely gave off impressions that he didn’t want to give off. Just as he’d expected, things were rapidly spiralling out of control, though Ardwin was still in a state to make one last bid to derail things before they reached the point Renoir was clearly moving them towards. “H—” Ardwin got as far as the first syllable of what he was going to say before, seeing the clear opportunity the gardevoir’s open mouth provided, Renoir opened his jaws and lunged forward. Ardwin’s gut reaction to seeing a mouth full of such sharp teeth shooting towards him was to tense up, the primal fear of hungry predators causing his muscles to clamp down on themselves. Instead of sinking into his neck, though, Ardwin found those jaws locking around his own in a sideways kiss. Renoir’s tongue slipped past his open lips and into his mouth, and Ardwin, shocked as he was by everything that had happened to him over the course of the past three seconds or so, found himself shocked a bit more by just how different that tongue was. Cecil’s tongue, as large as it might’ve been, still had the same basic shape that he’d expected of a tongue. Renoir’s, on the other hand, was wide and flat. That wasn’t groundbreaking information, of course—most canid pokémon had tongues like that—but knowing it as a general anatomical fact was an entirely different matter from actually experiencing it. Renoir pushed it as deep inside as he could, lapping at every surface of Ardwin’s mouth, and Ardwin learned very quickly that its thinness had no effect on the strength it was able to exert. Then, just as quickly as it’d been forced on him, the kiss ended. Renoir pulled his face away from Ardwin’s, his tongue being the last thing to leave, slipping free from Ardwin’s lips with a dribble of saliva that rolled down his chin. While Ardwin was still gasping for breath, Renoir seemed none the worse for wear—certainly not enough that he couldn’t instantly launch back into monologue. “Impressed? As you should be, for that is only the beginning of what I, Renoir, have to offer! Observe!” Ardwin let out a sigh of relief when Renoir’s hand finally removed itself from its spot between his thighs. That relief lasted about as long as it took for Renoir to move his hands to the trunk of the tree, one on either side of Ardwin’s head. That was because once he’d stabilized himself, Renoir took a step back, then hiked his right leg up into the air—which, Ardwin very quickly learned, left the zoroark’s foot planted firmly in his crotch. Not that it was painful; Renoir hadn’t hooked a kick into his groin. No, the zoroark had been very careful about that. He’d used only just enough force to have Ardwin feel the speed of his foot, to hint at the possibilities without actualizing any of them. When he’d stopped wincing, Ardwin realised what had happened, and more importantly, what [i]hadn’t[/i] happened. Yet despite certain grim fates being avoided, his situation hadn’t improved very much. True, all his important bits were intact, but at the same time, he now had Renoir’s foot taking up the place his hand had been a few moments before. And, much to his dismay, it was doing exactly the same thing. Toes pressed against him through the frills of his skirt, working in an up-and-down motion against what laid beneath. “You will find that I am skilled in all manner of pleasures,” Renoir said, almost purred, all while trying his best to catch Ardwin’s eye—to little success, as the gardevoir’s gaze was firmly set on a completely arbitrary point to the side. “But I hold a special preference for the feet. They’re so... seductive, don’t you think?” “I—” “So base,” Renoir said, talking over Ardwin’s response while continuing to stroke with his paw, up and down. “So vulgar. Yet somehow, so appealing. Cecil doesn’t care for them, but I think he’s just jealous.” Ardwin couldn’t speak for Cecil, but Renoir’s foot was definitely having an effect on him, even more than his hand had. He wasn’t quite sure why. The motions of Renoir’s paw were more crude, less controlled, yet Ardwin found himself throbbing that much harder at the new stimulation. Well, maybe that wasn’t completely honest. He had a pretty good idea of why: it was the same reason as everything else, because he was a gardevoir now. Not that all gardevoir were like him—he sincerely hoped they weren’t—but he was relatively certain he’d never had a thing for feet before being turned into one. In fact, his new feelings for them were striking similar to what Renoir was describing. It annoyed him more than a little that Renoir was actually right about something, but as much as he would’ve liked to stew on it, Ardwin found it somewhat difficult to maintain his anger in the face of Renoir’s continued attentions. “Do not try to deny your feelings, my friend,” Renoir said, pressing a claw against Ardwin’s lips to preemptively silence him while his other hand remained pressed against the tree to maintain his balance. “I can see plain as anything that this is what you want—no, need! Allow me to indulge you.” Ardwin would’ve responded, were it not for the claw still pressed against his lips—and the queer sense of disappointment he felt when Renoir removed his foot and returned it to the ground. Ardwin finally allowed his eyes to return to Renoir’s face, seeking some kind of explanation, but all he got was one of the zoroark’s limitless grins. This one had a smug edge to it, as if he knew exactly what effect he had on Ardwin, and revelled in it. Then, Renoir did the last thing Ardwin would’ve expected—he didn’t speak. Instead, he moved his hands to Ardwin’s shoulders, gently pushing down on them in what was clearly an unspoken request for him to get down on his knees. And even more shocking than the silence of the demand was the weakness it caused in Ardwin’s legs, as if his body was moved to obey even without any conscious effort on his part.. He would’ve said without any desire, but much to Ardwin’s dismay, that was no longer a completely accurate statement. The new position left Ardwin at perfect eye level with Renoir’s groin, and considering the circumstances, it wasn’t a surprise what he saw there: a sheath, thick and swollen with the zoroark’s arousal, a trickle of precum already rolling down his exposed tip and along the fur of his balls to drip onto the ground below. “Impressed?” Renoir asked, grabbing himself by the base of his sheath before giving it a rolling squeeze that milked out a spurt of pre. It shot out with enough force to land on the crest jutting from Ardwin’s chest, and that was enough to jerk him from the reverie he hadn’t even noticed he’d fallen into. He averted his eyes, embarrassed. “No need to be ashamed,” Renoir said, and Ardwin was surprised to find no hint of mockery in his voice. It was one of the more subdued things Renoir had said, his voice lacking its typical extravagance, but Ardwin found it cut into his mind the most deeply. It was a subtle thing, but it put Ardwin’s view of his situation into a new light. He’d thought of Renoir and Cecil before him as taking advantage of him, to a greater or lesser extent. Looking back on things, though, he’d gone along with most everything they’d suggested. Now, there was genuine concern to go along with what they were doing to him. Maybe this was just their way of bonding, and he’d been too caught up in his own personal drama to recognize it for what it was? It was quite the revelation. He had no time to consider the full implications of it, because whatever tender moment that might’ve materialized was swiftly demolished by Renoir lifting up a paw and planting it directly onto Ardwin’s face. “This may be something of a presumption on my part,” Renoir said, “but I get the impression that you’re the sort that prefers having things done [i]to[/i] you, if you catch my meaning?” Ardwin did catch his meaning, and he couldn’t say that he was pleased that he apparently gave off vibes that were so strongly bottom that other pokémon felt like they could come right up to him and stick their feet in his face. At the same time, he did find himself paralyzed by Renoir’s paw, only able to take shallow, panting breaths that were suffused with the scent of the zoroark’s toes. Maybe he [i]was[/i] that bottom. “I see how it is,” Renoir murmured, clenching and unclenching his toes against Ardwin’s face. “No need to say a word. I know exactly what it is you want.” Renoir removed his paw from Ardwin’s face and offered the gardevoir just enough time to fill his lungs with relatively clean air—though Ardwin wouldn’t quite say unscented, since the position meant he still caught the smell of zoroark arousal whenever the wind shifted. After that brief moment, Renoir moved his foot lower, returning it to what was becoming a regular spot for it: between Ardwin’s legs. But apparently unsatisfied with just rubbing against him through his skirt, Renoir took things a bit further than he had before. With a flick of his foot, he tossed Ardwin’s dress aside, finally exposing what had been desperately aching for release just beneath them. Not for long, though. Ardwin’s decency was swiftly restored in the form of Renoir’s paw pressing down directly over top of his cock, once again obscuring it from sight—although now with a good deal more stimulation, squashed under Renoir’s pawpads as it was. “That face you’re making is adorable,” Renoir said. As soon as Ardwin processed the words, he flung his hands up to cover his face, feeling a familiar heat starting to burn behind his cheeks. He didn’t want to be called adorable, cute, or any other variation thereof. Unfortunately, that reaction seemed to have the opposite of the effect he’d been aiming for. Renoir just laughed, pressing down with his foot as he did so. “Well, if you’re going to be like that, I’ll just have to keep going until I can see you blush right through your fingers.” Renoir seemed intent on making good on his promise; he shifted his paw, moving Ardwin’s cock into the space between his toes and the ball of his foot before clenching down. The result was a tight grip that, while not precise, allowed Renoir to stroke that much more effectively. That lack of precision was less of a problem than Ardwin would’ve imagined, as it very quickly became evident that Renoir did not require the dexterity that hands offered; he had skill, passion, and his partner’s freshly discovered predilection for feet to work off of. Ardwin would’ve been impressed were he not preoccupied gripping at his face hard enough for his fingers to dig into his skin, trying not to utterly lose his mind. In all honesty, the stimulation wasn’t that intense; on the upper end as far as one-footed pawjobs went, certainly, but nothing extraordinary. Ardwin was aware of that fact, but the knowledge wasn’t making what he was experiencing any less incredible. It was like his first time all over again. Which was utterly ridiculous, because it wasn’t even his first time as a pokémon. He’d literally been fucked in the ass by a dragon not two hours before. Why was this, of all things Renoir could’ve done, getting to him? Was he always going to be this sensitive? He shuddered, half in dread at the possibility, half at the feeling of those toes squeezing down around him once again. Then, back again. Ardwin winced instinctively as Renoir’s foot came rushing back up towards his face, stopping just short of slamming into his jaw. That sort of thing, those slight hints of danger, were quickly becoming a theme. It seemed that the zoroark liked to keep him on edge—in every sense of the word, as was made abundantly clear when he nudged Ardwin’s hands aside and pressed his paw against his face once again, this time focusing his attention on the gardevoir’s lips. “I do hope you won’t make me beg,” Renoir drawled, “because I won’t. I’ll just... take.” He punctuated his words with a press of his foot, toes wedging themselves into the crack of Ardwin’s mouth, allowing him to taste the salt of his own pre leaking past his lips. It was all an act, of that, Ardwin was sure. It was an engaging one, though, and he felt himself compelled to go along with it. As if going against it would be some grave offence. Arceus. All the world was a stage, and Renoir was a true and proper thespian. If Ardwin was just a bit more confident in his part in their little play, perhaps he would’ve dragged things out a bit longer, put up more of a struggle. Instead, he let the lead lead, parting his lips to allow Renoir’s paw entry. “Ahh,” Renoir sighed, immediately taking advantage of the opening by pushing his toes forward until he could feel his pawpads pressing against Ardwin’s tongue. “I knew I was right about you from the moment I laid eyes on you. Secretly eager, obedient, just waiting for someone to come along and do whatever they want to you.” Lacking any sort of witty response, Ardwin gave only a groan in response, the sound coming out muffled from around the paw crammed into his mouth. The pre he’d spurted across it was now being smeared across his tongue, leaving him incapable of tasting anything but his own arousal, cut with the unique flavour of Renoir’s pawpads. Bitter, earthy—but, Ardwin was surprised to find, not unpleasant. Well, perhaps only half surprised. After all, considering all the other changes he’d gone through, why wouldn’t his taste buds have been changed to find the flavour of paws desirable? Particularly when the rest of Renoir was just as desirable: gorgeous fur, lean muscle, the tang of tempting musk that cut in through the haze of paw scent whenever the breeze brought it to his nose... Okay. Ardwin wasn’t sure how or when, but he’d slipped into something of a daydream. About Renoir. While continuing to suck his toes. That was a bit more into things than he’d thought he’d get, and was mildly disconcerting. It couldn’t have lasted too long, but it was long enough for him to have sucked all traces of his own fluids off of Renoir’s foot, leaving him with nothing but the taste of the zoroark’s pawpads and the traces of sweat between his toes to focus on. “As fun as this might be,” Renoir said, “all this standing is making my legs... well, leg, a bit tired. Do you mind if I take a seat?” Ardwin had no idea why Renoir was asking him permission, but there was neither need nor opportunity for him to respond. Renoir moved his paw from Ardwin’s face to his shoulder, then gave him a good shove. Unprepared, Ardwin couldn’t react fast enough to do anything until he was already falling. He barely managed to catch himself before planting his face into the grass, leaving him kneeling on all fours— Only for Renoir to hook a foot under his chest and flip him onto his side, then over onto his back. Ardwin, still frazzled by the fall, just stared up at Renoir. The zoroark looked right back at him, the light shining through the leaves forming a halo around him that was utterly at odds with the dark grin he was flashing. Not that Ardwin got to take in that grin for very long. Renoir stepped forward until his feet were planted on either side of Ardwin’s head, turned around—and sat down, right on top of his face. Ardwin let out a gasp as Renoir’s rear approached his face in the second or so before that was rendered impossible by the zoroark’s pert, fluffy cheeks enveloping him. At that point, all he was doing was inhaling a heady blast of zoroark musk, sweaty, distinctly male, and undeniably aroused. It reeked of sex, and the smell was having a predictable effect on Ardwin’s own body. His cock throbbed and drooled against his thigh, eager for more of what he was smelling. “I do hope you realise I can see you dripping on yourself,” Renoir said, voice thick with smugness. “And I’m not even touching you. Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” Ardwin gave off an annoyed sounding murmur from his position under Renoir’s backside. Even with his face halfway to being buried in the zoroark’s ass, he still had reservations about being called cute. Maybe others would’ve found that particular combination strange, but to Ardwin, it made sense. Facesitting was one thing, but being called cute was just... embarrassing. “Alright, alright, I hear you,” Renoir said, chuckling. “Here, put your tongue to better use than complaining.” Renoir ground himself down, twisting his hips and forcing Ardwin’s face deeper into the crack of his ass. It wasn’t long before Ardwin felt a patch of smooth skin in the midst of all that fur press against his nostrils, and with another shift of his hips, it was shunted down to his mouth. Renoir’s asshole was pressed against his lips, letting him feel every wrinkle and fold as it twitched and flexed against them. “I’m sure you’d rather I be licking you,” Renoir said, “but don’t worry; keep at it, and I’ll make sure you get plenty of attention.” Ardwin panted, feeling the heat of his every breath wash off of Renoir’s ass and reflect back onto his face with ever increasing speed. Well, he’d already licked the guy’s foot clean. No point in suddenly deciding to be a prude. Ardwin parted his lips and, with a level of trepidation that was perhaps unwarranted considering the things he’d already done, slid his tongue out and let it come to rest against Renoir’s entrance. Even that slight contact brought with it much more than Ardwin had been expecting: all the sweat and musk that he’d been smelling was suddenly translated into taste, expanding to fill every corner of his mouth with the twin flavours of zoroark and sex. Ardwin groaned. Had his sense of taste been boosted, too, or was his brain now just geared to hone in on the taste of another male? There was no way for him to answer that, but the new urges he felt were beyond question, and they demanded more of what he was tasting. He moved with a level of frenzy that completely flew in the face of the hesitation that he’d shown just a few moments before, hands flying out and latching onto Renoir’s hips to hold him in place while he shot out with his tongue in a firm, sweeping lick across the zoroark’s asshole. Taken off guard by the sudden show of enthusiasm, Renoir let out a gasp—but he was never taken off-stride for long. A second later, he was chuckling, pressing down onto Ardwin’s face and the tongue lavishing his backside with endless strong, loving licks. “Had a change of heart, did you?” Renoir said, his words only dimly registering in Ardwin’s mind over the wet sounds of his own frantic oral worship. “I suppose you deserve a reward, then. For being such a good boy.” Whereas being called cute had just irritated him, Ardwin wound an electric thrill racing down his spine at being called a good boy. It was... he didn’t want to say demeaning, because that made it sound altogether negative, and that wasn’t how he felt. It made him feel small, yes, but in a good way. Like he was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing. It felt good to be praised. But as nice as it felt, being called a good boy was not the reward Renoir had been talking about. That would come after Renoir had shifted himself around, supporting himself with his arms to avoid putting all of his weight onto Ardwin’s face. Once he was good and settled, he moved his feet into Ardwin’s lap, grabbing a hold of the gardevoir’s cock with both of his paws. “Oh, how selfless of you,” Renoir said. “Willing to let me sit on your face with your tongue buried in my ass, just for an opportunity to feel my paws. How generous!” Ardwin let out a muffled whine when Renoir squeezed his paws down around his shaft, coaxing a spurt of pre out of him that ran down along the zoroark's toes in thick, glittering droplets. "Or maybe it has nothing to do with generosity, and you're just that perverted, that servile. Hmm?" As much as Ardwin hated to admit it, that seemed like a much more accurate assessment. He certainly wasn't doing anything he was doing out of the goodness of his heart, but out of pure need, an overpowering hunger for the zoroark—both for his body, and everything that he was doing to him. Though thinking on it, he wasn't sure how much he [i]did[/i] hate to admit that fact. Thinking about how much he enjoyed having Renoir as a partner sent the same pleasurable tingles down his spine as when he'd been called a good boy. Was partner even the right word? 'Master' seemed more appropriate, considering the dynamic they had going on. He outright shivered at the idea, having to pause in his licking to take a shuddering breath that was, predictably, too tainted with the heady scent of Renoir's musk to have any hope of clearing his head. Not that Ardwin minded that. At that point, all he wanted was to stay in that state forever, basking in the muggy scent of male zoroark while his mind swam and those paws did whatever they wanted with him. And they were definitely doing that. As he'd hinted at before, Renoir's infatuation with feet ran back quite a ways, and all that time seemed to have translated directly into skill with his own. Now that he was in a comfortable position and didn't have to worry about balancing on one leg, he'd become so adroit with his paws that they were like a second pair of hands. He gripped Ardwin's cock with his toes, rolled it around between his pads, occasionally allowed the slightest hint of his claws to trace along the sides of his shaft—never so far as to threaten injury, but just enough to add a touch of excitement, like a hint of teeth in a blowjob. Ardwin found it insane that Renoir was good enough with his feet to warrant a comparison to a mouth while he still sometimes found himself stepping on his own toes. Then again, he supposed that wouldn't be as much of a problem anymore, given his lack of certain key elements in that equation. "Hey, don't you let up on me, now," Renoir said, the mock-reproach in his voice jerking Ardwin out of his reverie—as much so as the fugue that'd settled over his mind would permit, anyway. "As entrancing as my paws might be, this is still a two-way street." Over the sound of Renoir's words and the shlicking of his freshly renewed licking, Ardwin could hear something. A kind of wet rubbing that seemed to coincide with the slight movements of the zoroark's body, and once he'd recognized both of those things for what they were, the small part of Ardwin's mind that wasn't totally dedicated to slurping away at the asshole pressed against his face started working out how those two things fit together. He figured it out with an impressive amount of speed, given the circumstances, though that was likely purely because of what the answer was: Renoir was pleasuring himself. Jacking off. Quite messily, in fact, if the sound of it was anything to go by. That and the feeling of a glob of pre smacking down onto his chest, splitting off into several droplets that went rolling down his sides. Ardwin found that hot. Really, really hot. The fact that Renoir liked what he was doing with his tongue enough that he was touching himself, oozing pre all over his chest; that if he kept up what he was doing, he was going to have Renoir cumming all over him. Maybe he’d shoot far enough to reach Ardwin’s own cock, and those paws could jerk him off to completion using the zoroark’s own cum as lube. That was probably one of the horniest things Ardwin had thought up to that point, and the idea alone was enough to make his cock throb that much harder in Renoir’s grip. Though that could’ve just as easily been attributed to the increasing speed of Renoir’s feet, matching the zoroark’s own stroking in an impressive display of multitasking. “Getting close,” Renoir growled, squeezing his paws down tight around Ardwin’s shaft as he jerked the gardevoir off with short, fast strokes. “Come on, give me a show. Cum for me!” There was no way Ardwin could refuse a demand like that. He let out a high moan into Renoir’s ass, then, as if his body had just been waiting for permission, his cock started giving off those telltale throbs from its place squished between Renoir’s feet. Once, twice... With a third pulse, the most powerful yet, a rope of cum shot out of Ardwin with enough force to arc up into the air and layer down in thick strands across his front. The white of it stood in stark contrast to the orange of his chest spike. The next spurt was just as powerful, but a shift of Renoir’s paws meant it didn’t go nearly as far, instead splattering against the toes that had wrapped themselves around the head of his member. “Ooh, nice, very nice,” Renoir said, squeezing his toes around Ardwin’s still-spurting cock, great globs of white oozing out from the cracks between his toes with every pulse. His voice was breathy, words coming between pants, either the exertion or excitement of everything he was doing finally starting to get to him. “You’d better not stop with that tongue, either, I’m almost—” Renoir’s words trailed off into a sigh and a sharp clenching of both his paws and his asshole, clamping down around Ardwin’s tongue to trap it inside him. At the same time, Ardwin felt a wet heat start to stripe across his chest and belly, this time from the opposite direction as before. Even if Ardwin couldn’t see it from his position, there was no doubt: Renoir had reached his peak, and was painting his chest white while Ardwin coated his paws. That knowledge alone seemed to make everything feel twice as good—maybe not in terms of physical sensation, but more like the information pleased some primal, visceral part of his brain. That moment seemed to drag on for a blissful eternity, but it did eventually come to an end. Ardwin, having gotten a head start, finished first, though Renoir wasn’t too far behind. After Ardwin had oozed the last bit of cum onto the paws wrapped around his feet, he felt the final drops of Renoir’s cum dribble onto his collarbone, and then things were done. Ardwin’s neck felt sore, his tongue felt exhausted, and he felt completely, utterly satisfied. After taking a few moments to catch his breath, Renoir spoke. “Oh, fantastic performance. Bravo.” He even offered a few claps to go along with his praise before he moved his paws back to the ground and lifted his ass up off of Ardwin’s face, finally giving him some measure of relief as the pressure on his neck was removed. Other emotions went along with that relief: pride at seeing the zoroark’s hole glisten from just how thoroughly he’d polished it, disappointment that it had to end. While he was processing all of those feelings, Renoir was still moving, pushing himself into a standing position before finally recapturing Ardwin’s attention by shoving one paw, positively dripping with cum, into his face. “I’m afraid you’re not done yet, though. I can’t go back inside in a state like this, now can I?” He hadn’t outright asked for it, but the implication was so strong that Renoir might as well have been barking orders at him. His toes wiggled, strings of cum spider-webbing between them. Even having cum mere moments before, Ardwin wound himself salivating at the smell of it—even though it was his own brand, so to speak. That fact puzzled him a bit. Had he really been turned into such a... slut, for lack of a better word, that he now got excited at the idea of eating his own cum? Or was it that he was just that eager to obey the commands of any pokémon who took the time to give them? Either, both, or neither, Ardwin didn’t have the answer. All he knew was that the urge to do what was being offered to him, commanded of him, was impossible to ignore. He let his mouth drop open and, without the slightest bit of hesitation now that he was in familiar territory, took the zoroark’s toes into his mouth. “I knew I could count on you, Bleu,” Renoir said, sounding quite pleased with himself as Ardwin started lapping at his paw, collecting great wads of cum with his tongue before pulling them into his mouth to swallow them down. “Personally, I feel this is the start of a great friendship.” Ardwin did too, though as he dug his tongue into the space between Renoir’s toes, seeking out every last smear of cum that he could, he wondered just how deeply involved their friendship was going to become if this was their starting point. The thought filled him with equal parts fear and excitement. --- For the second time that day, Ardwin left the shower, emerging from a cloud of steam out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Cleanup was definitely easier than last time, being that it was limited solely to his outsides, but it wasn’t quite as easy to scrub the shame away. Doing stuff like Cecil and Renoir had goaded him into doing felt good and bad. Mostly, it felt bad that it felt so good. He didn’t [i]want[/i] to be the kind of person that people could just pressure into doing stuff, but just doing what others wanted him to do always ended up feeling really, really good. Which made it feel like whenever it happened, he was being conditioned so that next time it’d happen even faster. Ardwin really didn’t like that, the feeling that he was losing control over his actions. It wasn’t like any core part of him was changing—he was pretty sure the crippling waves of shame that he felt were enough to prove that his personality was just the same as ever—but more like his impulse control was burning away like a house that had just decided to become good friends with fire and gasoline. But what could he do, really? Scream ‘stop trying to fuck me’ whenever one of the others tried to put the moves on him? He’d already set the precedent; if he tried being blunt like that now, it was just going to seem like a personal thing against them. Ardwin was socially awkward enough that he wasn’t able to say ‘no’ in the first place, there was no way he’d be able to muster the courage to say it now that it was actually going to seem like an insult and risk souring his relationship with the pokémon he was going to be spending all his time with. The situation made his head hurt. He wanted to come up with a solution to things, but he couldn’t even think about them without feeling so anxious that he just wanted to go back up to the bedroom, turn off the lights, and lie face down for the next eternity. So instead of thinking, Ardwin decided to go back to the kitchen and see if there was anything happening in terms of dinner. When he got there, there wasn’t any sign of cooking. He supposed that was to be expected, considering it was only about four, which was something on the early side. That was the time Ardwin usually started fixing himself something, but he couldn’t really expect that of others. Did they even do proper meals, or was he supposed to just serve himself? Was there some sort of bowl on the floor somewhere he was supposed to eat out of? He didn’t really know how people treated that kind of thing in regards to house pokémon, especially the bipedal ones. That particular quandary would have to wait, because while there was no food on the stove, there was Darrell leaning against it. He was flipping through his phone, but as soon as he noticed Ardwin come in, he turned it off and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Bleu!” Darrell said, and Ardwin flashed a look back over his shoulder before he realised that, yes, he was the one being addressed. That name was definitely going to take some getting used to. “Good timing, I was just about to go look for you.” Darrell took a step forward, then stopped, his body language immediately shifting a few notches into awkward territory—which actually looked a bit more fitting on him than how he was before. Awkwardness seemed to be a natural state for him. “Listen,” Darrell said, trying to maintain eye contact with Ardwin for a moment before breaking it off. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but your combat performance when I caught you left... something to be desired.” Ardwin was surprised to find that his words stung a bit. It wasn’t like he expected to be good at fighting, seeing as how he’d only just become a pokémon—he didn’t even know if he [i]wanted[/i] to be good at fighting—but to have it stated so plainly still somehow managed to make him feel bad, just a little bit. Either sensing or completely oblivious to the bad vibes he’d seeded, Darrell continued on, visibly and audibly perking up. “But! I don’t want you to worry, because I’ve arranged for some battle training with you and Rufus, first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll get you up to form in no time flat!” Something shifted in the corner of Ardwin’s vision, and he turned his head to the side to see what it was. Appropriately enough, it was Rufus, standing in the doorway to the hall like speaking his name had somehow summoned him. He was leaning against the door frame and fixing Ardwin with a stare that the gardevoir met for about a second before turning his eyes back to the floor. Darrell was radiating excitement. Ardwin had no idea what emotion Rufus was radiating, but he could feel it crackling in the air, and it made his neck prickle like static electricity. Ardwin knew how [i]he[/i] felt, and he definitely wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow. --- It was tomorrow. It had certainly come faster than Ardwin had expected, or hoped. In fact, if it were a story, he’d imagine that he’d just come out of the tail-end of a scene shift that’d skipped past several hours of his life. Then again, that might’ve just been because he’d only slept about six hours. Rufus had gotten him up as soon as the word ‘morning’ had started to become an accurate word to describe the time, even if it was only in the most technical sense. Standing out in the backyard like he was, Ardwin could see the sun just peeking up over the horizon, and he was relatively certain that starting their training so early had [i]not[/i] been Darrell’s idea. “Do you have any experience with your psychic powers?” Rufus asked. It was the first thing the lycanroc had said to him since rudely shaking him awake. It took a few seconds for Ardwin’s groggy mind to process that question. For some reason, he really thought about it, as if he had to make sure that there was no time he was forgetting when he was able to move things with his mind. Once he was more than certain that was the case and realised how stupid he was being, he shook his head. Rufus sighed and mirrored the motion. “Not surprising. You probably would’ve used them when we first met if you knew at all what you were doing. Alright, I don’t know what Darrell expects from me, but I’ll give it a shot.” The lycanroc lowered himself to the grass and sat down, crossing his legs and gesturing with a hand for Ardwin to do the same. He did so, feeling some relief that there wasn’t going to be any physical exercise just yet. He wasn’t nearly awake enough to deal with that. “Close your eyes.” Ardwin closed his eyes. “Do you know anything about energy? Auras? Stuff like that?” “Nnnnno.” Ardwin didn’t need his eyes open to know that Rufus was shaking his head, pinching his nose, or otherwise showing off just how disappointed he was. The feeling radiated off of him. Like an aura, appropriately enough. “How’d you even [i]survive[/i] in the wild? By hiding under rocks?” Ardwin cracked an eye open. “I, uh, mostly ran. A lot.” “Hey, eyes closed,” Rufus snapped, and Ardwin obeyed, replacing the sight of scowling lycanroc with darkness once more. “Arceus, I have literally no idea how you evolved. Alright, we’ll start as basic as I can go. Try to sense your aura.” Five or so seconds of silence passed before Ardwin spoke up. “I don’t really... know...” “Turn your gaze inward. Feel around inside yourself, try to find that vital spark.” “...how to do that,” Ardwin continued, voice having gone down to a mumble after hearing Rufus’ impatient instructions. “Can you just try?” Rufus sounded like he was on the verge of snapping at him, so instead of asking for further clarification, Ardwin just gave it his best shot. He’d never really done any meditation or spiritual-type stuff before, so he wasn’t sure how to do just about any of what Rufus had just described. Saying that it felt like groping around in the dark would be generous; it more just felt like nothing, just sitting around with his eyes closed. But Ardwin concentrated, screwing his eyes shut tight, and tried to the best of his ability to ‘feel around inside himself’—whatever that meant. He focused on his breathing, because he was pretty sure that was something people did when they were doing stuff like this. He listened to his heart beating. It was fast, which wasn’t surprising, considering just being around Rufus made him feel kind of anxious. Then, to his surprise, he felt something else. Something like an electric current, originating from somewhere behind his sternum and flowing out through the rest of his body. It was subtle, so much so that for a second he wondered whether or not he was imagining it just so he could tell Rufus that he’d actually done what he’d asked, but he was pretty sure it was a real thing. “Do you feel it?” “I think? Yes?” “What do you mean you ‘think’, do you or—” Rufus cut himself off with a deep breath, then continued with a somewhat calmer tone to his voice. “Alright. Can you try moving that energy? Gather it in your chest.” Ardwin wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to ‘move’ spiritual energy, but figured that it was probably less a matter of muscle and more of will. So he thought as hard as he could, thought [i]at[/i] that current inside him, trying to convince it to redirect its flow and pour it into a spot right below his solar plexus. That seemed like the most thematically appropriate place to put it. And again to his surprise, this time at actually being able to fulfill Rufus’ expectations, he could feel that current shift inside him. Energy began to well just above his stomach, something that felt like taking a deep breath of fresh air without any of the physical sensation that typically went along with that. It felt weird, like moving parts of his body that didn’t actually exist, but at the same time satisfying, like those same parts were finally being stretched and exercised after being left dormant for... ever, now that he thought about it. “Can you do it?” Rufus asked, sounding half curious, half impatient. “I think—” Ardwin started, then caught himself. “I mean, yeah. Yes, I’m doing it.” “Well, at least you can do that much,” Rufus said. Not exactly praise, but Ardwin was too focused on maintaining that growing clump of energy inside him to feel too strongly about the lycanroc’s tone. “Keep going. Tell me when you can’t get any more.” Ardwin kept drawing from that source inside him, gathering as much as it would provide, but his limits did present themselves eventually. It wasn’t that he ran out of energy, like he’d been expecting to happen, but there was just no room left to store it. If taking in that power was like taking a breath, then his ‘lungs’ simply had no more room to expand. “Done,” Ardwin said, unwilling to give a longer response for fear of losing his hold on what he’d managed to collect. “Now move it into your hands and release it,” Rufus said, his voice now coming from behind Ardwin. That was a direction he was more than happy to follow. With a relief like letting out a breath held far too long, Ardwin released his grip on that energy, and all he had to do was provide the slightest coaxing in terms of direction; whatever pressure it was that drove spirit energy or aura or whatever it was he was dealing with did the rest. It flowed through his shoulders like a rush of water, down his biceps, towards his hands... And as soon as it reached his fingers, instantly reversed direction, rushing back up his arms and up into his head like whitewater that had suddenly pulled him under. --- Renoir hadn’t quite solidified his feelings on dawn. It did have a natural beauty to it, and he did like the liminal feeling of being between night and morning, but it was just so very, very [i]early.[/i] Having a trainer meant he had to adhere to something resembling a sleep schedule, so he couldn’t just stay up all night to see the dawn, and there was no way he was going to go to bed early enough to enjoy it when he woke up. Not usually, anyway. Today was a special day. Today was the day that Rufus was going to be training with their new friend and companion, and skipping a chance to miss out on a spectacle like that was unthinkable. Maybe he’d even be able to provide some assistance of his own. Not that Rufus typically appreciated the assistance he provided, but his enjoyment of it was completely beside the point. Renoir pushed his way out the door and into the backyard, taking a deep breath of the chilly morning air before letting it back out with a sigh. Then, he swept his gaze around the yard in search of any blue or red standing out against the grass. It didn’t take long to find it. There they were, sitting cross-legged in a little corner of the yard that he could only just see through a cluster of trees, a spot that was probably picked by Rufus in an attempt to avoid him specifically. That was just too bad for him; Renoir already knew all the good hiding spots, and that area didn’t even make the top ten. Renoir approached, and while he did briefly consider climbing up one of the trees and dropping down to make a grand entrance, it was a bit too early for him to expend [i]that[/i] much energy on theatrics. Maybe in another thirty minutes he’d be willing, but as it was, he settled for just leaning against one of the trees and observing from a distance of about ten feet. “Heeeey, Roofie! How’s your training session going?” The silence that greeting was met by was the first indication to Renoir that something was wrong. The lack of a warm, friendly response wasn’t the problem, although he did find it somewhat rude. It was the fact that Rufus hadn’t snapped at him in response to that nickname he’d made it very clear he despised. Hadn’t even turned to give him a sour look. He just sat there, one paw raised to his face to pinch at the bridge of his snout. He looked over at Bleu. Renoir had assumed he was looking at Rufus, but closer examination revealed that he was actually staring off over the lycanroc’s shoulder at some point far off in the distance, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack. Concerned, intrigued, and feeling glad that he’d put in the effort to get up so early, Renoir came closer. “Oh, Rufus, Rufus, Rufus. What have you gone and done?” “I didn’t do anything, Renoir,” Rufus said, spitting the zoroark’s name like it was an insult. “I was teaching him the bare bones of aura manipulation, and now he’s like this.” Renoir leaned down on his knees, getting a better look at Bleu. The closer examination didn’t reveal any additional clues to him, though he did notice a trickle of drool starting to work its way out of the corner of the gardevoir’s mouth. Renoir reached out with a hand and snapped his fingers in front of Bleu’s face, checking for any kind of response, but found none. “Well, you’ve certainly done a good job frying your student,” Renoir said, standing up straight and putting his hands on his hips. “You sure you haven’t been doing anything untoward?” “I’m [i]sure,[/i] Renoir,” Rufus said, his words accompanied by an angry leer. Renoir took note of it and made a tally mark in his mind, hoping he could beat his personal best of fifty by the end of the day. “This is... I’ve never heard of this happening before. Not with basic stuff like this.” “Perhaps I could assist.” Rufus let out a low growl. “Do you have to?” “Well, a problem like this requires a refined touch. You can’t just slam into it like a wild animal.” Renoir gave Rufus a sidelong glance. “No offence to you, of course. Your skills in pummelling our opponents into submission are unparalleled.” “Thank you,” Rufus said, voice deadpan and dripping with acidity. “Quite welcome,” Renoir murmured, walking around Bleu in a tight circle while stroking his chin with one hand. After a moment, his eyes lit up with an idea, and he bent down and leaned in until his muzzle was just an inch away from the side of Bleu’s head. Then, he whispered something. Before Renoir even had time to pull away, Bleu was moving, and the zoroark had to throw himself back to avoid being uppercut by an errant shoulder. Thankfully, Rufus was too distracted by what was going on with Bleu to comment on it, and he was able to get back onto his own feet before Rufus could offer any snide comments. Renoir preferred imparting those, not receiving them. Bleu was upright, but from the vacant, drooling expression still plastered across his face, it was clear he hadn’t gone back to normal. Rufus turned to Renoir with a sharp look on his face (two), as if the whole situation was now the zoroark’s fault simply because he’d made Bleu stand up. “What did you do?” Renoir stared right back at him with a wide grin splitting his face. “Rufus, you beautiful idiot. What’s the one move psychics are best known for?” Rufus kept up his stare, like he was trying to bore a hole into Renoir with pure force of will, but said nothing. Renoir continued. “Remember that fight with the drowzee, where you—” The mere mention of the word ‘drowzee’ had Rufus’ eyes shooting open, and his mouth wasn’t far behind. “Yes, yes, I remember. So, what, you’re saying he hypnotized himself?” “It does seem that way,” Renoir said, giving Bleu a few good pokes in the side while gauging his response, which was roughly equivalent to that of a root vegetable. “How is that even possible?” “I’m afraid that’s got me stumped as well,” Renoir said, taking a step back and crossing his arms. “Maybe he’s just that incompetent.” A flicker of irritation crossed Rufus’ face at the word ‘incompetent’, which was only magnified when Renoir turned to him with a pleasant, almost amiable smile on his face. “I can fix him, though.” That had Rufus perking up right quick. “How?” “Well, first, I’m afraid you’ll have to leave. I require complete privacy in which to work.” Now it was Rufus’ turn to cross his arms. He gave Renoir the sternest look he could muster (three), which was met by a look of complete innocence from the zoroark. “You’re gonna do something to him, aren’t you?” “Yes, Rufus, that’s what we’re discussing.” “No, I mean...” Rufus’ words trailed off into a sigh, but Renoir waited patiently for him to continue. “You’re gonna do something weird and gross, aren’t you?” “Personally, I find all psychic manipulation to be ‘weird and gross’ to a greater or lesser degree. It just isn’t right to tamper with the minds of—” “Arceus,” Rufus cut in, exasperated, “you’re gonna [i]fuck[/i] him, aren’t you?” “You mean like you’ve been wanting to do from the day you two met?” That broke through Rufus’ brusque demeanour like a brick hurled through a window, throwing him off-balance and leaving him spluttering in an attempt to come up with a response. “I— why do you—” “Oh, don’t bother,” Renoir said, waving Rufus’ half-formed protests away with a paw. “I know everything that goes on around here, including you making a beeline for the bathroom right after your little tour, covering yourself with your paws. Not exactly subtle. “Besides,” Renoir added with a wink, “it isn’t like Cecil and I haven’t already indulged ourselves.” Rufus was avoiding eye contact now, which wasn’t going to do Renoir’s score any favours, but it was satisfying all the same. “That’s—” Pushing his advantage, Renoir cut him off again. “You can stay and watch, if you’d like.” Rufus opened his mouth, no doubt about to start in on his biggest tongue lashing of the week, but stopped short. He furrowed his brow, this time out of thought instead of anger. Renoir waited ten seconds, then twenty, before Rufus finally met his gaze for just long enough to give one terse nod. “Just to make sure you don’t do anything weird,” Rufus muttered, stepping back and taking up a position against a nearby tree. “Of course,” Renoir said, humouring him for just a little longer. He wasn’t going to press Rufus too hard; he’d managed to get himself into a very unique and fragile position, and he didn’t want to risk flustering or frustrating the lycanroc enough that he backed out of their agreement. But turning his attention back to Bleu, still standing and staring in the exact same position as before, Renoir was damn sure that he was going to give Rufus a show. Renoir walked up to the gardevoir, moving close enough for his chest spike to bury itself in his fur, which was more than close enough for their breath to mingle in the space between them. Bleu’s breathing was deep and steady, like he’d fallen asleep standing up, not changing at all in response to his presence. He looked so vacant. Suggestible. Vulnerable. Perhaps Renoir had been a bit too hasty in his assessment of psychic powers earlier. They did have their advantages. Renoir reached down and clamped a paw between Bleu’s legs, groping at him through the frills of his skirt. He found that the gardevoir was completely soft, to no surprise—as he was, Renoir wasn’t sure Bleu was cognizant enough to even know he was being touched. Renoir intended to fix that, though, or at the very least use it to his advantage. He squeezed and kneaded at Bleu’s bulge, rolling it between his fingers, and he felt the gardevoir’s body start to respond. Slight twitching, a small amount of growth, but nothing nearly as fast as what Renoir wanted. It seemed that the trance that had come over Bleu was affecting that part of his body just as much as the rest. But Renoir hadn’t come into things intending to brute force his way through a mental problem. He leaned forward, bringing his muzzle up to Bleu’s ear, and whispered. “Get hard.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he could feel Bleu’s body respond. Sleepy twitches became powerful throbs, each bringing waves of blood surging down towards Bleu’s groin. It was only a matter of seconds before the gardevoir was completely erect, cock throbbing against his paw in record time. He had Bleu completely at his mercy, ready and waiting for whatever it was Renoir wanted to do to him. The possibilities stretched out before him endlessly, limited only by his imagination—and, of course, what Rufus would tolerate. Beyond what he would tolerate, even; Renoir was aiming for something a bit higher than that. It would be a difficult task to take on in any other set of circumstances, but with Bleu thrown into the mix, Renoir thought he had a fair shot at getting under the lycanroc’s skin in a whole new way. Renoir pulled Bleu’s skirt apart, finally revealing the erection that he’d been palming for so long, a bead of pre forming on its head. All the touching was having an effect on the zoroark, as well; his sheath, ignored up to that point, had gradually swollen as he worked his paws over Bleu’s body. Renoir thrust his hips forward, grinding his sheath against the gardevoir’s own arousal, a pink tip pushing its way free as he did so. There were plenty of ways he could proceed, but Renoir thought it best to start simple. He moved his hands to Bleu’s hips and pulled the gardevoir as tight against his body as his chest spike would permit, which ended up being primarily in the hip and crotch region, something that suited Renoir just fine. Then, he leaned forward and pressed his muzzle against Bleu’s lips. Given the state he was in, Bleu wasn’t able to reciprocate the kiss he was being given, but Renoir didn’t mind being the one leading things. He thrust his tongue as deep into Bleu’s mouth as he could—familiar territory to him, now. He lapped at it, wrapped his tongue around Bleu’s own, did everything and anything that matched up with the trifold purpose of being loud, eye-catching, and above all, pleasurable. It certainly fulfilled that last purpose, in part due to how effectively it did the first two. It wasn’t something Renoir got to indulge in very often, on account of a strong respect for Darrell that led him to avoid any ostentatious displays that could potentially upset his trainer, but he did like putting on a show sometimes. A bit of an exhibitionist streak, he supposed, which he felt was quite reasonable. After all, who wouldn’t want to look at him? Renoir pulled away from the kiss, a few lines of saliva connecting his muzzle to Bleu’s lips. He was still just as deep in his trance as before, though some amount of what he was experiencing seemed to be making its way through; the gardevoir’s face was flushed, and his breathing, while still deep and steady, was coming just a bit faster than it’d been before. It’d certainly done something for him, as well. Over the course of the kiss, his cock had fully unsheathed itself, and was pressed against Bleu’s stomach while it drooled a steady stream of pre against his skin. Oh, but he was ready to go, and given the freedom he had, the pull to indulge in his fondness for footplay was strong... But, no. Rufus had gotten on him for his exotic tastes more than enough for Renoir to know that he probably wouldn’t take kindly to him indulging them. Best to play things safe for the time being; he’d get his chance eventually. Ignoring his own urges, Renoir pressed his nose against Bleu’s shoulder and started to lower himself to his knees, taking a deep drag of the gardevoir’s scent as his nose made its way lower and lower down his chest. The salt of his sweat and the natural scent of a pokémon’s body were dominant, but there was something else there, too; something subtle, almost sweet, dancing just on the edge of his perception. Renoir had detected it before, always fleeting and implacable, but now he could definitively attribute it to Bleu. That was about all he knew about it, other than the fact that it drove him wild. What [i]was[/i] it about Bleu? The gardevoir had appeared out of thin air, and suddenly he was the centre of attention. Even Renoir couldn’t help but spend a fair portion of his time thinking about him. There was something about him that was just so... fuckable, to put it crassly. Cecil definitely shared that point of view with him. And, as a glance out of the corner of his eye confirmed, so did Rufus. He was trying to hide it by angling his body to the side, but Renoir could still see the way his sheath was starting to thicken, a spot of reddish-pink already visible at its tip. All according to plan. Actually, that made what he was doing sound like some sort of trickery or deception—Renoir preferred to think of it as a team-building exercise. With that thought in mind, he moved his muzzle from the spot it’d buried itself into the crook of Bleu’s thigh around to the gardevoir’s front, eager to continue fostering a strengthened sense of camaraderie. Bleu’s cock stuck out in front of him, bobbing up and down, pre dribbling from his tip and rolling down his shaft in glittering beads. The tip of it was aligned perfectly with Renoir’s lips, and the scent wafting off of it filled his nostrils. Now, this was familiar terrain. Renoir was quite familiar with the subtle art of cocksucking from time spent with Cecil, and he’d learned how to do it quite effectively and incredibly loudly, a fact which Rufus could attest to and had protested before. Not that his protests had done much; yelling just didn’t work on Cecil, and it was very difficult to chastise someone who actively had a dick in their mouth. The memories of him trying brought a smile to Renoir’s face, threatening to sweep him up in nostalgia. Before his mood could shift, Renoir opened his muzzle and pushed forward, taking the tip of Bleu’s cock into his mouth. The musky, salty flavour bloomed across Renoir’s taste buds as Bleu’s pre was smeared across them, more quickly following as it was coaxed out by the zoroark’s soft, warm tongue. A tongue that was perfectly shaped to collect it, its flatness allowing Renoir to lap at close to all of the underside of Bleu’s cock at once, wiping it clean of all the fluids the gardevoir had drooled over himself for him to swallow down. They tasted good. Everything about Bleu tasted good, felt good, from the flavour of his saliva to the way his tongue had felt buried between Renoir’s asscheeks. Renoir glanced up at the gardevoir’s face, expecting to see it contorted in some look of pleasure—and found it blank as ever, a slight blush across his cheeks the only sign that what he was doing was having any effect. Right, the hypnosis. Renoir was supposed to be fixing that, wasn’t he? He supposed he wasn’t doing a very good job of that. Renoir glanced over at Rufus and found that, rather than seeming annoyed at his glaring inefficiency, the lycanroc’s arousal had grown into a rather prominent erection that was poorly hidden behind the pair of paws clamped over his crotch. Perhaps doing a little more than hiding at that, Renoir noted; they did seem to have a bit more motion to them than mere modesty demanded. A kind of rubbing motion. Well, if he wasn’t solving Bleu’s problem, the least Renoir could do was share his good fortune. Letting the gardevoir’s cock slip free from his lips with a pop, Renoir turned to face Rufus, flashing him a wide smile that was only amplified by the streaks of pre marking his muzzle. “Enjoying the show?” Renoir asked, to no response from Rufus but a growl and a sideways look aimed as far from Renoir’s face as possible. He swore he could even see a blush burning underneath the white fur of his face. It was the most adorable Renoir had ever seen the lycanroc, a sight that he would kill for handed to him on a silver platter. Renoir knew just the way to repay him for such a treat. He reached up and grabbed Bleu by the hips, turning him sharply to the side so that his back was angled towards Rufus, then shifted his grip lower. A quick brush was all it took to move Bleu’s skirt apart, and before it could fall back into place, Renoir clasped his paws around the two soft cheeks that laid just underneath. He gave them one good squeeze before spreading them apart, baring the hole that laid between them for Rufus’ appreciation. “You’re welcome to do a bit more than watch,” Renoir said. Rufus visibly jolted at those words. He gave Renoir a glance, then flicked his gaze down to what he was doing with his hands. His reaction was like something out of a cartoon. His eyes locked on Bleu’s backside, growing wider and wider, and his whole body pivoted to face it. It seemed that he hadn’t been counting on Renoir to be the sharing type, and now that the opportunity was presenting itself, the lycanroc was overwhelmed by it. Who would’ve thought that all it took to get the stone cold Rufus drooling was a bit of generosity? Well, generosity that involved an offer of the ass he’d been drooling over, anyway. Renoir’s grin widened alongside Bleu’s ass as he pulled his hands farther apart, letting Rufus really see just how much the gardevoir’s hole could stretch. “Not like you weren’t just going to jack off the moment we were done here anyway,” Renoir said. “Might as well work off that energy now, hmm?” Renoir could see Rufus squirming where he stood, struggling against the temptation to walk forward and indulge himself in the opportunity Renoir was offering. The only thing stopping him was one last tidbit of hesitation, presumably from the prospect of having to deal with Renoir while he had his fun. “If you don’t, I will,” Renoir said, giving Rufus a wink and a grin from around Bleu’s side. That was enough to convince him. After shooting Renoir a look that fell just short of an outright snarl (four), Rufus started walking forward, finally removing his paws from their position clamped over his crotch... And Renoir’s eyes widened at what he saw. Rufus had always been very careful not to get involved in his and Cecil’s activities in the past, so Renoir had never gotten a chance to see Rufus in his full glory. Not for lack of trying; it was purely a matter of Rufus never staying out in the open for long when he was ‘exposed’, and the fact that the bathroom had frosted windows. Now, though, he had a full, uninterrupted view of what Rufus had to offer. Surreptitious glances at Rufus’ sheath had given Renoir a general idea of what to expect, but it was impossible to really know how big he’d get from such an inspection, which meant that there was no way for Renoir to predict the absolute monster the lycanroc had jutting out from between his legs. He had enough size to give Cecil a run for his money, and considering Cecil was a thirteen-foot long dragon, that was a staggering accomplishment. And unlike Cecil, Rufus had a knot slapped onto the base of his cock to boot. Renoir was familiar with knots, being that he had one himself, but the one Rufus was sporting still managed to impress him. Even uninflated, it was about the size of a fist, and it was only going to get bigger by the time Rufus was ready to stick it inside. Feeling the fur on the back of his neck prickle, Renoir glanced up, and saw Rufus giving him a look of mild irritation (which he considered to be worth four and a half). It occurred to Renoir that he might’ve been staring a bit more blatantly than he’d intended. He couldn’t help it; as ornery as the lycanroc might’ve been, he was really, really hot. Renoir gave a smile and a small shrug, at which Rufus just rolled his eyes. What Renoir wouldn’t give for an opportunity to wrap himself around the root of that knot. That would have to wait, though; as it was, Rufus was only tolerating his presence because it meant he got a shot at Bleu. A shame, but he’d have his own opportunity at some point. Until then, he’d enjoy the show on offer—and maybe help himself to a share of Bleu, to boot. As for Rufus himself, he’d gone back to ignoring Renoir to the best of his ability, instead choosing to focus his attention on what had convinced him to do what he was doing in the first place: Bleu. Specifically, the part of Bleu that was spread open and winking at him, spread wide by a pair of paws that he was pretending did not exist. There were all sorts of things Rufus wanted to do to Bleu. Some of them he’d been thinking about from the moment they first fought, but most of them had only occurred to him after their encounter in the bedroom. That was less than twenty-four hours ago. In that time, his fantasies had become so luridly detailed they made his head spin. The situation wasn’t anything Rufus would’ve predicted for himself. Perhaps it was a bit haughty of him, but he thought of himself as the moral backbone of the team. Darrell had good intentions but poor implementation, Cecil went with the flow too much to guide it himself, and Renoir seemed to be actively malevolent. Rufus was the only one who woke up early to train, the only one who really pursued training on his own time at all. His time was managed, and he had no desire to spend any of it humping his teammates. Until Bleu had entered the picture. He still didn’t understand it. From the moment Rufus had laid eyes on the gardevoir, he’d been all he could think about. His svelte limbs. The way his hips flared out ever so slightly, adding that touch of femininity to his figure, as if the skirt hadn’t done enough. His eyes, enough to lose yourself in, even if they did appear to be a little lost themselves at that particular moment. That perfectly white skin, matched by beautiful blue. Beautiful Bleu. Was it love? Rufus didn’t know. He’d never felt love before, so he had nothing to compare it to. Sure, he knew the kind of protective affection that a pokémon felt for its trainer, but this most certainly wasn’t that. It was an obsession, a continual barrage of increasingly explicit thoughts centring around this gardevoir that had just so happened to wander into his life. Viewing it through that lens, Rufus supposed he did know the answer to that question after all. It wasn’t love; it was [i]lust.[/i] He still didn’t know why he felt it, but that was no longer important. Rufus had tried to keep it reined in with his usual stoicism, and he’d failed. Now, it was clear that the only way he could deal with it was by indulging it. Rufus moved closer still, Bleu’s skin finally coming into contact with his fur. The gardevoir’s crest wasn’t nearly as prominent from his back as it was from his front, meaning Rufus was able to press against him until their bodies were flush against one another, chest to back—and more importantly, crotch to rear. His cock was pressed into the valley of Bleu’s spread ass, grinding against the hole between them. He dug his muzzle into the crook of Bleu’s shoulder and inhaled deeply, filling his nose with the scent of the gardevoir’s body. Arceus, just the smell of his neck was enough to make Rufus’ cock throb, pre drooling out the tip of his cock and down across Bleu’s tailbone, smeared across the crack of his ass by Rufus’ continual grinding. An unconscious shudder rolled through Bleu’s body at the same time as Rufus let out a growl, low, deep, and possessive. Renoir let out a quiet snicker from below, but at that point, Rufus didn’t care what he thought. His need for Bleu had far outpaced any reservations that he might’ve held before, and more importantly, any desire he might’ve had to take things slow. No more foreplay; he needed to fuck, right then, right there. Rufus pulled his hips back, letting his cock drag down across Bleu’s tailbone until the head of it was aligned with the gardevoir’s asshole, pointed tip digging ever so slightly into the folds of it. His dick throbbed and let loose a fresh gush of pre, some of it joining what he’d already smeared there, the rest of it forming thick droplets that rolled down Bleu’s taint. It was a testament to Rufus’ immense level of restraint that he didn’t just slam his hips forward and bury himself up to the knot right then and there. The idea did cross his mind, and it was tempting, but Rufus did possess some concern for Bleu’s well-being in spite of the... admittedly rude way he’d been acting towards him. That thought did give Rufus pause, but not for long, because nothing could make him pause for very long with the level of ardour that was pumping through his veins. A second after it’d occurred, the thought was swept out of his mind, pushed aside by the pressure of his lust. Rufus pressed his hips forward, and he could Bleu’s entrance spread apart as the first inch of his cock slid inside it. Renoir watched Bleu taking that deliciously thick cock from his position on his knees, leaning around the gardevoir’s side to get a better view, with more than a little jealousy. He hadn’t even gone into things with the hopes of getting a piece of Rufus, but it still irked him that the newbie was the one to get first dibs instead of him. It almost felt like a slight, though not one from Bleu; after all, it wasn’t like he’d intentionally fried his own brain to get into Rufus’ pants. That seemed like a touch too crafty a plan for the gardevoir to come up with. Which meant there was exactly one person left for Renoir to blame, and as Renoir was not one to let people walk all over him with impunity, that meant there was one person Renoir needed to take vengeance against. Hopping back up to his feet with a slap as his erection slapped against his stomach, Renoir inspected Rufus with a look of undisguised annoyance (which, he supposed, counted as a point in Rufus’ favour). The lycanroc showed absolutely no sign of acknowledging Renoir’s presence, though now it seemed to be caused less by intentionally ignoring him and more due to the fact that his attention was completely and utterly stolen by the gardevoir sinking lower and lower onto his cock. Bleu himself was just as zonked as ever, though the intensity of the blush burning across his face suggested that he was aware of what was happening to him on some basic level. The way he was drooling pre all over himself hinted at that conclusion a fair bit, too. Both of them in exactly the state he needed them to be in. Shifting towards the one of Bleu’s shoulders not occupied by horny, panting lycanroc muzzle, Renoir leaned in and brought his mouth right up to the gardevoir’s ear. “When I clap my hands together, you will return to complete awareness,” Renoir whispered, breathing the words as softly as he could so that Rufus, ears less than a foot away, wouldn’t be able to hear. He spread his paws apart, arms flexing as he prepared to bring them back together as loud as he could... And then he stopped. The chaos that would cause would be absolutely brilliant, but if he could give commands like that, why not go a step further? He’d already demonstrated that he could control Bleu physically; the possibilities that sort of manipulation offered were boundless. So Renoir leaned back in and whispered once more. “Cowgirl position, ride him good.” Renoir would’ve wondered whether or not Bleu would be able to carry out a command that complex, but there wasn’t enough time for the thought to cross his mind before the gardevoir was springing into motion. With a level of dexterity that utterly belied his altered state of consciousness, Bleu threw his weight backwards, directly into Rufus’ chest. Had he been expecting it, Rufus doubtlessly would’ve been able to hold his ground and keep Bleu in place, but the idea of Bleu doing anything but standing and staring like he’d been doing for the past twenty or so minutes hadn’t even occurred to him. As such, even the lightweight gardevoir could muster enough force to have him stumbling backwards, at which point it was just a matter of pressing his momentum to have Rufus falling onto his back—and Bleu along with him, ass still pressed against his crotch. And just as he’d instructed, Bleu started bouncing up and down on Rufus’ lap, ass coming down against Rufus’ lap with a slap every time he did so—in [i]reverse[/i] cowgirl position, Renoir couldn’t help but notice. Well, guess he couldn’t expect everything out of someone whose mind had been so addled he didn’t even know where he was. “You ought to thank me, Rufus,” Renoir said, reaching down and stroking himself idly while he watched Bleu work himself up and down Rufus’ cock like some sort of sexual automaton. “Now you don’t even have to lift a finger, just lie back and enjoy yourself.” “D-dammit, Renoir,” Rufus said, making some attempt to push himself back up before a particularly hard bounce from Bleu had him flat on his back again and letting out a cross between a growl and a moan. “Why do you always have to be so confrontational? There is a saying about looking gift horses in their mouths, you know, though I suppose in this situation ‘gift gardevoir’ would be more appropria—” Before Renoir could arrive at wherever his meandering train of thought was taking him, Rufus let out another growl, louder, full of greater amounts of both determination and anger than the last one. With a mighty heave, he shoved Bleu up off of him and moved up into a half-kneel with his arms splayed out on the ground in front of him, vaguely resembling a wild animal ready to pounce. “What is your [i]problem?[/i]” Rufus shouted, baring his fangs and punctuating his words with a snap of his jaws. “First you trick me into doing this, and now you’re fucking me around again! I swear to Arceus, I’ll—” “While I do truly empathize with your anger,” Renoir said, cutting off Rufus’ ranting with a haughty coolness which suggested that statement wasn’t completely true, “perhaps you’d like to finish up before you start chewing me out?” Renoir gestured down with a tilt of his head, and Rufus looked underneath himself, though it really wasn’t necessary to do so. He could feel Bleu squirming around beneath him with strange, sleepy motions, trying his best to continue riding Rufus’ cock even while he was face-down in the grass. Rufus thought for a second. He was incredibly, overwhelmingly pissed, but he was also about halfway to busting an absolutely massive nut in Bleu’s ass. It was far easier to cum first and be angry later than be angry first and cum later. Rufus knew that for a fact; he was angry a whole lot, and the few times he’d tried to jack off while angry had been... ineffectual. So Rufus grunted, leaned forward, planted his paws on the backs of Bleu’s shoulders, and started slamming his hips into the gardevoir with all the strength he could muster. Some small amount of the concern that had made him go so slowly in the beginning still lingered, but it was easily brushed aside; he’d given Bleu more than enough time to adjust to his size, which meant there was no reason for him to hold back in the slightest. The air was filled with the constant slap of thighs against ass with every one of Rufus’ thrusts, each accompanied by the lycanroc’s heavy grunts and the sound of Bleu’s cock slapping against his belly. It was difficult to hear anything else through that din, but Renoir was pretty sure he could hear Bleu letting out quiet moans under his breath, forced out of him even in his hypnotized state from the sheer force of Rufus’ fucking. It was fast, wet, intense, and utterly consumed both of them. Which left Renoir in the perfect position to slink around and take up a position behind the two of them. It was certainly a wonderful spot to observe from: he could see Bleu’s ass tugging at Rufus’ cock every time he pulled out, and the way his asscheeks jiggled whenever he thrust back in, as well as the way Rufus’ balls came down and smacked against his taint. It wasn’t quite why he’d moved to that spot, but Renoir was more than happy to amuse himself by watching and squeezing the base of his knot while he waited. He didn’t have too long to wait, at the rate Rufus was going. The lycanroc’s thrusts had gotten shorter and even more forceful, as unthinkable as that seemed. Each one of them brought that enormous knot of his slamming against the ring of Bleu’s asshole, though he never tried to force it inside. Renoir thought that was a true shame. Bleu would absolutely be able to take it, after all. Maybe it’d be a bit of a stretch, but if he’d managed to take Cecil with no problems, then stretching didn’t seem to be something he had any trouble with. Now, taking it back out might’ve been more of an issue, but that was a problem that could be dealt with later. Ensuring he got to see Bleu take every inch of that glorious lycanroc cock was something that Renoir needed to make sure happened right then and there. So Renoir waited, drinking in the sight of Rufus jackhammering Bleu’s ass with mounting urgency until, with a howl, he slammed himself in right up to where his knot began. His balls pulled up tight against his body, preparing to pump a thick load into Bleu while that knot of his started to swell, doing its best to tie the lycanroc to his mate in spite of it not being [i]inside[/i] said mate... Only for Renoir to step forward and plant his hands on Rufus’ ass. He felt the lycanroc jolt, but before he could do anything to retaliate, Renoir shoved down with as much force as he could muster. Renoir was treated to a very non-threatening sounding yip from Rufus as his knot popped inside Bleu’s ass and was given the opportunity to fulfill its biological imperative—considering Rufus’ disposition, probably for the first time ever. And dear Arceus, did it feel good. Rufus’ rage at what Renoir had just done was inevitable, but at that moment, it was impossible to feel anything but bliss at the feeling of those tight walls squeezing around every inch of his knot. So impossible that he didn’t even think to pull out, could only kneel there and drool as his knot grew bigger and bigger until it was well and impossible to pull out even if he wanted to. Then, another surprise: the sound of a single, sharp clap from behind him. That didn’t grab Rufus’ attention very much. What [i]did[/i] grab Rufus’ attention was the sound of a sleepy groan from underneath him, which rapidly grew in pitch and volume as Bleu started shifting around. “W-what the—” Bleu’s words broke down into a moan as Rufus’ cock throbbed inside him, feeling his knot grow a touch larger and a spurt of pre shoot deep into his guts. He felt the heat from it sharply for only a moment before it dissipated as that bit of fluid joined the rest of the stuff that Rufus had already packed inside him. “Oh, Rufus!” Renoir said, sounding exceptionally pleased with himself. “Very interesting method of training you have there. Might have to take a lesson myself!” Rufus didn’t say a word, didn’t even bother growling before he lunged at Renoir—and made it all of two feet before the genius of Renoir’s plan made itself known. Rufus’ momentum was stopped in his tracks by the tie, all his forward motion transformed into a strong yank on his knot before both him and Bleu dropped to the grass with a yip and a squeak. And while it might’ve been a bit uncomfortable for both of them, that harsh stimulation was exactly what was needed to bring Rufus to his peak. He let out a groan, and at the same time, Ardwin felt the lycanroc’s cock throb and his knot grow just the slightest bit larger. A bulge was travelling up the length of his shaft, working its way deep into Ardwin’s body. He had just enough time to register it and figure out what it was before it reached the tip of Rufus’ cock and exploded into him. A blast of liquid heat, shooting directly into his guts with all the force of a dragon—which was something Ardwin could now say with confidence, having been on the receiving end of one before. The main difference was that now there was something keeping all of it plugged inside him, and pressing against his prostate with every spurt. Judging by how utterly soaked he was with his own pre, Ardwin assumed that he’d been teetering on the edge for some time, and Rufus’ finish was enough to finally push him over it. His voice joined Rufus’ as he let out a moan and, without being touched by either of them, his cock throbbed between his legs and let out a thick dribble of cum. Half of it ended up rolling down the insides of his thighs, the rest of it dripped down onto the grass below. The both of them stayed in that position, joined at the hip in a pile on the ground, grunting and moaning as one pumped the other full of cum and the other let his release dribble out of him and onto the ground—until they heard a laugh coming from above. Renoir was laughing. It wasn’t a belly laugh, only a dry chuckle, the same laugh that Renoir always did whenever he found amusing or just wanted to incite anger in Rufus. It certainly did that effectively; just hearing it was enough to make Rufus’ blood boil even in the best of times, which meant that the current circumstances had it so he was about ready to murder the zoroark. He didn’t, though. Not out of any lack of will to do so or doubt in his ability to put up a fight, but simply because Rufus couldn’t really do much in terms of combat with his knot lodged inside Bleu, shifting around inside him with every motion. Especially when he was [i]still[/i] cumming. He’d never felt violently angry while cumming before, though he’d gotten pretty close. It was an experience that he’d be fine without repeating. Though he still took a swipe at Renoir’s legs, just for good measure. As expected, he was a couple of inches too far to make contact, and all he accomplished was getting Renoir to step back with another one of those condescending laughs. “Woah, now,” Renoir said. “How’s that for gratitude? I suppose I’ll return once you two lovebirds have separated, then. Maybe spending a quarter-hour with your knot jammed into Bleu will improve your disposition.” With that, Renoir turned and walked back towards the house, the sound of his laughter fading out until it was imperceptible over the sound of Rufus’ growling. Then, even that stopped, leaving Ardwin to lie there in silence, bursting at the seams with confusion and lycanroc cum. That confusion was not abetted in the slightest when he heard Rufus mumble something under his breath. “I’m sorry.” The fans in Ardwin’s mind were still spinning up, but that definitely kicked them up a notch. It took a solid seven seconds of intense thought before he could muster an appropriate response. “What?” Rufus let out a low growl, one that sounded less angry and more shameful or embarrassed. Maybe pained—Ardwin did wonder if it didn’t physically hurt the lycanroc to apologize. Considering the way he’d been treating Ardwin, it sounded like a viable theory. Actual words came shortly after. “I’m sorry for all of this. I should’ve known better.” Oh. “Uh.” “And,” Rufus said, continuing on like he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to get through his apology if he lost the slightest bit of momentum. “I’m sorry for being such a...” Ardwin’s response was immediate, slipping past his lips before he even had a chance to think about it. “Dick?” The regret was immediate, but Rufus took the remark in stride. “Exactly. I’m just... bad at interacting with people. I hope I haven’t ruined anything between us.” Ardwin didn’t know how to feel about that. Everything was weird and strange, and whenever he thought he was starting to get used to it, things just got weirder and stranger. All of the pokémon around him seemed to be constantly fluctuating between wanting to fuck him and wanting to be his friend, and now even the one that he’d thought hated him had joined in. In contrast, Ardwin’s behaviour was perfectly predictable, and the only problem was that it seemed to be continually trending towards him being on his hands and knees under every male pokémon in a five mile radius. Always hornier, ever diminishing amounts of restraint, and now with blackouts on top of all that which just so happened to leave him in the perfect position to be abused whenever he used his psychic powers. That didn’t seem like a situation that was going to stop soon, either, what with him having a trainer intent on making use of them. “Bleu?” Rufus said, jolting Ardwin out of that line of thought. Right, confusing apology. No time to lament over even more confusing life situation. “Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, we’re good.” “Good,” Rufus said—and for just a second, he did something that Ardwin had never seen out of the lycanroc before. He smiled. And, despite everything he was going through, all the worries running through his mind, Ardwin found himself smiling as well. --- “C’mon, man, just a quickie. We can even go to the bedroom to do it, if you want.” Ardwin had learned to step carefully to avoid any unwanted incidents. He’d finally gotten his own bed to sleep in, so nighttime tended to be safe. Most other times, he could stick around either his trainer or Rufus, and that warded away potential encounters. Except for the times when the encounters [i]were[/i] Rufus, anyway, but those were somewhat rare. However, he did still need to eat, and it seemed that the kitchen was just as much a hotspot as it was the first day he stepped foot in the house. Mostly on account of Cecil. Ardwin wasn’t sure if the dragonair actually did anything other than eat and try to get in his pants—or under his skirt, as it were. And it did occur to him that the best possible way to defuse the situation and escape unscathed would be to just say no. Unfortunately, saying no when he was propositioned had proven to be even more difficult than arranging his entire schedule to minimize time spent alone with any one pokémon. Considering he couldn’t even manage that, that was quite the statement. Ardwin tried to take a step back, but found his back pressed up against the door of the fridge. Cecil moved into the foot of space between them so that his body was pressed up right against Ardwin’s, scales rubbing against skin. “You got nothing else going on, anyway. I’ll even do that thing you like with my tail, right up your—” “Oh, there you two are!” The sound of Darrell’s voice came from the hallway across the room, and Ardwin jolted hard enough that it was a wonder he hadn’t come right out of his skin. Cecil, on the other hand, didn’t seem taken the slightest bit off-balance by his trainer walking in on him trying to slither his way into a good time. He turned his head back, looking over at Darrell with an even face that contrasted sharply with Ardwin’s deerling-in-headlights expression. But seeing as how both of those were rather typical looks for both of them, neither that nor the fact that they were practically grinding up against each other right there in the kitchen attracted any undue attention. Darrell walked in and leaned against the counter while Renoir and Rufus came in from behind him, Renoir leaning against the doorway while Rufus walked across the room and took up a spot as far away from him as possible. “I was just about to ask these guys to find you,” Darrell said, then clapped his hands together. “I’ve got news!” Oh, no. News. And hand clap news, at that. That was the worst kind. Ardwin steeled himself, and Cecil gave up on his attempts at getting some for the time being, slithering away from Ardwin and taking up a spot closer to the others while he listened attentively to what Darrell had to say. “I’ve got a source telling me there’s a pokémon in the forests north-east of here. A big one!” Darrell paused. “Well, not big, like, physically. Like, powerful, I mean. But maybe big physically, I don’t know!” That... didn’t sound like very credible information. That sounded like a vague location and an even vaguer promise of ‘powerful pokémon’. But, as if he could sense his suspicion, Darrell jerked around to face Ardwin and stared right at him with just about the most excited look he’d ever seen on his trainer. “I know this probably all sounds a bit fuzzy, but this is the same source that told me where to find [i]you,[/i] so I know it’s legit! We gotta check this out.” As soon as he’d let that bit of information slip, Darrell had already turned back to the rest of the team, meaning he wasn’t able to see the effect his words had on Ardwin. The closest thing comparable would probably be having a live taser jammed up underneath his skirt, albeit without the sound. Ardwin had never gotten much information about what had led up to his capture, and he hadn’t thought to ask. He’d just assumed that Darrell had just happened upon him while out trawling for pokémon. Now, he was learning that his capture had apparently been premeditated. Darrell kept talking, but his words went right through Ardwin’s mind like water through a sieve. All he could think about was the fact that Darrell had been [i]looking[/i] for him. Why? Who’d known he was out there? Who’d told Darrell? For what purpose? Why, why, why? “...and we’re shipping out in two hours, so I want all you guys ready to go by then! We’ll meet up back here, alright?” Cecil, Renoir, and Rufus all nodded in acknowledgement. It took Ardwin a few seconds to realise that what Darrell had said required a response, but a few seconds after the rest of the team, he gave a nod of his own, far less confident than those of his teammates. “Great,” Darrell said, flashing a smile and a double thumbs-up that, frankly, Ardwin thought was a bit excessive. “See you guys then!” As soon as they were given the go-ahead, the rest of the team started moving past Darrell and into the hallway, off to do whatever preparations they all thought necessary before they headed out. Ardwin wasn’t sure as to what those preparations were; after all, Darrell was the one who had to worry about all the kit. They didn’t really have anything they needed to bring. That was the main reason behind why Ardwin stayed put, not moving until the last of his teammates had stepped out of the room and he finally decided that he might as well pretend to be busy until it was time for everyone to meet up. He started towards the hallway on the opposite end of the kitchen... ...and made it all of halfway there before a hand grabbed his shoulder, and he practically jumped out of his skin. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just that, y’know... I’ve been standing right here the entire time, so I thought you’d, uh, see me.” Ardwin turned to face Darrell, calming down a bit once he saw Darrell looking back at him with that disarming, slightly awkward smile. Everything about Darrell was slightly awkward, really. It was a quality that made it hard to stay on edge around him. Usually, anyway. This time, he held that smile for only a few seconds before tearing his eyes away from Ardwin’s, looking off to the side with something that went beyond his typical awkwardness and into outright discomfort. It was a feeling that was infectious; Ardwin could feel stomach dropping with a nervous anticipation of what was to come. What that was, exactly, he couldn’t say, but he could already tell it wasn’t anything good. “I just wanted to talk to you for a second. Alone. It’s about...” Darrell drew his hand away from Ardwin’s shoulder and used it to scratch at his face, shifting around and twisting his feet into the ground where he stood. Anything but look directly at Ardwin and say what he was trying to say. “Ah, how do I put this...” He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and then relaxed them as he let it back out. “I understand that you’ve been getting [i]friendly[/i] with the others, right?” The slight emphasis he put on ‘friendly’ made it clear exactly what he was trying to get at, even if he was too embarrassed to come right out and say it. All Darrell’s innuendo had accomplished was making Ardwin just as embarrassed as he was, if not a dozen times more so. Darrell [i]knew.[/i] Sure, Ardwin hadn’t exactly been subtle, but he’d been pretty sure that he’d at least been doing it when Darrell wasn’t around to see or hear it—or smell it. If he were still able to speak English, he would’ve been babbling excuses. But his body language must’ve been enough to communicate the sheer level of mortification he was feeling, because Darrell rushed in to ameliorate the situation. “Hey, listen, it’s fine. You guys can do whatever you wanna do. It’s just that, uh, I’d prefer if you didn’t do it when I’m trying to sleep. Our rooms are right next to each other and, thin walls, y’know? Eheh.” Well, [i]now[/i] Ardwin knew. He’d been assuming that the walls were pretty thick, what with all the rest of the house being so damn palatial. Apparently, he might as well have been getting plowed right outside his trainer’s door every night for the past week. He wanted to scream. But he couldn’t, because Darrell wasn’t finished talking yet. “A-and when I came inside earlier, you guys kind of left a, uh, a scent, in the kitchen. And residue. I’d appreciate it if you guys could clean up after you, y’know. Finish.” Oh dear Arceus, he [i]could[/i] smell it. He hadn’t thought that earlier because he’d imagined it as an actual possibility. The bathroom, the kitchen, the hallways, him and the rest of the team had probably been making them stink of sex the entire time without even knowing it. Mostly Cecil. He was the only one who couldn’t wait to go somewhere with any measure of actual privacy. Ardwin turned his head down, bringing his hands up towards his head so he could bury his face in them. Though he didn’t quite manage it. Before he could, he saw something that he hadn’t been expecting but, considering the path that his life had taken up to that point, he probably should’ve. Tan slacks. More importantly, a bulge in those tan slacks. A very large and noticeable one. Darrell had a boner, and more to the point, he had an enormous cock. “We should... talk about this. In, uh, private.” The universe was turning out to be even more of an asshole than Ardwin had thought. First Rufus, now Darrell was trying to get under his skirt. This was even weirder, though; Rufus was at least a pokémon, but Darrell was very much not. How was it that someone of his... nervous disposition, had the gall to hit on his own pokémon? That was unclear, but the fact remained that Ardwin was his pokémon, and that meant he didn’t really have any ability to refuse. So when Darrell grabbed his wrist with an exceptionally sweaty hand and started leading him off towards the hall, Ardwin just allowed himself to be dragged along. To a complete lack of surprise, Ardwin found that Darrell was leading him to a bedroom, though not the one he was used to sleeping in. No, Darrell walked right past that and onto his own bedroom, the master suite. It was just as spacious as the name implied, though not even half as decorated. Apart from a handful of pieces of furniture, the bedroom didn’t really have much in the way of visuals. It was spartan, but in the sort of way that didn’t seem intentional, more a result of a lack of effort or ability on the part of the decorator. Or, more likely, the absence of one entirely. Ardwin was sure Darrell had the money to hire someone to dress the public-facing areas of the house, considering how nice they were, but he doubted that Darrell felt it necessary to do the same to his bedroom considering the amount of people he brought to bed with him—zero. Though when Darrell ushered Ardwin inside before he shut and locked the door behind the two of them, he figured that number was going to increase to one in the very near future. When Darrell turned around, Ardwin could see his hands shaking as they pulled away from the deadbolt. “Can I touch you?” Darrell said, voice teeming with something that, for once, didn’t sound like awkwardness. It was still full of nerves, but with none of that stuttering second-guessing that he usually struggled with. It was something more like mania, fuelled by a large shift in blood from his brain to certain other places. Ardwin couldn’t really give a response, on account of the language barrier, but Darrell didn’t wait for one. Barely a second passed between the words leaving his mouth and him moving forward, hands outstretched in front of him on a direct course for Ardwin’s body. The first place they went towards was the spike protruding from Ardwin’s chest. Darrell held it by the bottom with one hand while tracing his fingers up and down along its side with the other, staring at it like it was some marvellous thing and not the inconvenient protrusion that Ardwin had come to regard it as. “Wow,” Darrell murmured. “It’s so smooth.” Ardwin squirmed under his touch, a gesture Darrell was either purposely ignoring or was completely oblivious to. More likely the latter; he seemed utterly transfixed by actually getting to [i]touch[/i] Ardwin, even somewhere that was far and away from being any sort of erogenous zone. “You’re really, really hot,” Darrell mumbled, moving his hands away from Ardwin’s spike and onto his chest proper. Ardwin, out of some decidedly unconscious impulse, leaned forward into his touch, arching his back so that his chest jutted out in front of him. By the time he realised he was doing it, it was already at a point where stopping and moving back into a more natural posture would’ve seemed awkward. That seemed to be a trait he shared with Darrell, albeit in reverse: his trainer was too awkward to do things, and he was too awkward to go back on them after his instincts had driven him to do them. Of course, now that Darrell had apparently conquered that hangup enough that he was able to openly grope Ardwin with only the barest hint of hesitation, that definitely put him a leg up. “Could you, uh,” Darrell said, continuing to rub his palms directly over Ardwin’s nipples, “lie back? On the bed?” On the one hand, it was very obvious what Darrell wanted to do on the bed. On the other, going onto it meant that, for at least a second or two, Darrell would stop touching him. Ardwin stepped back and out of Darrell’s reach, sitting down on the foot of the bed. He shuffled back onto it and flopped back, his head landing among the pillows with a [i]pomf[/i] of air from the mattress. Ardwin’s reprieve was short. The moment he’d gotten comfortable, Darrell was moving onto the bed as well, crawling up next to him. He laid down on his side and nestled himself in among the pillows, front pressed against Ardwin so that he could feel his trainer’s bulge pressing against his hip, twitching and throbbing. “I hope I’m doing this right,” Darrell said, setting his hand down on Ardwin’s thigh like he was being forced to touch a hot stove before starting to slowly stroke it up and down his side. “I’m not good at, uh, the sex... foreplay. Stuff.” That much was apparent.[a] Still, however amateurish his technique might’ve been, he was still getting results—Ardwin could feel his heart beating faster, and heat rising in all the places he’d become intimately familiar with over his time with the rest of the team. Apparently, it wasn’t just pokémon; anyone who was packing something between their legs and showed so much as a passing interest in him had the ability to get his motor running. And, despite all the activities he’d gotten up to over the past however-many days with Rufus, Renoir, and Cecil, he still didn’t like that. Being so liberal with his body made him feel low. Shameful. Used. But the worst part was undeniably the fact that he was starting to get used to that feeling, expect it—and even miss it when absent. “Oh, actually,” Darrell said, pulling away from Ardwin and rolling over to the far side of the bed, “could you wait a second?” Darrell leaned over, pulled open the drawer of his nightstand, and started rummaging around inside. “Juuust a second,” he repeated, digging his arm deeper into the drawer than seemed physically possible. Not really seeing any other option, Ardwin did as he was told and waited. What was he looking for? A condom? That’d be a change. “A-ha!” Darrell exclaimed, drawing something out of the nightstand and flipping back over to face Ardwin with it gripped in one hand. Ardwin’s guess had been incorrect; it wasn’t a condom. It was a smooth and shiny object with a purpose and a job Ardwin recognized and was familiar with. Put bluntly, it was a dildo. Purple. Decently sized. Even had a knot on the base. Maybe Darrell was more into pokémon than Ardwin had originally suspected—’originally’ being before he’d pulled Ardwin into his bedroom with clear intent to fuck him, of course. “I call him, uh, Rex,” Darrell said. “Would you like to... meet, Rex?” Being formally introduced to an eight-inch hunk of silicone was probably in the top three of Ardwin’s worst least favourite moments, somewhere below wandering half-starved and exhausted through the forest. Darrell seemed to be at least somewhat aware of the sheer awfulness of what he’d just said, because he didn’t wait for any sort of acknowledgement before he started crawling across the bed towards Ardwin. Then again, that might’ve just been Darrell being Darrell. While he had a surplus of self-consciousness, it seemed solely to make up for a complete lack of self-awareness and good decision making. “I was thinking that it would be hot if you, like,” Darrell said, words spilling out of him as he moved towards Ardwin, “kinda, like, licked and sucked on it? To get it wet? Like, I just think that would be something I’d... like.” Ardwin liked to think that he’d dislike that, but as he’d been shown time and time again, what he liked to think didn’t always line up with how he actually ended up liking, to put it in like terms. Such was proving to be the case here; when Darrell leaned forward on one hand and poked him in the face with the dildo, he couldn’t even laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, because it was giving him a boner. “Please?” Darrell said, sounding remarkably sincere while he continued to press the tip of the dildo into Ardwin’s cheek. Ardwin sighed, then moved his head to the side to align the head of the dildo with his lips. The things he did for his trainer. Out of all the hardship he’d experienced, this was definitely giving him the most sympathy for what his now-fellow pokémon had been forced to put up with all this time. Darrell certainly didn’t hesitate in taking advantage of the opportunity. In fact, the moment Ardwin showed the slightest bit of compliance, Darrell shoved the dildo forward and a good couple inches past Ardwin’s lips. Ardwin felt the tip of it press against the entrance to his throat, but he didn’t gag. He’d had more than a little practice in regards to mouth stuff, and he didn’t mean kissing—though Cecil could go deep enough with his tongue that what Darrell was dishing out was nothing in comparison. “Wow,” Darrell said, voice low and breathy with awe as he continued to feed the dildo bit by bit into Ardwin’s readily accepting throat. “How are you so good at this?” Ardwin’s immediate response—unspoken, on account of the ever increasing amount of silicone lodged in his gullet—was that this wasn’t his first day off the turnip truck. He knew what he was doing; he had [i]experience.[/i] And a few seconds and inches after that, Ardwin realised that he was feeling prideful, even outright haughty about having performed enough blowjobs to have developed a talent for them. That pride didn’t last for very long after he identified its source, replaced by an equally strong feeling of shame, particularly when he felt the bulge at the base of the dildo press flush against his lips. He was right; he did have experience. And that meant he’d fallen far too deep into his new position for comfort. Darrell pulled the dildo back out of Ardwin’s throat and then free from his mouth, the head slipping past his lips with a pop and a gasp. He fell back onto the bed, panting to catch his breath. Skilled as he might’ve been, air remained a necessity, and somewhat difficult to obtain when you were stuffed to the gills with a rubber phallus. Darrell stared at the dildo in his hand for a moment, rubber made slick and shiny with saliva. Then, he leaned forward, planting a kiss on Ardwin’s spit-streaked lips. It didn’t involve tongue, and it lasted no more than a second or two. In the face of the feat of deepthroating Ardwin had just accomplished, the gesture seemed downright chaste. In spite of that, Darrell pulled back from it with an even redder blush burning across his cheeks—with Ardwin looking very much the same. It was strange that after all the intense and unabashedly perverted things he’d experienced at the hands of the other pokémon, a simple kiss still had the ability to fluster him. Then again, looking at the shy smile Darrell was flashing him, adorable in the barely restrained excitement it possessed, perhaps it wasn’t that strange after all. “I, uh...” Darrell said, face close enough to Ardwin’s that he could feel his trainer’s hot breath against his lips with every word. “Can I fuck you? With this? Please?” For once, Darrell actually seemed to be waiting for permission. Apparently, shoving a dildo down someone’s throat was one thing, but sticking it up the opposite end was another entirely. The gesture would’ve been touching, had it not been preceded by half a dozen examples of him neglecting to perform it. Still, Ardwin appreciated it in spite of its lateness, and while he didn’t exactly [i]want[/i] to agree.... he figured there was no point in backing out after they’d come as far as they had. So, with a near imperceptible nod of his head, he agreed. Darrell’s smile lit up with a mixture of relief and excitement, though Ardwin only got the chance to see it for a few seconds before Darrell was shimmying back, moving himself down towards the lower half of Ardwin’s body. His hands set down onto Ardwin’s knees, gently urging them apart, and Ardwin obliged. A memory sprung to his mind of when Renoir had tried the same trick without Ardwin’s being aware of his presence, and his instinctive reaction had been to lash out with a kick that very nearly inverted the zoroark’s snout. He hadn’t, though, and the whole situation had been promptly followed by a hard and proper fucking. Judging by the way Darrell was gripping his dildo hard enough for his knuckles to turn white, Ardwin guessed that much the same was going to happen here. With a flick of the wrist, Darrell flipped Ardwin’s skirt up and onto his belly. At long last and for only the second time that day, Ardwin was exposed before someone intending to have their way with him. His slender, milky white thighs were laid bare, framing a set of plush and shapely cheeks—along with his achingly hard cock, lying and dripping against his belly above. It was something that, while it might not have been what Darrell had set out looking for, nevertheless captured his interest. The hand gripping the dildo set itself on the bed by his side while his other came forward, grabbing a hold of Ardwin’s member. Ardwin gasped. Funny as it might’ve seemed coming from someone who spent his days getting fucked by egregiously endowed pokémon, he was quite sensitive. Probably because of getting fucked every day by egregiously endowed pokémon, actually; his own equipment didn’t really see much use, so he supposed it was only natural that it’d be in such a state. “Wow,” Darrell said, squeezing down on Ardwin’s cock and earning a powerful throb from the gardevoir in response. “You’re, uh, really drippy.” That was no surprise. Ardwin had found that he’d become the drippy type, and all it took to get him going was the slightest bit of sexual pressure. A casual flirt, a subtle bit of handsiness, and oops, the inside of his skirt was getting sticky. He found it to be a nuisance. Most of the others found it to be varying degrees of amusing or convenient. Darrell certainly seemed to appreciate it, judging by the way he rubbed his finger and thumb together, marvelling at the thickness and sheer amount of what Ardwin had been able to produce. “I w-wonder how much more you’ll be making once I start using this,” Darrell said, brandishing his dildo. His eye twitched ever so slightly, no doubt a bit ruffled that his slick line had been ruined by an inopportune stutter. Ardwin felt mildly astounded. Darrell was not assertive, to put it as lightly as possible, and every second he was attempting to be seemed like an active struggle. It was a big difference from what Ardwin was used to. Typically, Renoir, Rufus, or Cecil would rush things along whenever one of them decided they wanted a turn with him, and it was all he could do to keep up. But not with Darrell. With Darrell, it felt like Ardwin was one harsh look away from getting out of the whole situation scot-free—and yet he didn’t. For all the grief he’d felt over not having any control over the situations he was forced into, now he was being given it in spades, and he wasn’t taking advantage of it in the slightest. And he had the gall to complain about it, too. Ardwin smirked despite himself. Maybe he did take things too seriously after all. Darrell, not having the luxury of being a psychic and therefore unable to hear Ardwin’s inner monologue, took his smile as a sign of encouragement. Responding with a grin of his own, he brought the dildo forward and aligned the tip of it with the crack of Ardwin’s ass. Part of Ardwin was expecting him to slam it in with all the grace and finesse of an angrily horny tauros, but that turned out to be an unreasonable assumption on his part. Clearly, even predictably, Ardwin was well versed in the art of toying. Sure, doing it to someone else had to be a change of pace from the self administered treatment that he was no doubt used to, but the basic principles were the same. Darrell seemed to have no trouble with it, anyway. His movements were smooth, precise, full of mastery that could only come with experience. Once he had the head of the dildo lined up with Ardwin’s entrance, spit smearing across his ring, he pushed it forward with gentle but rapidly mounting pressure. It wasn’t long before the first inch was digging its way past the initial tightness of Ardwin’s sphincter, and once his walls had been breached, the way was spearheaded for the rest to follow. It sank deeper into him, inch by inch, ushered along by the constant pressure of Darrell’s hand. Oh, but he had skill. Always varying the strength of his hand, shifting the angle at which he was pressing, all adding up to a constant forward momentum that made Ardwin suck in a breath through his teeth out of pleasure and the barest hint of pain, just enough to give things an edge. His work was so good in comparison to the absolutely dreadful way he presented himself that Ardwin had to wonder if Darrell wasn’t some kind of sexual savant. That feeling was only intensified when Darrell, continuing to work the dildo into his ass with one hand, reached up and grabbed a hold of Ardwin’s cock with the other. Then, he had to deal with not only the sensations of his prostate being ground down by however many inches of medical grade silicone, but also five fingers gripping his shaft, squeezing and stroking with agonizing slowness. He was quite good at it. How often had Darrell done this, stayed up late at night toying himself while masturbating, edging for hours on end? Probably more times than he could count. How many times had he done it while listening to Ardwin getting a similar treatment at the hands of his other pokémon just next door? It was impossible to say, but Ardwin wagered the number was more than zero. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Darrell was certainly tackling his work with all the same silence he had all those theoretical nights of self-pleasure. He was utterly absorbed in the act of penetrating Ardwin’s body, even with a rubber facsimile instead of his own equipment proper. Just having the opportunity to please Ardwin as he was doing seemed enough to totally consume him and wipe away any trace of the doddering nervousness he so often displayed, replacing it with something approaching reverence. Approaching, but not quite there. Ardwin could see, though more so feel, an urgency forming in his motions. A gradually building energy with each thrust in and out of Ardwin’s ass, betraying some greater need going unfulfilled, a hunger for more. A telepath would probably be able to feel it radiating from Darrell like heat off of a furnace, but with his psychic powers either nascent or non-existent, Ardwin had to rely solely on visible, physical signs to detect it. Not that those were any more subtle; Ardwin could feel Darrell’s breath on his thighs. He was panting, practically drooling over him. Things were rapidly approaching a breaking point. As it turned out, the thing that broke was Darrell’s patience. With a growling huff that sounded uncharacteristic coming from someone Ardwin had always thought of as silent and simpering, Darrell pulled the dildo free of Ardwin’s ass in one fast, smooth motion. Ardwin gasped as the fullness he’d grown accustomed to was suddenly replaced by emptiness, and after one last squeeze from Darrell’s fingers, his cock was left to flop back against his stomach, equally ignored. Ardwin even heard a whine escaping his lips, proof right alongside his clenching hole of exactly how thoroughly Darrell had managed to wrap him around his finger—or, more accurate to the situation, how much he hadn’t. In just a few short minutes, Darrell had completely reversed their roles. Now Ardwin was the one nervously awaiting what was to come, and Darrell… Well, he supposed Darrell hadn’t so much taken Ardwin’s role as he had made his own out of whole cloth. Ardwin had certainly never shown any of the intensity that now shone in Darrell’s eyes as he pushed himself up and forward, crawling over top of Ardwin and staring down at him like he was some sort of wild beast. Like who was a beast, Ardwin or Darrell? Both of them, he supposed, but both in sharply different respects. Darrell was a conquering predator, and Ardwin his prey, both of them utterly consumed by the passions boiling inside them. Darrell grabbed Ardwin by the chin, the toy he’d been holding in it before having been discarded at some point. As to when, Ardwin couldn’t say; he was no longer aware of such things, only of the heat of Darrell’s body against his, and the far greater heat of desire burning in his chest. As Darrell turned Ardwin’s face up to look into his, though, he was forced to engage with another of his senses: the sight of Darrell looking down at him, staring deep into his eyes. Could he see right through them, into the roiling chaos that Ardwin’s mind had become? The idea was ridiculous, absurd, yet somehow seemed plausible to Ardwin’s frazzled mind. Darrell’s next action did nothing to dispel the idea: he leaned down and pressed his mouth to Ardwin’s, locking the gardevoir into a kiss. It was nothing like the fretful peck that he’d provided last time. This was a right and proper kiss, as wild and powerful as anything he’d experienced at the hands of the other pokémon. Darrell’s tongue thrust itself past his lips and probed his mouth, exploring it with all the forceful self-assuredness that Ardwin had thought him utterly incapable of. What was it that had come over Darrell? Was just a bit of arousal all it took to turn him from nervous dork into swaggering alpha male? Ardwin had no idea, and he wasn’t in any position to think about it. All he could do was writhe in Darrell’s arms when they wrapped themselves around him and moan into his mouth, taking everything that Darrell had to offer and craving yet more. Darrell didn’t hesitate in offering it. In a feat of strength that Ardwin wouldn’t have thought possible coming from someone as scrawny as Darrell, he lifted Ardwin clean up off the bed, gripping him tight to his chest—and, with only a bit of shimmying, burying the head of his cock between Ardwin’s asscheeks. When had Darrell undone his slacks? Ardwin didn’t know. At some point, his begrudging, almost jaded acceptance of what was happening to him had become genuine enjoyment so wild that he was completely lost to the world. He’d managed to centre himself for only a moment before he was lost yet against when, with a thrust and a shove, Darrell slammed Ardwin down onto his cock. That was all it took before Ardwin felt the human’s balls slap against his ass, having managed to hilt him in a single thrust. Ardwin instinctively tensed up from the sudden penetration, clenching down tight around Darrell’s cock, before letting out a loud moan as he melted into his arms. This was a fucking unlike any of the others he’d experienced. Cecil was too relaxed in his approach, Rufus too repressed most of the time in spite of his best efforts, Renoir too Renoir. [i]This[/i] was sheer dominant energy, someone grabbing him and fucking him with all the lack of concern, all the sheer, primal need that he’d come to crave. And it was coming from Darrell. The shock he felt at his trainer’s sudden heel turn was starting to feel repetitive, but that realisation did nothing to lessen its effects. The only thing that took his mind away from it was Darrell pulling his hips back before slamming up into him again, cock driving into his guts hard enough to have him see stars. “Good boy,” Darrell murmured, burying his face into the crook of Ardwin’s neck while laying down kisses onto the bare skin he found there. Ardwin felt a powerful shudder roll through his body, half from everything that was happening to him physically, half from the words that had just come out of Darrell’s mouth. Had he been talking to Renoir? No, that was impossible, what with the whole language barrier thing. How did Darrell know to call him that, then? He had to know what effect those words had on him. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Ardwin just had that look, that attitude about him, that made people want to call him that. Which meant that it wasn’t just a name; he was, at his core, a good boy. That line of thought quickly had him shivering in Darrell’s arms. Thankfully, the trainer himself showed no such signs of overwhelmment, nor the slightest hint of fatigue. His arms stayed wrapped around Ardwin’s back, strong as ever, while he continued to slam his hips up into Ardwin in those large, bed shaking thrusts. It was more strength and endurance than Ardwin would’ve expected out of someone as scrawny as Darrell, one of many expectations that had been broken that evening. It was difficult to say exactly how many—Ardwin had stopped keeping track at roughly the same time as Darrell had first stuck his dick inside him. But as ridiculously and unexpectedly wonderful as the whole experience was, the speed and intensity of it was rapidly bringing it towards a finish. Both of them could sense it, in the short and fast motions Darrell was thrusting into Ardwin with, in the exceptionally high notes Ardwin’s whines and moans were reaching. An assortment of signs, all pointing to them racing towards an inevitable conclusion. Ardwin was the first to reach it. His release was about as subtle as everything that had preceded it—a token attempt at restraining himself that was near instantly trampled by the assortment of loud moaning whimpers clamouring to make their way past his lips. And below, from its position sandwiched between Ardwin’s soft belly and Darrell’s just-present abs, Ardwin’s cock was twitching and throbbing as it drooled out one last contribution to the mess splattering both their stomachs. It was creamy white, standing in stark contrast to the clear pre Ardwin had already smeared the both of them with. The clenching of his body as he rode the waves of his orgasm was enough to push Darrell to his peak, as well. Letting out a grunt, Darrell swung his hips up and sunk himself balls deep into Ardwin’s ass, right as those balls were pulling up against his body in preparation for a massive finish. He did not disappoint. Ardwin felt Darrell’s cock let off a powerful throb inside him, followed by a shot of wet heat surging directly into his insides. The flexing of Darrell’s dick meant strong pressure against Ardwin’s prostate with every rope of cum that was shot into him, dragging out his release with every second his trainer spent pumping him full of hot cum. A few moments of bliss, then it was over. Both of them came down from their high, thoroughly spent and covered in cum, with one of them packed full of it. Darrell lowered the two of them down onto the bed, laying Ardwin down on his side so that he could effortlessly slip into a spooning position— “Uh, was that good for you too? I hope I wasn’t too, y’know, like, um, pushy.” —and with that, the last dregs of whatever dominant spirit had come over Darrell vanished like wisps of smoke in a stiff breeze. Ah, well. It was fun while it lasted. --- Just as Darrell had promised, they’d all filed into his van two hours later, both him and Ardwin freshly showered and acting as if everything was completely normal. As if they hadn’t spent a third of that time banging up in the bedroom. Then again, Ardwin supposed that was pretty normal, considering the general tone his interactions with the rest of the team had taken. Honestly, more notable than that was how they’d managed to fit all thirteen feet of Cecil into the backseat. He supposed that was why Darrell had invested in an SUV. The question of why he didn’t just put them in their poké balls occurred to Ardwin, but he let it go—he wasn’t chomping at the bit to go back in one, himself. The drive out was uneventful. Hours of rolling across poorly maintained asphalt, watching the view out the windows give way to increasingly rural surroundings until they’d abandoned all signs of civilization but the power lines running alongside the road. Darrell kept his attention focused on driving, leaving the rest of the team to entertain themselves as they would. That meant Renoir doing his hardest to discover Rufus’ last remaining nerve, Rufus looking out the window with as angry a glare as the countryside had ever seen, and Cecil sitting as cool as ever in the backseat—though he did lean over Ardwin’s headrest quite frequently, nuzzling, whispering, being as handsy as he could manage without actually having hands. Ardwin dreaded the day he evolved and nature at long last endowed him with the ability to grab things. Darrell didn’t take any notice of it, though. If he did, he didn’t say anything; Ardwin doubted that his trainer would feel in a position to lecture anyone on sexual misconduct considering how he’d prepared for the trip. The drive took three hours. Ardwin had never known so sexually charged a road trip in all his life. When the van finally pulled to a stop and Darrell moved to undo his seat belt, Ardwin was already pushing his way out the door, eager to get blood flowing back into his legs and away from other, unwanted places— Only to see that they’d pulled up right to the edge of a forest trail. Ah, right. They’d come this whole way to search around the wilderness for some supposed powerful pokémon. Which meant that he was going to be spending all that time walking around with the others, nobody else around for miles and miles. He heard Cecil slithering across the grass, moving up behind him. It seemed that he wasn’t going to be out of the woods for a good, long while. --- And he was right. They didn’t leave, not even when the sun started to dip below the horizon and an eerie twilight fell across the forest. Before they’d started their search, Darrell had toted out backpacks for all of them, including a special one built to accommodate Cecil’s lack of shoulders, all packed with enough camping supplies for each of them. Clearly, Darrell was set on sleeping in the woods if their search didn’t turn up anything before nightfall, and Arceus knew how long he’d be willing to keep things up for. With the sun setting and filling the sky with a strange, purplish-orange light, the forest had felt like a mystical place. Foreboding, magical. The perfect time for any equally magical and mystical pokémon to make themselves known. If their search was going to yield any fruit, Ardwin was sure it would be right then and there. They found nothing. Twilight gave way to darkness. It was only when it’d gotten too dim to properly navigate that Darrell declared that they’d be setting up camp. Well, not declared. That was too assertive of a word. More suggested. The other three were more than willing to hit ground, and seeing as how he hadn’t particularly wanted to spend his day crawling around the forest to begin with, Ardwin was more than happy to stop as well. So they did, shrugging off their packs as soon as they found a suitably flat piece of land—apart from Cecil, on account of a dire inability to shrug, though he did a bit of a slither to accomplish a similar result. They dumped out their contents, and after some shuffling through the resulting heap, started setting up the tent. There was a notable lack of a plural, there. For whatever reason, be it for space or just because he liked sleeping with his pokémon (from what Ardwin had experienced, that seemed to be the more likely rationale), Darrell had only brought a single tent for the five of them. Surprisingly enough, it was big enough to fit them all—the fact something like that could fit in a single backpack was a marvel of engineering. But Ardwin was less impressed by that and more relieved. A single tent meant he was going to have Darrell just a few feet away at all times, meaning that none of the others on the team would try to get up to any unsavoury activities throughout the night. Of course, the thought that Darrell was now in on that sort of business himself did occur to him, but it didn’t unsettle him. After all, even if he had shown an interest in indulging in such things, none of the rest of the team knew about that, and Darrell didn’t seem like he was eager to make that information known. He certainly wouldn’t go so far as to out himself by trying to get up to anything in the middle of the night. It was a delicate balance that would only hold in place as long as Darrell maintained the illusion that he [i]didn’t[/i] want to fuck his pokémon. Ardwin was sure they could maintain that state for at least a night or two, however long Darrell was intent on having them wander around the woods. And thankfully enough, they did. Once they’d all piled into the tent and gotten set up in their sleeping bags (again apart from Cecil, due to there being a lack of sleeping bags in excess of thirteen feet), they spent their night doing something that Ardwin had been doing precious little of over the past few nights—sleeping. Sure, there were a few sneaky gropes that Ardwin couldn’t identify the perpetrators of on account of the darkness, but nothing more than that. As far as he was concerned, that was a win in his book. The night wound on, the moon rose higher, and they all started dropping off into sleep one by one. First Cecil, then Darrell, then Renoir. Rufus was the last, probably fighting against some urge to keep watch every step of the way to unconsciousness, as if there were anything more dangerous than a caterpie for half a mile in any direction. Well, he was second last. Even tired as he was from walking around all day and grateful for the opportunity to engage in some sleeping instead of sleeping [i]with[/i], Ardwin just wasn’t nodding off. He laid there, warm and comfortable in his sleeping bag, not a troubling thought in his mind to keep him up, yet he felt wide awake. Though perhaps that was for the best, because it meant that Ardwin was awake to hear the strange noises coming from outside the tent. They were quiet, right on the edge of his hearing; if he’d had anything to compete for his attention or had actually been managing to fall asleep, he probably wouldn’t have noticed them at all. He did, though, even if he couldn’t make out what they were. They sounded deep and bassy, like the voice of some huge and powerful beast, but they could’ve just as easily been... well, anything else. Maybe even just his imagination. The noises were far too quiet for him to draw any conclusions. But there was no doubt in his mind that something was up, because when he opened his eyes, he could see lights shining through the thin fabric walls of the tent. Once again nothing intense, but far more present than the sounds were, no chance of it being his eyes playing tricks on him. Bright pink, sharp red, vivid yellow, all forming blurry shapes that drifted across the wall of the tent like bits of paper floating across a gentle stream. Then, a few seconds after his noticing them, they drifted off the edge of the tent and disappeared. The sound remained, though, making it clear that whatever it was that was causing these strange phenomena hadn’t disappeared. It was still out there, waiting. It would be easy for Ardwin to ignore all of it and continue trying to go to sleep. It wasn’t as if he had anything that was really evidence: some rumbling that could just as easily be his imagination and some weird lights that could’ve been... something else. Will-o’-wisps were a thing, after all. Stuff like this happened. Nothing about the situation required him to get up and go investigate. But Ardwin already couldn’t sleep, and now he had a mystery to keep him up on top of the insomnia he was already grappling with. Which meant his options were either lie around fruitlessly trying to sleep for the rest of the night, wake everyone up to go searching around for something that was probably nothing... or go check things out himself, just to put his mind at ease that there was, in fact, nothing out there. So Ardwin, ignoring the feeling in his gut that he was making a very bad decision in favour of the logical part of his brain that told him there was absolutely nothing to be afraid of out there, extricated himself from his sleeping bag. Moving silently and taking special care not to wake any of his companions, Ardwin moved over to the door of the tent, unzipped the flap, and slipped out into the night. The sound was louder outside, and he could see the lights again. Their angle had shifted so they were no longer shining on the wall of the tent, but they were definitely still present, originating from some point deeper in the thicket of trees to the east. Ardwin got a brief glance at them before they dimmed and slipped behind the trunk of a tree, once again out of sight. They didn’t look that far. Even if they did turn out to be some sort of illusion, he wouldn’t get lost if he went and checked them out. He’d only have to go, what, fifty feet at the most? Just a quick jaunt over to confirm that there was nothing there, then right back to the tent and into his sleeping bag. Simple. So Ardwin moved to the edge of the clearing they’d pitched their tent in and broached the treeline, threading his way between the pines in pursuit of those lights that always seemed to be just behind the next tree. At some point, he did end up reaching the fifty foot point, but he didn’t stop. Those lights still seemed so close, and there didn’t really seem to be much sense in stopping at such an arbitrary distance when they were [i]right there.[/i] So fifty turned to sixty, eighty, however much distance he’d travelled; at a certain point, he’d stopped keeping track. He’d worry about how far he’d gone from his tent when it came time to go back. Right then, the more pressing matter was getting to those lights, and figuring out what they were. Which was going to be nothing, obviously. It was just very important that he find out for sure that they were nothing. The chase didn’t wind on forever, nor long enough for him to lose interest and turn back. It only lasted just long enough to draw Ardwin out of earshot of the tent. Once he’d reached that point, which just so happened to coincide with another clearing, the lights... disappeared. The sounds, which had remained at that distant sounding volume regardless of how far he moved, finally faded from hearing entirely. He was standing alone in the forest, having wasted around half an hour tromping through the underbrush for no reason. Which was exactly what Ardwin had expected would happen, though he still couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of disappointment. It wasn’t as if he’d wanted to encounter anything, since running into anything while alone in the woods at night sounded like a thoroughly terrible time, but it still felt like he’d wasted his time. But at least now he had some peace of mind, and maybe all the walking would leave him tired enough that he would actually be able to fall asleep by the time he got back to his tent. Turning around, Ardwin started shuffling back towards the treeline, preparing for the long march back. [h2]”STOP.”[/h2] Ardwin stopped. It was difficult to do anything else when a voice loud and rumbling enough to sound like the earth itself was commanding you ordered you to, coming from every direction so that even if you wanted to run, there would be no place to run [i]to.[/i] Hearing something like that was probably a once-in-a-lifetime experience for most, which was why it was funny that Ardwin was already familiar with it. His last encounter with it had resulted in his life being utterly mangled beyond recognition. He had to wonder what was going to happen this time. Well, not quite wonder. More felt a sort of abject, screaming fear about what he was no doubt about to undergo. [h2]”TURN AROUND.”[/h2] That made it sound like whatever was talking to him was behind him, which meant the clear route of escape was just sprinting as fast as he could dead ahead. That was an idea. Then again, considering what the entity had been able to do to him last time without even making himself physically present, Ardwin doubted that any amount of distance would do him much good. Which meant there was no choice but to go along with whatever the voice asked of him in hopes that he could avoid drawing its ire. With all the slow reluctance of someone digging their own grave, Ardwin turned around. There was something in the clearing that wasn’t there before. A shadowy silhouette, standing in the middle of the grass, looking... distinctly unlike what Ardwin had expected, if he was being perfectly honest. While he couldn’t make out any details, on account of the darkness and a strange blurring, shifting effect that played on the edges of whatever being was in front of him, he could see quite plainly just how small they were. Two feet tall at most, though they still managed to remain at eye level through what could only be levitation. [h2]”APPROACH.”[/h2] The voice still came from all directions, but through some sense of energy that he couldn’t quite summon forth the words to describe, Ardwin was sure it was coming from whatever was in front of him. That and common sense; it wasn’t as if the mysterious shadowy figure that had just appeared out of nowhere could [i]not[/i] be related to everything that was going on, after all. The inexplicable sensations just made that conclusion all the more set in stone. Ardwin didn’t want to go near it, but he really didn’t want to know what would happen if he refused to obey its commands. So, shaking all the way, Ardwin began his approach with slow, small steps forward. Closer and closer. The whatever-it-was remained in its position in the air, waiting patiently as he walked, until there was only five or six feet left between them—far too close for comfort. Then, in a way that was far too dramatic and perfect to be anything but a subtle display of power, a cloud moved away from the moon and allowed a ray of moonlight to shine perfectly onto the two of them. The shadows, just how unnaturally dark they were made clear only as they left, dissipated. Ardwin was finally able to really see what it was that was in front of him. It was small, that much he’d already gathered. Now, he was also able to see that it was pink. Pink, big eyed, vaguely cat-like and cute in a strange, alien sort of way. The only sort of cute that befitted the kind of strange, reality-warping creatures you met in the forest at night. It was Mew. A mew? Ardwin didn’t know, and nobody else really did, either. Mew was one of the few pokémon where folklore and religion seemed just as legitimate as modern science. Both had just as few answers to offer; most kept the pokémon shrouded in mystery, with any specific details given being contradictory and without any evidence to speak of. All they could agree upon was general appearance, and the fact that whatever Mew was, it was very, very important. Ardwin, like most sane people, didn’t like having the attention of important things. It never meant anything good. That meant that, despite how utterly non-threatening the pokémon in front of him looked, he could do nothing but stare ahead and try to keep his jaw closed while anxiety built to a fever pitch inside his mind. “Surprise!” Mew said, speaking in the same omnidirectional voice as before, though now toned down to a volume and pitch that seemed far more suitable for something as small as they were. “Betcha didn’t expect to find me out here, huh?” That was putting it lightly, though ‘lightly’ seemed to be an effective word to describe everything about Mew. Their voice was dripping with the kind of carefree joy that was typically reserved for small children and not legendaries of unknown yet potentially earth-shattering power. It was very disorienting to experience. So disorienting that Ardwin found himself continuing to stare for a good five seconds, failing to respond to what he only then registered was a question. The corners of Mew’s mouth tightened in the silence. “Jeez,” Mew said. “Another one of you staring types, huh? How come the first thing you humans do whenever you meet a legendary is gawp? Could at least be bothered to respond.” “‘Human’... that means—” “Yeahyeahyeah,” Mew said, waving away the response they’d been asking for with one hand. “Big reveal, stunning revelation, I know the stuff you’ve been going through. I even dipped my toe in there a bit. You ever wonder why everyone’s wanting to fuck you all the time? I did that! Mostly entirely just to see what would happen.” That [i]was[/i] a pretty stunning revelation. Ardwin, while he had obviously never known for sure why everything had happened to him as it did, had hoped on some level that there would at least be a reason for it. As it turned out, that reason consisted solely of a legendary pokémon feeling bored. He’d come out this far into the woods expecting nothing, and yet he was still managing to feel somewhat disappointed. “Oh, you’re one of those people,” Mew said, rolling their eyes while their tail flicked once behind them. “I can sense emotion, you know. You’re feeling all shitty because there wasn’t some ‘higher purpose’ to all this. As if attracting the interest of a legendary wasn’t enough. One of the bigger and dare-I-say cuter ones, too. That’s gratitude for ya.” Ardwin was actually starting to feel a bit indignant, which was definitely a dangerous way to feel when dealing with a pokémon as strong as what he was dealing with, but he couldn’t help himself. “Gratitude? I—” Mew took it in stride and cut him off before he could say anything that would warrant his getting unexisted, or worse. “You’re lucky you’re so fun to screw with, or I’d probably want to do something to you right now.” They paused for a minute, scanning their eyes up and down Ardwin’s body while crooking their mouth to the side. “I mean, I kinda want to do something to you anyway, if you know what I mean. Whatever. Your team’s gotten a whole lot of divine interest lately, you know that, right?” That was not part of the handful of things Ardwin knew. Mostly, he was confused about everything and irritated at being constantly cut off. “I don’t—” Two words, then steamrolled again. Ardwin wondered whether anyone was ever going to allow him to finish a sentence. “Yeah, no, you probably don’t. You don’t seem to know a lot of stuff. Kinda empty up there. Makes it really fun to manipulate you, though!” Mew was probably the least intimidating legendary out of all of them. All the others were terrifying dragons, birds so huge that they could swallow you down in a gulp, stuff like that. What was Mew? A small, pink almost-cat. Maybe it was that, combined with the casual disrespect he was being treated with, that gave Ardwin enough angry, stupid confidence that he did something he absolutely shouldn’t have done. While sucking in a breath through his nostrils, he took a single step forward. He wasn’t actually going to do anything, apart from give a sharp word to what was, as far as he knew, a god. Mew didn’t know that, though—or if they did, they wanted to make an example out of him regardless. As soon as Ardwin started moving, Mew waved a hand, and Ardwin made no second step. Complete paralysis from feet to head, leaving him only able to move his eyes. He probably would’ve toppled forward right onto his face, were it not for invisible lines of force looping around his body and keeping him upright. That was considerate, at least, he guessed. The fact that Mew wasn’t allowing him to mash his face into the dirt did imply that they weren’t angry about what Ardwin had just done, though that didn’t do much to placate the raging fear Ardwin felt over how hard he’d just fucked up. “Why are you always scared, or mad, or mad and scared, or scared and mad?” Mew said, whirling through the air around Ardwin as they spoke, shifting in and out of his field of vision. “I’d thought you’d take to this a whole lot more than you have, honestly. You still act all weird about it.” Mew came to a stop in front of Ardwin, and he could feel the paralysis that had gripped him shift, returning him control of his mouth. “Tell me,” Mew said, “what’s your name?” It was clear that Mew was expecting a response, though it still took a few good seconds for Ardwin to break through the fear and hesitation and actually offer one. “Ardwin?” Mew scoffed and flicked a wrist, letting the paralysis creep back up and wrest control of Ardwin’s mouth once more. “I know your name, silly. That was a test. Seems you don’t, though.” Mew splayed out on the air in front of Ardwin, as if they were lounging on some sort of invisible bed, even going so far as to prop their head up with an arm. “It’s Bleu now, isn’t it? I’ve been keeping tabs on you, I know what all your friends call you. That’s what your trainer named you, isn’t it? Duncan or Douglas or whatever.” What, did they mean Darrell? As soon as the thought crossed Ardwin’s mind, Mew snapped their fingers and flashed a smile. “Darrell, [i]that’s[/i] what I was looking for. Thanks.” Oh, good, mind reading. As if Ardwin wasn’t enough of an open book as it was. He shut his eyes tight, as if that would be enough to keep Mew’s eyes from seeing straight into his mind. “Oh, come on. See, this is exactly the kind of thing I was talking about: you’re always bellyaching. I thought getting fucked a whole bunch would improve your disposition, but now you just whine about that, too. Why—” [h2]”MEW.”[/h2] Ardwin’s eyes shot open at the sound of that familiar baritone, reverberating in his chest. He could see that Mew had an equally surprised expression, which quickly had his heart sinking into his gut. Attracting the attention of a legendary was bad enough; he sincerely didn’t want to see what it was that put a legendary on edge. “Yes?” Mew said, in as sweet and innocent a voice as Ardwin had never heard from them. [h2]”WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY CREATION?”[/h2] “You’re always pulling that card,” Mew said, crossing their arms and screwing up their face in a pout. “Just ‘cause you created the universe. You ever heard of sharing?” [h2]”MEW.”[/h2] The last syllable of the word dragged, like the tone a parent would take when chiding a misbehaving child. Considering the situation, that might’ve been more accurate than not. Ardwin wasn’t sure. He wasn’t really sure about anything that was going on, as seemed to be becoming a theme in his life. “What?” Mew said, throwing their arms up in the air. “I wanted to see him get fucked a lot. What do you want from me?” [h2]“I WOULD PREFER IF YOU USED YOUR POWERS FOR MORE CONSTRUCTIVE PURPOSES INSTEAD OF INTERFERING WITH MY DESIGNS.”[/h2] “This was plenty constructive! He learned a whole bunch of valuable lessons. Isn’t that what you were trying to do?” [h2]“YOU HAVE BEEN MANIPULATING THE MINDS OF MORTALS PURELY SO YOU CAN WATCH THIS MAN FORNICATE WITH THEM.”[/h2] “I prefer a more hands-on approach to my moral teachings. Hey, if you’re gonna lecture me, could you at least come out? You know I hate talking to nothing. [h2]“VERY WELL.”[/h2] There was a flash of light to Ardwin’s right, out of his vision but still bright enough to force him to shut his eyes against it. When he opened them again, there was... well, he wasn’t sure what there was, on account of being unable to see it. He was pretty sure there was something, though. Ominous flashes of light like that just didn’t occur unless something had magically appeared. Sure enough, it only took another second or two before something wandered into his sight. Something that stood twice Ardwin’s own height, meaning it completely dwarfed the diminutive Mew floating in front of him. Arceus, it was big. No, scratch that, no ‘it’ necessary: Arceus was big. The flowing white fur, the black underside, the golden trim complementing their legs. More telling than all that was the jewelled wheel wrapped around his abdomen, the one unchanging element in the dozens of subtly different depictions of Arceus he’d seen over the years. Ardwin had moved up from dealing with a quasi-divinity to the full on creator of the universe. Were he not paralysed, he would’ve fallen to his knees right then and there. It was probably for the best that he didn’t, because judging by the look on Mew’s face and what little expression he could discern on Arceus’, he was standing right in the middle of a... lovers’ quarrel? Family argument? Some bout of petty bickering, whatever the specifics. [h2]”I HAVE TOLD YOU SEVERAL TIMES NOW THAT I DO NOT APPRECIATE YOUR MEDDLING WITH MY WORK.”[/h2] “If you keep talking like that, you’re going to give me a headache.” When Arceus spoke again, their volume had been modulated from booming divinity down to what Ardwin would expect out of a ten-foot tall pokémon. [b]”IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU WOULD DEMAND OF ME?”[/b] Even with as flat an affect as Arceus was sporting, Ardwin could feel the knives in that sentence. If Mew did as well, they certainly didn’t show it in their response. “Nah, that should be it. So what are you mad about, again?” Ardwin’s mind boggled at what he heard. One would truly need saintly patience to put up with that kind of attitude. Thankfully, Arceus being Arceus, their patience was a cut above saintly. [b]“I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOUR PREOCCUPATION WITH THIS SORT OF BEHAVIOUR.”[/b] “What, you mean fucking? Look at how short you made his dress! How was I [i]not[/i] supposed to do something?” [b]”BY PRACTICING EVEN A MODICUM OF SELF-RESTRAINT.”[/b] “You’re only saying that because you never get any.” Arceus stomped a hoof. [b]“I AM A GOD. I DO NOT NEED TO ‘GET ANY’. I FIND MY JOY IN CREATION.”[/b] “That is the most sexually repressed thing I’ve heard in my entire life.” Ardwin could see the red of Arceus’ eyes gleam, teeming with something that, were it anyone but Mew they were dealing with, probably would’ve manifested as a swift smiting. [b]“MEW, WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH HERE?”[/b] “Oh, finally asking what I want instead of just insulting me, I appreciate that. I wanted to fuck this guy. You wanna join in?” Arceus said nothing. Ardwin wasn’t sure if they were just used to this kind of interaction or if Mew had truly managed to give the creator of the universe pause. It wasn’t easy to pick out from Arceus’ expressionless face. [b]“MEW.”[/b] “Yes?” [b]“WHAT YOU ARE SUGGESTING IS NOT ONLY BENEATH ME, BUT IS BORDERLINE HERESY.”[/b] “Come on. You know just as well as me that heresy is a human concept.” Mew’s eyes flicked over to meet Ardwin’s. “Unless you’re trying to convince Bleu here instead of me.” Mew smirked and winked at him. Ardwin did not return the gesture. [b]“I NEED CONVINCE NO ONE. IT SHOULD BE SELF-EVIDENT WHY WHAT YOU’RE SUGGESTING IS UTTERLY RIDICULOUS.”[/b] “Well, I’m not convinced, and it isn’t very evident to me. I think you’re just being wilfully obtuse.” [b]“A DIVINITY ENGAGING IN SUCH ACTIVITIES WITH A MORTAL WOULD SET PRECEDENTS THAT CAN NEVER BE TAKEN BACK.”[/b] “Oh, you and your precedents. As if a ‘precedent’ means anything if nobody knows about it. You know we can wipe memories, right?” [b]“AND YOU BELIEVE THAT USING A MORTAL IN SUCH A BASE MANNER BEFORE MEDDLING IN HIS MIND IS ACCEPTABLE BEHAVIOUR?”[/b] Mew shrugged. “About as acceptable as turning him into a pokémon in an attempt to impart some sort of inscrutable philosophical teaching.” Arceus paused again. [b]“THERE IS NOTHING THESE BASE PLEASURES HAVE TO OFFER THAT YOU CAN’T FIND IN THE MORE REFINED PURSUITS AVAILABLE TO YOU.”[/b] “Don’t be so quick to assume. Maybe the time has come for you to indulge yourself in the gifts you’ve bestowed unto your creations. You might be surprised.” Another pause, the longest yet. Ardwin could feel himself blanch. This conversation couldn’t really be headed where it seemed like it was heading, could it? Arceus was a god. More to the point, Arceus was more than twice his height, and he was sure that size was reflected in all pertinent areas. They weren’t compatible in any sense of the word. [b]“MEW.”[/b] “Arceus.” [b]“I EXPECT YOU NOT TO SPEAK OF THIS TO ANYONE. NOT ANY OF THE OTHER LEGENDARIES, NOT ANY REGULAR POKÉMON, AND LEAST OF ALL ANY HUMANS.”[/b] Mew dismissed his concerns with a wave. “Ah, you have so little faith in me. Do I seem like the kind to do something like that?” [b]“I WILL WITHHOLD MY JUDGMENT.”[/b] “And I’m not going to breathe a word of this to anyone in hopes that you continue withholding your judgment. Shall we?” Arceus gave Mew a short, sharp nod, then something happened. It took a second for Ardwin to pinpoint exactly what it was. It would’ve been far easier if everything that the two of them did was accompanied by fancy flashes and pyrotechnics, but it seemed like they preferred to save the spectacles for entrances only. Mew now had a cock dangling between his legs, uncut, around six inches or so, looking huge and utterly perverse on his tiny body. Looking over at Arceus, Ardwin saw two balls dangling between his hindlegs, a bit larger than a pair of apples. Judging by the lack of anything else, Ardwin assumed that he had everything stored away in a sheath. “I’ll go first, yeah?” Mew said, reaching down to grope themselves with a hand—though Ardwin supposed both of them were ‘he’s now. “Just so I can, eh, show you the ropes.” [b]“I DO NOT NEED TO BE SHOWN THE ROPES. I AM THE—”[/b] “Yeah, yeah, the creator of the universe, I know. But creating the universe doesn’t mean you have [i]the touch.[/i]” [b]“[i]THE TOUCH[/i]?”[/b] “[i]The touch.[/i] Just let me show you, alright?” Arceus relented with a grunt, allowing Mew to float forward until he was right in front of Ardwin, half-hard member only a scant few inches away from making contact with Ardwin’s face. Then, he reached out, placing his hands onto the sides of Ardwin’s head. “Relax,” Mew said. With that one word, Ardwin felt the paralysis that had wracked his body dissipate in an instant, along with the grand majority of his muscle control. He dropped to his knees, only prevented from falling forward onto his face by the gently guiding hands of the pokémon in front of him. They were a good deal stronger than he’d expected, far more than anything he’d think something so small and cute to be capable of. But then, Mew seemed to be all about subverting expectations. The irreverence that he treated everything with, the sheer amount of power he had tucked into that tiny body of his—and, most prominently of all, the disproportionately large cock slapping between his legs. Large relative to his size, anyway. Ardwin had dealt with bigger, but regardless of how manageable its size might’ve been, he wasn’t dying to add ‘fucked a legendary’ to his list of accomplishments. He could hear Mew stifle a giggle. “Jeez, you are the cutest thing. Thinking all those thoughts about how much you don’t wanna do this like I can’t tell just much much you really, really do.” Ardwin turned his head to the side and shut his eyes, which was about the limit of what he was able to do with control over his body remaining firmly outside of his grasp. No, Mew was lying. Sure, he could read minds, but he could also just go and say whatever he wanted to accomplish is own agenda. It didn’t mean anything. “Fine, be that way,” Mew said. Then, Ardwin felt a surge of energy rush down through Mew’s arms, discharging through his fingers and into Ardwin’s head with a flash of pink light bright enough to shine clear through his eyelids—maybe even originating from the inside of his head, for all he knew. Which really was the operative word: knew. Knowledge. Knowing things. He knew that the light he was seeing was pink. Very pink. Strobing. Not strobing very much, just mildly so, almost like it was trying to lull him to sleep. Not very deep sleep, just enough to place him right on the border of lucidity, where you never seemed to have all the pieces of what was going on around you but you couldn’t help but let your autopilot react to them anyway. “Well, that was pretty easy,” Mew said, removing his hands from Ardwin’s temples. Thankfully, Ardwin seemed to have regained muscle control at some point during whatever it was that Mew had done to him, and he had just enough wits about him to catch himself and not pitch forward onto his face. “I was expecting a bit more resistance than that from a psychic, honestly.” [b]“HIS ABILITIES ARE... UNFORMED.”[/b] “I’ll say. I doubt he could so much as bend a spoon as he is. You do that?” [b]“DAMPENING HIS PSYCHIC POWERS WAS NECESSARY TO TEACH HIM WHAT HE NEEDED TO BE TAUGHT.”[/b] “Right. Remind me to ask one of the other legendaries if I ever need to be taught something.” Mew reached out and snapped his fingers in front of Ardwin’s face, then another two times for certainty. Each snap got precisely the same reaction out of Ardwin: absolutely nothing, not even a blink. That might’ve been on account of his eyes being closed, but the lack of even a twitch led to the same conclusion regardless. “Yep, he’s well and out. Now I’ll just—” [b]“I BELIEVE I CAN TAKE THINGS FROM HERE, MEW.”[/b] “What, you sure? That wasn’t [i]the touch[/i], you know. That was just preamble.” [b]“I AM MORE THAN CAPABLE OF FIGURING THINGS OUT ON MY OWN.”[/b] Arceus’ words were punctuated by a loud, wet sounding slap. Mew followed the sound to its source, and peeked under Arceus to see what was causing it. He was met by the sight of a rather equine looking cock, fully emerged from Arceus’ sheath and already starting to leak pre from its tip. It was appropriately sized for a ten foot tall quadruped, which meant that it was big enough to make a mudsdale shudder. When it throbbed, it shot up and slapped against the underside of his body, leaving a smear of pre against his belly and making the sound that Mew had heard earlier. “Alright, yeah, point taken. Can I at least open his eyes first? He looks creepy like this.” [b]“VERY WELL.”[/b] Mew wasn’t any minor league human hypnotist, which meant that there was absolutely no reason for him to whisper his commands. It would be far easier for him to just psychically project them into the mind of whoever he wanted to manipulate. While plenty of the regular pokémon might’ve done that, Mew didn’t. As a legendary, Mew understood that you had to have a certain sense of showmanship. “Open your eyes,” Mew murmured, ruffling a hand through Ardwin’s hair as he spoke. With all the slowness of someone waking from a deep sleep, Ardwin obeyed, blinking once before letting his lids settle halfway over his eyes. His eyes were glowing with a dim pink light, clear evidence of psychic manipulation. Not that Mew couldn’t have suppressed that effect if he wanted, but again, showmanship. Mew floated back, throwing his hands up in the air. “All yours.” Arceus gave no reply, just looped around to Ardwin’s back before planting a foot between his shoulders, pushing him forward. Perhaps out of instincts that had been drilled into him over the nights he’d spent with the rest of the team, he immediately put out his arms and got onto his hands and knees, looking for all the world like he was presenting himself. Arceus stepped forward overtop of him, and that was where the size difference became truly apparent. Seeing his cock hovering over Ardwin’s back and dripping onto the space between his shoulders didn’t bring to mind sexual pleasure, but more a sense of concern. “And you’re going to make that fit how?” Mew said, though for all the opportunity for snark that sentence provided, he sounded legitimately curious. [b] “MY WILL IS DIVINE, AND WILL BE OBEYED.”[/b] “Didn’t really answer my question, but go off.” Mew swung himself around to a spot behind the two of them, not making the slightest attempt to hide how he was ogling to both of their asses, while Arceus started angling his hips to line the tip of his cock up with Ardwin’s entrance. There were no misses; as expected of a god, Arceus got things right on his first try. He lowered himself down, shifted forward, and... Pop. The moment the head of Arceus’ cock made contact with Ardwin’s body, the hypnosis that had clouded his mind dissipated in an instant, like a soap bubble exploding at the slightest touch. Such a powerful mental compulsion, gone with less effort than it took to snap a finger—it was almost impressive, really. Mostly, though, it was confusing. Ardwin’s last coherent memories were of Mew touching him. Now, he was suddenly on his hands and knees with Arceus standing over him with something wedged between his asscheeks. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was. [b]“BE NOT AFRAID,”[/b] Arceus said in that booming voice of his—though judging by the lack of reverberation in his chest, Ardwin could tell that the sound wasn’t vocal, but mental. That suggestion didn’t help very much, seeing as how what Ardwin was feeling pressed against his vulnerable rear had to be at least the size of a fist, with... well, Arceus knew how much length behind it, quite literally. The prospect of being penetrated by that was more than a little disconcerting. Thankfully, there wasn’t much time for Ardwin to worry about that, because Arceus’ words had hardly entered his mind before the pressure against his ass began to build. It mounted and mounted until he was mounted, the build-up lasting all of five or so seconds before an equal length in inches was ramming its way into his guts, paving the way for the rest of Arceus’ shaft to follow at a somewhat more reasonable pace. For a moment, Ardwin was so utterly overwhelmed by shock that he wasn’t even able to make a sound. Then that moment passed, and he was unable to make a sound because he was being filled with an ever-increasing amount of cock that had completely surpassed anything he’d ever experienced before. It stole the breath from his lungs, leaving him unable to breathe in anything other than short, sharp pants. But it didn’t hurt. If it weren’t for his vocal chords already being paralysed from sheer shock, that would be what really left him speechless. He could feel the stretch, so he [i]knew[/i] that he was being stretched wider than ever before in parts of his body that he was only just discovering he was capable of feeling, but there was a queer absence of pain beyond the discomfort that came part and parcel with any sort of serious stretching. Nothing he hadn’t already seen his fair share of. [b]“YOUR PHYSICALITY IS NO OBSTACLE. IT WILL CHANGE TO SUIT MY DESIRES, AS IT ALREADY HAS.”[/b] Arceus continued pushing inside Ardwin at that steady but altogether too fast pace—though whether it was really a matter of speed or just Arceus being ridiculously huge wasn’t totally clear. Probably any pace would’ve felt like too much. Whether or not it was too fast, it was without a doubt too [i]much,[/i] given that a quick glance under himself treated Ardwin to the sight of his stomach starting to bulge out where Arceus’ cock was pressing against his insides. As impressive as he’d discovered a pokémon’s body was, Ardwin was pretty sure they weren’t able to do that under normal circumstances. But of course, he wasn’t dealing with normal circumstances: he was dealing with a god, a complete absence of all the searing pain he’d been expecting, and against all odds, a feeling of excitement in his gut that was translating into a twitching and swelling between his legs. [b]“YOUR SURPRISE IS UNNECESSARY. I AM SURE YOU’VE ALREADY EXPERIENCED THE EFFECTS OF MEW’S CHANGES ENOUGH TO KNOW YOU HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO ENJOY THIS.”[/b] Arceus certainly cut right to the heart of the matter, enough so that Ardwin could grasp his words even while he was struggling to accommodate the gut-strainingly large length he was being filled with. ‘No choice’. That was really the core of things, wasn’t it? He hadn’t really had any choice over anything that’d happened to him since that night in the forest. Which meant he had to wonder— [b]“WHAT AM I TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH BY DOING ALL THIS?”[/b] Ardwin let out a strangled noise that didn’t even come close to resembling any sort of language, be it human or pokémon, then settled for giving a mental ‘nod’ instead. [b]“NOW THAT MEW CANNOT EAVESDROP ON OUR CONVERSATION, I SUPPOSE I CAN TELL YOU. THE LESSON I HAVE TRIED TO TEACH YOU, THE SILVER OF KNOWLEDGE YOU’RE INTENDED TO GLEAN FROM THIS WHOLE EXPERIENCE, IT IS...”[/b] Arceus leaned down until his head was right behind Ardwin’s own, his breath hot on the back of his neck. It was utterly unnecessary, considering hearing him wasn’t any sort of issue on account of the telepathic communication, but the feeling made Ardwin shudder regardless. [b]“NOTHING. THERE IS NO LESSON HERE. I JUST WANTED TO FUCK YOU.”[/b] Oh. The small part of Ardwin’s mind contemplating the fact that his life had been made a farce purely to satisfy the sexual desires of the creator of the universe didn’t get much headway before his attention was yanked away by the feeling of Arceus’ balls pressing his own, smaller pair. Judging by that and the frankly ridiculous size the bulge in his abdomen had attained, it seemed that Arceus had managed to bottom out inside him at last. And it felt good. It felt [i]satisfying[/i] to be able to take someone as big as Arceus, even putting aside the obvious physical pleasure that the act was filling him with. That was obvious enough from the steady drips of pre rolling out of him and dripping onto the grass below. As for any mental reservations he might’ve had, he couldn’t really focus on them. The physical sensations he was experiencing translated into an equally strong maelstrom in his mind that made it difficult to think or do anything but kneel there and [i]be fucked.[/i] If his breathing weren’t automatic, he doubted he would’ve had the presence of mind to not asphyxiate. He theoretically would’ve doubted that, anyway. In reality, Ardwin let out a moan and pushed back against Arceus, grinding that cock into his ass. “Wait a minute,” Mew said, the hand that’d been stroking between his legs suddenly grinding to a halt. “I didn’t tell him to do that. Have you been messing with my hypnosis?” [b]“I FELT IT APPROPRIATE THAT HE SHOULD EXPERIENCE THIS FIRSTHAND,”[/b] Arceus said, slipping back into proper vocalization. Mew sighed, then resumed his masturbation. “You never appreciate the things I do for you.” [b]“YOUR MIND CONTROL SEEMED UNNECESSARY.”[/b] Arceus pulled back a few inches before throwing his hips back sharply, his body coming against Ardwin’s with a sharp slap. Ardwin let out a loud moan, arms collapsing underneath him so that only his backside was kept up the air, suspended purely by the cock he was skewered on. Mew whistled. “Alright, fair, point taken.” Arceus pulled his hips back again, slower and further this time, showcasing just how much of himself he’d managed to fit into Ardwin as every inch of his dick dragged across the gardevoir’s sensitive insides. Sensitive and far stretchier than before; Ardwin could feel his body gripping at Arceus’ cock, tugging at it as it moved as if it didn’t want him to leave, but not in a way that even approached the amount of resistance there ought to have been. Yes, Arceus’ changes had certainly done a number on him. He’d been changed into the ultimate fucktoy for a pokémon over twice his height and however-much bigger in every other respect, and if he was being honest, he was starting to come around to the idea—on a purely instinctual level, anyway, as his logical mind had yet to catch up to things. Or even return to functioning since the initial penetration, as a matter of fact. But its presence wasn’t really necessary. He was more than capable of riding on autopilot, just soaking in the feeling of a penetration that should’ve been utterly impossible happening, and not only happening, but managing to squeeze so much pleasure out of him that he could feel the pre being battered out of his prostate dripping off of his dick in fat globs. Arceus had to be aware of the state he was in, with the ability to read his mind having been clearly demonstrated, but he made no comment on it. From the way that his thrusts were starting to speed up, the sounds of fur impacting skin growing ever louder and more frequent, it was rather clear why. Perhaps not to Ardwin, who was in no state of mind to make such observations, but an outside observer like Mew could deduce it easily. “See, now you’re getting into it!” Mew said, now fucking his palm with an equal amount of abandon. “I knew this kinda thing would be good for ya.” Arceus said nothing, but Ardwin felt him wink. Well, give a mental impression that was the equivalent of a wink, at any rate. Mew had no idea just how thoroughly Arceus had planned all this, down to details that none other than Arceus himself could even fathom; it was cute that he thought that the whole thing was his idea. Ardwin was in no state to appreciate that fact. Mostly, Ardwin appreciated the feeling of Arceus starting to thrust in and out of him fast enough that he had started to drool. Drops of saliva would flick off his chin with particularly harsh thrusts. They mirrored the exact same thing happening between his legs, though that was in far greater amounts. They were properly rutting now, with all the lack of restraint that implied—and that absence of restraint was rapidly driving both of them towards their peak. Ardwin could feel that familiar tension winding inside him, and from the way Arceus’ cock was pulsing and throbbing, sending spurts of wet heat into his guts, Ardwin imagined that he was feeling the same. “C’mon!” Mew shouted, the sounds of him stroking himself barely audible over the din of the rutting unfolding in front of him. “Big finish, big finish!” Arceus might not have been listening, but he managed to live up to expectations nonetheless. With a roar, the most primal sound that Ardwin had heard out of him yet, Arceus slammed himself in to the hilt, distending Ardwin’s stomach with an impressive bulge. That impressiveness was magnified by the way it visibly throbbed, shifting around beneath the taut layer of Ardwin’s stomach— Then, as Mew had so eagerly demanded, the big finish. That bulge in Ardwin’s stomach grew yet larger still as a blast of cum shot into him with enough force to visibly press through his belly, if only for a moment. The less momentary changes came with the second spurt, even bigger than the first and pumping enough cum inside of him to cause his middle to visibly swell. It was only slightly, but they were only just beginning; there was no doubt in Ardwin’s mind that Arceus still had plenty left to give. He was correct. Another throb that made Arceus’ dick grind even more violently against Ardwin’s prostate than it already was, another powerful jet of cum delivered straight to his insides, making his stomach grow that slight bit more. Ardwin’s body was doing things he’d never imagined it doing for what had to be the dozenth time that night, and as with all those other times, it was doing nothing but pushing him towards his finish that much faster. And that dozenth time turned into a thirteenth when something Ardwin legitimately didn’t even think was physically possible happened: the pressure of the cum being hosed into him rose up through his body, past his stomach and up into his throat, right before he felt something thick, wet, and hot pushing up from behind his teeth and past his lips to dribble down his chin. The taste hit a moment later. Salty. Masculine. Yep, that was cum, alright. Arceus had cum inside him so much that it was going right through him and out his mouth. Part of him wanted to panic at just how thoroughly his body’s workings had been inverted, but honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Kind of nice, really. It took a very particular type of individual and a very specific state of mind to be able to get off from the feeling of being pumped full of so much cum that it started coming out of the opposite end. How lucky Ardwin was that he had two legendaries that’d been hard at work to transform him into that kind of person. As yet another throb rolled through Arceus’ cock and into his body, Ardwin reached his peak. He let out a loud, strangely bubbling moan as his cock, untouched—as seemed to be quite common with his partners—twitched and started to dribble cum beneath him. It wasn’t anything that even approached what Arceus was putting out, of course, but it was definitely on the larger end of anything he’d ever produced. Probably [i]the[/i] largest, with the way Arceus’ dick was aggressively grinding against his prostate. That stimulation definitely helped it drag on for quite awhile, but as with all good things, it did eventually have to come to an end. Ardwin let loose the last few drops of cum onto the grass beneath him, while Arceus finally finished unloading into his guts, leaving Ardwin with an impressively gravid stomach hanging beneath him. It only started to shrink when Arceus stepped back, dragging his cock back out of Ardwin’s ass and leaving a suddenly formed waterfall of cum in its place, running down along Ardwin’s balls and down his thighs in a thick tide to match what was already drooling out of his mouth. “Dang,” Mew said, wringing the last few drops of cum out of his own cock, having already reached a finish of his own. “Did quite a number on him.” [b]“INDEED,”[/b] Arceus said, the enormous cock that he’d been sporting a second before suddenly winking out of existence without a trace. Mew did the same. Ardwin chose to collapse onto his front, gasping in an attempt to catch his breath after having managed to clear the cum from his airway. “What are you gonna do with him now?” [b]“THE PRUDENT COURSE OF ACTION WOULD BE TO DELIVER HIM BACK TO HIS TRAINER.”[/b] “With all the memories of what you just did to him? You sure that’s best?” [b]“I HAD HOPED THAT YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO USE YOUR ABILITIES TO AMELIORATE THAT ISSUE.”[/b] The corner of Mew’s mouth cracked up in a smirk. “Sure thing, boss. I think I know just what you’re after.” Ardwin felt two hands touch down onto the back of his head, a flash of pink fill his vision—and then didn’t feel much of anything at all. --- Awareness returned at some point. How long he was without it, Bleu couldn’t say, on account of a lack of having it. Judging by the yellowish light of early morning filtering in through the walls of the tent, he had to assume that it’d been a few hours. Apparently he’d been put back into his sleeping bag during that time. Bleu reached down and opened up the sleeping bag, staring down at himself. He looked and felt surprisingly clean, cleaner than all of what he’d gotten up to last night should’ve left him. There wasn’t even a speck of dirt on his knees from where they’d been buried in the grass. Not a single physical sign to show that everything he’d experienced last night hadn’t been a dream. But he was quite sure that it wasn’t a dream. The memories of what he’d experienced were far too vivid, particularly in terms of the more physical elements. Getting fucked, that was. He’d never gotten fucked quite like that, and he doubted that he had the imagination needed to conjure up what it would feel like without experiencing it first-hand. Though if it were a dream, Bleu would probably equate it to a vision or spiritual experience more than anything. It sounded like a dramatic way to describe getting reamed by a pokémon, but if said pokémon was also the creator of the universe, it was probably more accurate than not. He felt changed, not physically—though probably physically as well, considering just what his body had managed to accommodate—but on some deeper level. Mentally, emotionally, soul-wise, any one of those words that all tried their best to describe those inner-workings nobody really understood. That made it sound complicated, but the change he felt wasn’t. It didn’t feel complicated, anyway. He could sum it up in one simple sentence: before, he’d felt bad about what had happened to him, and now he didn’t. He was some sorta promiscuous gardevoir, and that was just... how it was. It no longer felt like something he needed to rail against, to feel bad about all the time. Feeling like that in the warm light and mild chill of the early morning made him feel very centred. At peace, for the first time in a very, very long time, even before he’d gone into the forest and kicked off everything that’d happened to him. Was that feeling because of something Mew did, or was it a natural conclusion he’d come to on his own? He wasn’t sure. Really, he didn’t care. If it was something that Mew had done to him, then he’d consider it a gift. Whatever the case, all the hang-ups that had been plaguing him were gone, all the philosophical agonizing done away with. Nothing was left but him—the [i]new[/i] him—and he was going to indulge himself in himself to the fullest. He sat up in his sleeping bag and glanced around the tent. Everyone was still asleep, but knowing him, Cecil had probably been the first to conk out. He probably wouldn’t mind if Bleu woke him up early. Maybe they could go out and bang in the brush before any of the others woke up. [sup]End[/sup]