Pushing your way  through your front door, you emerge into the kitchen of your house. Noel, your eevee, walks in just behind you and pushes the door shut with a ribbon.

You glance at him. Ribbon. Right, he’s a sylveon now. It’s not as if you forgot, you’re just not really used to thinking of him as one yet. Every time you look at him, you’re expecting to see a tiny brown fluffball, and instead he’s all pink, white, and frilly.

It’s been maybe half a week since he evolved, and ever since then, you’ve been receiving praise from everyone you know. They all tell you that you must be a very good and caring trainer to have your eevee evolve into a sylveon. Some have even come to you for tips, asking what your secret is.

You aren’t sure what to say to them, because you don’t have one; you just treat him like you feel a trainer ought to treat his pokémon. Barring special circumstances, you try to go out with him at least once a day, be that for training and battling type stuff or just a walk around the block. Even when you aren’t doing that, he tends to hang off of you something fierce. You never much believed in keeping pokémon cooped up in balls all day, and since he’s the only ‘mon you have, it’s pretty easy to just let him have free reign.

It also helps that you don’t really have anything else going on. Sure, you’ve got friends and family and whatnot, but you live alone and don’t have any sort of romantic engagement tying you down. That means you end up spending a lot of time alone in the house with Noel.

Not in a weird way, though. You aren’t one of those people who does [i]stuff[/i] with pokémon. Anyone who’s known you for five minutes knows better than to think of you doing anything like that. Your relationship with your pokémon is strictly platonic, as it should be.

Noel trails closely behind you as you make your way over to the living room, and you both slip into the comfortable evening routine the two of you have formed. You drop down onto your chair and set yourself up in front of your computer, while Noel hops up onto the couch and does a few quick circles before setting himself down onto the cushions.

There’s a television set up in front of the couch, but it’s turned off, as it has been quite awhile now. You used to turn it on so Noel had something to watch while he sat there, until you realised that he didn’t seem to be paying it much attention at all. It seems like he gets all the entertainment he needs purely from hanging around you.

While you do sometimes worry that he’ll be bored, you’ve tried getting him toys and things to busy himself with, and he only ever plays with them for as long as you’re showing them to him before going back to his old routine of hanging around you while you do other stuff. As per usual with Noel, the best solution has been to just let him do what he wants. It’s worked out well enough thus far.

So with that knowledge in mind, you boot up your computer and prepare to spend the rest of the day indulging one of your favourite pastimes: aimlessly fucking around on the Internet.

While you do spend a few minutes checking your various social media accounts for any updates of interest, you eventually wind up returning to one of your old haunts, an anonymous imageboard. The community is shit and none of the discussions are at all interesting, but you keep coming back anyway, mostly out of habit.

You flick through some of the threads, and are once again comforted by the fact that everything there is just as terrible as always. The video game board is full of threads that barely fit the description of the board, every last one of them a paper-thin attempt at inciting an argument, as is the music board, and the technology board. It seems to be a prevailing theme among every part of the website. Even the section dedicated to board games is filled with arguments. You’ve never seen a more vitriolic discussion about elves in your entire life.

The only board that seems to offer any amount of respite from it all is the pokémon board. You still have to deal with the threads made by people who are too dense to go to a professional and instead choose to seek advice about their pokémon’s health problems on the Internet, to which the response is universally ‘take it to the pokécentre’, but those are easier to ignore than all the threads of people intentionally trying to incite arguments.

No discussion platform about pokémon would be complete without a place to dump pictures of the cute ones, and thankfully for you, there’s a thread up for that very purpose with a whopping two-hundred posts. You click it.

It kicks off with everything that you never knew you needed. An audino wearing a comically oversized cowboy hat. A sneasel that’s somehow managed to climb up and fall asleep on top of a refrigerator easily four times its size. A scorbunny eating a giant carrot. Delightful.

But expecting nothing but quality posts is clearly too much to ask for, because you only get a dozen images in before someone chimes in with the first text post of the thread.

“Anonymous 09/01/20(Tue)22:39:09 [u]No.44694963[/u]
[u]>>44693564 (OP)[/u]
made for human cock”

You sigh. Even though the board’s rules ban non-worksafe content, that only seems to stop people from posting pornographic images while text posts tend to skate by regardless of content. You ignore it and move onto the next image of the thread, but unfortunately, that one comment seems to have kicked off a swarm of posts of a similar calibre.

“Anonymous 09/01/20(Tue)23:47:16 [u]No.44733518[/u]
Large, powerful, protective, shame she can't give me a litter of pups to raise. I would still love to be her collared pleasure toy and domestic servant, though.

Anonymous 09/02/20(Wed)05:28:22 [u]No.44736129[/u]
[u]>>44732434[/u]
Froslass is pretty, best fantasy is one kidnapping you. Stockholm Syndrome sets in, you fall in love with her. Convince her that you two can have a happy life together and do not need to be held against your will. You get married & eventually open up an inn to other explorers.

Anonymous 09/02/20(Wed)06:06:05 [u]No.44742405[/u]
Would latias be considered a waifumon?

Anonymous 09/02/20(Wed)06:13:52 [u]No.44742504[/u]
>>44742405
Yes and psychic rape + slavery is the best.”

You try your best to ignore all of the side discussion going on and focus on the images. Poképhilia is illegal in the majority of the world and universally regarded as taboo, but unfortunately, few nations have gone so far as to ban fantasizing about it. That means anonymous sites like this are a hotbed for discussions like the one you’re pointedly trying not to read now.

As you go further down the thread, the conversation becomes steadily more depraved. Single sentence posts about what pokémon people are attracted to turn into multi-paragraph spiels about exactly what they want to do to those pokémon, all in sickening amounts of detail.

Or, more accurately, what they want to have done to them. Even trying to skip past the posts as you are, you can’t help but notice a theme. Even though the thread is about small, cute pokémon, the scenarios the people in the thread paint always end up with them being on the bottom, being dominated by creatures less than a third the size of the average adult human.

You keep browsing the thread regardless purely on account of the cuteness of the images being posted, but before you know it, the thread caps off as they hit the image limit. The last post is a link to what the poster claims to be the next thread, but the format of the link tells you that it’s to another board. Specifically, one that allows explicit images to be posted.

You hover your cursor over it, hesitating. What these guys are talking about really isn’t your kind of scene, but at the same time, you have nothing else to do and have become a bit curious about exactly how far they’re going to take things. A glance at Noel over your shoulder reveals that he’s sprawled out on the cushions of the couch, having at some point decided to take a nap.

Nothing wrong with giving it a look out of scientific curiosity, then. After all, you can just back out of it if it gets too gross. You click.

As soon as the page loads, you’re blasted with a drawing of a pikachu holding a leash that leads off the bottom edge of the screen, presumably linked to a collar of the viewer. It certainly leaves no guessing as to what the theme of the thread is, and that on top of the orderly arrangement of links in the opening post makes you realise this isn’t a one-off thread. You’ve apparently stumbled into an entire community based around being dominated by small, cute pokémon.

You keep reading. The posts start off tame enough, even with the inherent perversion that comes with the subject matter. There’s a string of images of a smug looking minccino, each one accompanied by the fantasies of the one posting them. They’re a bit esoteric; he apparently gets off to the idea of having his finances controlled by the pokémon he’s posting. The idea stuns you, and that’s not an easy feat to accomplish. After all, you’ve seen plenty of weird stuff in your time on this site.

The next posts aren’t nearly as out there. As soon as you reach the last of the minccino posts, you’re greeted to the sight of an eevee presenting its paws towards the camera, both of them dripping with cum. The text next to the image asks the rest of the thread just how many of them would like to lick them clean. Unsurprisingly, there’s seven replies stating just how much they’d like to do just that, and more.

It only gets worse from there. The images get steadily more graphic, but they pale in comparison to the posts attached to each of them. Every time you see an image that can be construed as even remotely stimulating, there’s someone laying out exactly how they want to debase themselves for the pokémon depicted, usually in excruciating detail.

Even worse is when someone steps up to act out the role of that pokémon. At one point, there’s a dozen back-to-back posts of someone pretending to be a pikachu and relentlessly bullying another poster for jerking off to feet. You don’t know whether to laugh or to scream, so you keep reading instead.

The thread is still young, though, and you hit the bottom of the page before long. When you do, it automatically updates, and a single new post appears. There’s no text, just a picture, though the thumbnail hasn’t loaded in yet. Before it has a chance to, you click it to see the full image.

That turns out to be a mistake. It opens in a new tab, and before you know it, four megapixels of high quality digital photography have taken over your screen. It’s of a ledian flashing the camera a cocky smirk while she steps on the cock of the one taking the photo.

You’re actually shocked at that one. That’s a real photo, which means it’s absolutely against the site rules, and probably against the law of wherever the site is hosted as well. It’s definitely illegal where you’re sitting. The moderators are usually pretty quick on stuff like that, so you’ve apparently managed to be in the thread at just the right time to see it before they’ve had time to delete it. How unfortunate.

Before you can move to close out of the tab and report the post, though, you hear a voice from over your shoulder. “Sylv?”

You jump so hard that you knock your mouse clean off your desk, where it lands directly in front of your chair, knocked around by your knees in just the right way to full screen the image you were looking at. 

You try to scoop it up for a few seconds, but unfortunately, the cords coming out of your computer are so tangled together that you manage to drag your keyboard into your lap while trying to get a hold of it. On top of that, your mousepad flops onto the floor, and the way your desk is lacquered means you won’t be able to move your cursor properly without it.

With no other option, you resort to slamming on your keyboard. It takes you a few attempts to locate the ALT and F4 keys, and by the time you’ve found them and mashed them at least a dozen times, your computer is struggling to process all the keystrokes you’ve sent. That means there’s a good, long six seconds where the ledian image is occupying one hundred percent of your screen space.

Then it closes, and you’re left staring at your desktop. Another few moments pass before you turn and look back over your shoulder. You’re met with Noel staring at you from other the back of your chair with an expression that’s a cross between amusement and curiosity.

You try to explain yourself, but it comes out as a stuttering, rambling mess. Shockingly enough, it’s very difficult to think up good reasons as to why you were looking at graphic pictures of poképhilia while simultaneously maintaining that you aren’t a poképhile. It winds up sounding like a paper-thin excuse, and you feel distinctly like a small child whose parents have just caught him looking at boobs on the Internet.

Noel patiently waits there and listens while you babble until your words finally fizzle out into awkward silence. Then, he leans forward and plants a lick on your cheek.

“Sylveon,” Noel says, flashing you a happy smile. Then, he drops off the back of your chair, turns around, and trots off down the hallway towards your bedroom.

You slump back in your chair, feeling dazed by the whole experience. A glance at the clock in the corner of your screen tells you that it’s half past ten. Huh. Didn’t you get on at, like, five or six? You really didn’t think you’d spent that much time on the computer. Weird.

Another half-hour passes before you finally turn your computer off and walk down the hall to your bedroom, stopping just outside of the half-open door. Noel seemed understanding enough, but the embarrassment hasn’t faded at all. You still really, really don’t want to go in there.

It takes a full minute of hemming and hawing before you finally peek around the doorway and look inside. Noel is curled up at the foot of the bed in the same place he usually goes, fast asleep. That’s good, at least. You don’t have to deal with him right then and there, and maybe things will seem a bit less awkward after a good night’s sleep.

Taking special care not to wake Noel up, you get undressed, crawl into bed, and eventually manage to fall asleep.

---

The day after that is awkward, to say the least. Not from anything Noel’s done, of course; he keeps moving right along as if nothing’s happened at all, so you’d be hard pressed to blame him for any of what you’re feeling.

That doesn’t make things any easier to deal with, though. Every time you’re  alone with him, you can’t help but think about what happened and wonder if he’s judging you for looking at what you were looking at. It seems silly to feel such immense amounts of shame about what happened, considering your case was a complete accident and you know of people who masturbate full knowledge that their pokémon is in the same room as them and don’t bat an eye. Still, knowing the feeling is ridiculous doesn’t make it any less present.

But thankfully, it isn’t something that sticks. After the first day, the embarrassment has already started to abate, very much in thanks to the fact that Noel shows absolutely no signs of even remembering the stuff that you’re beating yourself up over. You stick to your daily routine, and by the end of the week, it’s all water under the bridge.

Plus, more exciting news has come to push those memories from your mind. The PokeCommunicator you’ve ordered is finally set to arrive today. Being the frugal sort that you are, you sprung for one of the knock-off ones instead of paying a premium for the brand name. That also means you’ve had to endure the shipping times that come with purchasing from halfway around the world without paying a cent for shipping.

It’s been about a month since you placed the order, but the tracking number says it’s set to arrive today. You’ve kept the whole thing a secret from Noel in the hopes of surprising him. No doubt he’s going to be elated to finally be able to talk back to you, and you’re certain he’s going to be chatting your ear off for the rest of the week.

Since it’s the weekend and you’ve got nothing planned, there’s no trainer stuff with Noel to keep you busy. You wind up just sitting around and wasting time on the computer while you wait for the postman to arrive, this time on more reputable websites you’re sure won’t contain any questionable content.

At half past eleven, meaning after about an hour and a half of goofing off, you hear a knock at the door. You roll your chair back and spring to your feet, and sensing the excitement, Noel hops off the couch and follows close behind as you rush over to the door. You fling it open, and sure enough, it’s the postman. He’s got the uniform, the little electronic pad they make you sign on, and two small cardboard boxes slung under his arm.

Wait, two? That’s not right. You only ordered the one thing. Whatever, probably some sort of promotional thing. You don’t bother bringing it up, you just sign for your stuff, take the boxes, and give a quick goodbye to the postman before kicking the door shut behind you.

Then, you’re back at the kitchen table, Noel watching intently as you toss the two boxes onto it with more excitement and far less care than the contents probably warrant. A quick look at the labels on the packages makes it clear which one has the communicator inside, though the other one is completely unmarked without the slightest hint as to what its contents could be.

You leave that one be for the moment and grab the one you’ve been waiting for, ripping off the tape with your nails before prying open the flaps. There it is inside, resting on a bed of packing peanuts: a tiny earpiece, with a transparent microphone stretching off of it. Considering just what its capable of, the appearance actually seems a bit underwhelming.

Hoping that’s because of just how efficient the technology’s gotten and not because you’ve gotten ripped off, you grab the communicator and hook it around your right ear. It’s lightweight and comfortable, enough so that you could imagine yourself forgetting you’re wearing it. You feel along the casing for the power button and give it a press.

There’s a soft crackle as the device comes to life. Seems you’re lucky enough to have gotten one with a pre-charged battery. Eager to test it out, you look down at Noel, waiting for him to say something.

He looks back at you just as expectantly. It takes you a few seconds to remember that the whole thing was supposed to be a surprise and he doesn’t know what’s going on, meaning you have to take the initiative. “Hello?”

Noel’s eyes go wide and his jaw drops moments before his face lights up in the brightest smile you’ve ever seen from him, which is quite the achievement, considering his continual bubbliness. “Hiii! You never told me you were getting one of thoooose!”

“I—”

“Open the other one!” Noel says, cutting off whatever you were going to say. “Doitdoitdoit!”

He’s bouncing up and down with excitement, and while a good bit of that can be chalked up to the communicator, it seems to be focused mainly on the other package. It’s more than a bit strange for him to be so hyped about a box that he doesn’t even know the contents of, but considering you’ve gotta open it anyway, you follow his suggestion.

Whereas the communicator was packaged with all the care and security you’d expect of buying the cheapest product available, the mystery package is done up like a tiny cardboard fort. The tape is thick and black, strong enough that you’re not able to get it off with your fingers and actually have to get a knife to slit it open. When you pry it open, you don’t get packing peanuts, but instead plastic bags filled with air.

That’s some high-quality packaging material right there. You check the outside of the box again to make sure this is addressed to you, and sure enough, it is. Everything’s done up far too fancily for it to be some cheap promo. What exactly have you got your hands on, here?

You start pulling out airbags while Noel looks on with such anticipation that he’s practically vibrating in place. After a few seconds, you’ve cleared out enough of them to see what it is that’s inside the box.

It’s pink and plastic. Smooth, too. A bit smaller than a fist, and weirdly shaped. Mostly hollow. While the gears turn in your head, you grab it and lift it out of the box, holding it up to the light to get a better view.

Viewed in its entirety like that, it takes only a split second for you to realise what it is you’re looking at: a chastity cage. It’s even got a little lock swinging from the bottom.

Your first instinct is to drop it, but before you have time to do so, one of Noel’s ribbons shoots out and plucks it from your fingers. “Yay, it came! Now we can have fun together!”

Flabbergasted and taken completely off-guard, you ask Noel exactly what the heck is going on. Thankfully, he’s happy to explain.

“Well, I wanted to know what you were looking at on that weird website you’re always on, master. Now that I’m a sylveon, I can use the computer with my ribbons!”

He does a little flourish with his ribbons to emphasize his words, swinging the chastity cage around in the process. “So I went down after you went to bed and looked at your history, and I saw you looking at that thread all about the people who like being bullied by cute pokémon!”

You can already feel your stomach start to sink. Uh-oh.

“At first I was surprised, because I never knew you liked stuff like that! But then I thought about it, and it all made sense. You never bring any girls home, you’re looking at these things, you raised me to be a sylveon...”

Noel moves up closer and starts weaving himself between your legs, rubbing up against you while his ribbons weave through the air—except for the one with the cage on its end, which is always placed squarely in your field of view. “Master, I never knew you thought about me like that!”

After you’re done wincing at the situation you’ve gotten yourself into, you try to explain Noel that it’s not like that at all, that he’s completely misunderstood what’s going on—

But Noel cuts you off again. “It’s okay, master, I don’t judge. I just want to make you happy. That’s why I bought that cage for you off the Internet, so we can do all the fun things those people were talking about!”

No. No. No. [i]No.[/i] [i][b]No.[/b][/i] You tell Noel with a firm voice and in no uncertain terms that you are absolutely [i]not[/i] going to do that, that you two are going to get a refund for what he’s bought, and then the two of you are going to have a long and thorough discussion about the importance of personal boundaries, not to mention the fact that he shouldn’t be buying stuff off the Internet with your money!

Noel stares at you for a moment, blinking in what seems like legitimate surprise at your reaction. Then it seems like what you’ve said clicks in his mind, because he flashes you the same happy smile as always and holds out the cage towards you.

“Okay master, I understand. Here, take it.”

Huh. That was surprisingly easy, far more so than you’d expected. He doesn’t even seem upset, even though you came pretty close to yelling at him. You reach out to grab the cage...

...and as soon as your fingers touch down onto it, the ribbon that’s holding it wraps itself tight around your wrist. You can feel his three other ribbons doing the same, one for your other arm and two for your ankles, and you only realise what’s happening by the time they’ve swept your feet out from under you and Noel is lowering you gently onto the floor.

You let out a shout of surprise, but before you can gather yourself enough to start yelling at Noel to stop, he pads up next to you and plants a forepaw over your mouth to silence you.

“This is that roleplay stuff I read about, right? I don’t know how good I am at being mean, but I’ll try for you, master!”

He hasn’t even finished speaking yet before you start trying to jerk free of his grip, but for as thin as they might look, his ribbons have an impressive amount of strength behind them. That isn’t surprising; you’ve seen their performance in battle more than enough to know just how much power Noel has packed in that tiny body of his, to the point where even when he shifts your wrists to a single ribbon, you’re still unable to pry yourself free of his grip.

He removes his paw from your mouth and hops up onto your chest, staring down into your face with a cheeky grin. While he’s small enough that you’d be able to fling him off with ease, the ribbons pinning your limbs to the floor keep you from getting the leverage needed to do any such thing. More importantly than that, you don’t want to. Even though he’s gone way too far with absolutely everything, you still have no desire to hurt him. He’s your pokemon, and you care about him.

Though that care translates into an equally strong feeling of irritation at how he refuses to listen when you repeatedly ask him to stop. Instead, he chooses to plant a hindpaw right into your lap, squarely on the bulge in your jeans. He lets his full weight drop down onto it, and the two layers of fabric between you and him do nothing to lessen the feeling of his foot grinding against your most sensitive area. With how light Noel is, it isn’t outright painful, but it’s definitely intense.

You wince, but quickly recover. Adopting the most serious expression you can muster, you give Noel a short and stern command to stop, trying to leverage your authority as his trainer to regain control of the situation.

It doesn’t work. Noel stares right into your eyes, taking your bone-chilling look on the chin, and laughs. He pushes down on the paw between your legs down, and when your face screws up at the feeling of his foot pressing against the head of your dick with near crushing force, he laughs even harder.

“You don’t get to tell me to stop, master!” Noel says, voice dripping with so much mocking incredulity that you might as well have just asked him if water was wet. “I [i]want[/i] to do this, so I’m [i]going[/i] to do it. You get it?”

You give Noel the most dead-eyed look you can muster, in hopes that you’ll be able to communicate with body language where words have failed just how unamusing you find what he’s doing. His response is to boop your nose with a forepaw.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, you old sourpuss,” Noel says. “You think I can’t feel you twitching down there?”

That comment makes you break the death glare you’ve been giving him and avert your eyes to the side. You were hoping that your jeans would be thick enough to keep him from noticing, but it seems that bet didn’t pay off. It’s definitely been a while for you, and even angry as you are, any kind of contact down there is enough to get your engine going.

Up to this point, your solution to dealing with how pent-up you are as a result of not getting any has just been to not touch yourself—a choice you made in part due to the threads on the same site that got you into the mess, espousing the virtues of not masturbating. It seems that it would’ve been better if you’d had: at least then Noel wouldn’t be able to get you hard purely by stepping on your crotch.

“Aw, you’re blushing,” Noel coos, lightly batting at your cheek with a paw. “Here, let me help.”

When start to make a snippy comment about how you think he’s already helped more than enough, Noel shifts his paw from your cheek over to your mouth, forcing it past your lips until you can feel all five of his pawpads pressed flush against your tongue. The taste of them immediately hits you, a strong earthy flavour with hints of bitterness and salt.

You try to turn your head and spit his paw out of your mouth, but Noel matches your every movement, giggling so hard that he’s barely able to speak. “See? Now you have something to blush about! You’re sucking on my paw just like one of those perverts!”

The warning growl you let out is muffled by his foot, though you’re sure he’s still able to feel the vibrations of it and glean your feelings about the situation regardless. You don’t appreciate being compared to one of those people. You don’t appreciate any of what he’s doing, as a matter of fact.

Though that doesn’t stop your body from responding to it. When Noel hooks his claws into the waistband of your underwear, pulling both them and your jeans down to your knees in a single, dextrous motion, it becomes evident just how [i]much[/i] your body’s been responding to it. 

Noel plants his foot back onto your now-bare cock, and without a thick layer of denim in the way, you realise just how nice it feels. It’s insane. Your expectation was that something as uncoordinated as a paw wouldn’t be even half as good as your hand, but the soft squishiness of his pads, the way the almost downy fur of his foot brushes against your skin...

You gasp around the paw in your mouth as a particularly powerful throb rolls through your cock. When he lifts his foot up off of your dick, you can see a thick string of precum connecting the two together for a second before it snaps, splattering against your shaft.

“Wow, master,” Noel says, placing his hindpaw back on the bed before planting a fresh one right onto your cock, pawpads pressing against your foreskin as they peel it back to expose your glans. “You’re leaking so much! I didn’t realise just how much you liked my paws.”

He clenches his toes around the head of your dick, and you let out a groan into the pawpads crammed into your mouth as involuntary pleasure shoots through your body, coaxing a throb from your cock that brings with it a fresh spurt of pre deposited straight into the grip Noel’s toes. It doesn’t escape his attention, and he squeezes again, giggling as you once again add to the stickiness of his paw.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get well and familiar with them while you’re all caged up.”

Noel moves the foot he has planted between your thighs down to the base of your cock, pressing down hard before he slowly drags it back up towards your tip. As he does so, he removes his paw from your mouth, meaning there’s nothing to muffle the moan that’s forced out of you as the pressure of his toes milks another thick rope of pre out of you. It splatters across your stomach, drooling down along your abs.

“Swapsies!”

Noel spins himself  around over top of you, planting his back feet on either side of your head. The position leaves you staring up at his underside, giving you a full view of everything that lies between his legs. His balls dangle overhead, and his sheath is bunched up around the root of his fully erect cock.

Before, you made an effort not to look at this part of him, even though pokémon tend to have much more lax views of decency than humans. Now, he’s placed himself so that his genitals are placed right in the centre of your vision, and you can feel him starting to drip beads of precum onto your forehead.

Not for long, though, as he quickly obscures your view of his nether regions with one of his hindpaws. He raises it over your face, offering you a good look at it. The light pink of his pawpads is complemented nicely by his white fur, though all of it is given a wet and shiny look by the prodigious amounts of precum you’ve smeared all over his foot.

There’s a lot more of it than you’d expected. You haven’t gotten off much recently, for reasons already stated, but you didn’t realise just how leaky you’d get from being pent up for a little while. That situation seems like it’s going to get a whole lot worse in the near future.

Once he decides you’ve spent long enough admiring it, he brings his paw down onto your face, planting his wet toes directly on top of your mouth. You keep your lips shut tight, but you still need to breathe, and a fresh wave of paw scent washes over you as you inhale through your nose—now mixed with the musk of your own secretions.

“Remember that if they aren’t squeaky clean by the time we’re done, it’s one week in chastity,” Noel says, voice far more sing-song than you feel the situation warrants. “Well, one week on top of the one you’re gonna be doing anyway.”


Ugh. Looks like he’s threatening you, then. With a palpable amount of reluctance, you let your lips part, and Noel immediately takes advantage of the opportunity to cram his toes into your mouth. They press against your tongue, and your taste buds are once again assaulted with the flavour of Noel’s paws, though their saltiness is now accented by the addition of your own fluids. The taste is bearable, which is good, because you’re sure that Noel is going to have you cleaning them off like this a whole lot more in the future.

You would shake your head if it weren’t kept in place by the foot crammed in your mouth. That’s a defeatist mindset! You’re not going to be doing anything like this in the future. This is a one time thing until you can explain to Noel that this sort of thing isn’t going to fly.

...Though in the meantime, you are still going to have to do it this once. You drag your tongue up along the pads of Noel’s paw, sucking and gulping down your own fluids as you do your best to polish them to a mirror shine.

“Good boy,” Noel purrs, wriggling his toes in your mouth. “Here, let me give you some incentive.”

Noel lays down on top of you, using his ribbons to grip your body and keep himself stable while he wraps his forepaws around your cock. You gasp around his toes at the feeling of your dick suddenly squeezed between a set of two paws, one dry, the other thoroughly soaked in your saliva.

“Keep going, now! I’ll go nice and slow so you can do a real thorough job back there~”

You do as he says, running your tongue along every inch of his paw, even going so dig into the spaces between his toes make sure you hit every spot that you can. There’s little hesitation when you decide to do so; surprisingly enough, you find yourself getting used to the taste, even going so far as to...

Well, not enjoy it. There’s no way you could enjoy something so demeaning and degrading. But it’s tolerable, which is far more than you’d expected to say about it.

And while you’re busy sucking the sweat and pre out of his pawfur, Noel is doing work of his own. His forelegs are wrapped around your cock up to his elbows, toes kneading at your shaft as they work their way up and down. Sometimes he’ll go down lower, rubbing a paw over your balls just firmly enough to make you jump. More often than not, though, he goes higher, taking the head of your dick between his pawpads and rolling it around.

It’s all quite effective, drawing an endless stream of pre out of you that all gets smeared across his paws. He never goes fast enough to push you over the edge, though, only just enough to keep you right on the precipice and leaking like a broken sieve. You groan, knowing that every spurt of precum he milks out of you is that much more you’re going to have to lick up later.

After awhile, apparently feeling you’ve done a good enough job on the one paw, he pulls it free from your mouth. There’s a pop as his toes slip free from your lips, but before you can get too used to the sensation, he brings his other hindpaw up and slips his toes past your still-open lips.

Already getting the gist of things, you don’t bother to wait for an order and instead get to work licking up your mess from his paws right away. You can hear him giggle in response, and it feels almost mocking.

“So eager,” he says, clenching his toes around your tongue. “Better ask next time, master, otherwise I might be liable to lock you up for longer.”

Noel squishes your cock between his paws, and your whole body tenses as your dick gives off a powerful throb. He’s been steadily dropping the speed of his stroking over time to edge you with maximum efficiency, and a particularly hard press like that is nearly enough to set you off right then and there.

But not quite. Everything he’s done has been carefully calculated, including that seemingly impulsive squish. He laughs again as he sees you coming down from your near-orgasm.

“Ooh, are you close?” Noel says, tracing a toe up and down the length of your shaft. “Tell you what. Last ten seconds, and I won’t put you the cage on you. Alright?”

You aren’t able to properly respond with his paw crammed in your mouth, but Noel interprets the strained groan you make as an affirmative. He leans down and once again wraps his paws around you so that his toes are gripped around the base of your cock and his elbows are bumping against your tip.

“Okay, here we go!”

That’s the only warning you get before Noel explodes into a flurry of motion. It’s nothing like the slow and steady stroking he was doing before: just as the fact that he set it up as a challenge hinted at, he’s absolutely trying to get you to cum.

You moan, momentarily stopping your work dragging your tongue across Noel’s pawpads, and the sylveon takes notice. Without even slowing with his stroking, he shoves his foot into your mouth insistently, wiggling his toes as he does so.

“Hey, just because I’m doing this doesn’t mean you get to stop back there! Keep licking!”

You do your best to follow his instructions, moving your tongue in slow circles across the pads of his foot, but it’s hard. All your attention is completely stolen by the paws between your legs, gripping at your cock, rolling across it with a mixture of speed and skill so staggering that you have to wonder if Noel’s done this before.

While there might not be much for you to compare it to, you have to admit that it’s probably the best sexual experience you’ve ever had, and the shame that you feel at bestowing such a title to getting your dick rubbed by a pokémon’s paws does not escape you. But all you’ve got to do is hold out for a few more seconds, and then all this stuff can blow over and go back to normal.

“Three,” Noel says, squeezing your shaft between his paws hard enough to force a shiver out of you before returning to the same breakneck stroking as before. Okay, maybe that’s going to be more difficult than expected. You squirm under Noel’s weight, feeling the soft fur of his belly rub against your chest.

“Four.”

It’s not like you’re some sort of quickshot, though. You’re already almost halfway through it. All you’ve got to do is last a little bit longer. So you try your best to distract yourself, focusing your attention on suckling at the paw in your mouth while ignoring the two others working busily at the other end of your body.

“Five.”

That strategy doesn’t work very well. Your breath is getting faster, and every bit of air you pull in through your nose carries with it the scent of Noel’s paws, which somehow manages to make the situation worse. You’ve never been into this stuff before, but apparently, your brain is already hard at work making the association between paws and arousal.

“Six.”

Which means that there’s nowhere for you to focus your attention that won’t send you hurtling towards your peak even faster. You have your choice between the paw crammed into your mouth, or the paws wrapped around your cock. Even if you tried to ignore both of them, there’s no way to shut out the sensations shooting up from your groin or the taste continually assaulting your mouth—not to mention that whenever you start slacking with your tongue for even a moment, the paw in your mouth starts wriggling like mad until you start licking at it again.

“Seven.”

Things are apparently taking a bit too long for Noel’s liking, because he starts directing his efforts around the top half of your cock, wrapping his paws around either side of your dick just below your head. His pace remains completely unchanged, still intolerably fast, only now it’s concentrated on your most sensitive areas.

You whimper even as you’re working your tongue into the gaps between Noel’s toes. It’s too late, too good. You can already feel the winding feeling that’s been building up inside you starting to reach a breaking point, your body overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure being forced onto you by those paws.

There’s no way you’re going to be able to hold out for three more seconds. You won’t be able to last even one, at this point. You’re going to be brought to your peak, and once you come back down, you’re going to be locked into a chastity cage, all because of the whims of your frilly pink sylveon who thinks this is exactly what you want.

It’s clear that Noel knows that, too. He can feel it in the throbbing of your cock, and if it weren’t obscured by his foot, he’d definitely be able to see it in your face. Even without looking at his expression, you can hear the palpable smugness in his voice when he speaks. “Cum.”

That’s one order you don’t want to obey, but your body is completely under the sway of the soft, furry paws wrapped around your dick and pressing against your tongue. Letting out a loud moan only partially muffled by the foot in your mouth, your dick lets out a powerful throb as the first rope of cum shoots out of you with enough strength to land on the bow around Noel’s neck.

Noel lets out a squee of delight and leans down, taking the head of your cock into his muzzle. His tongue laps at your frenulum while his paws stay gripped around the sides of your dick, working in short, steady strokes to make sure he wrings every drop of cum out of you that he can.

You certainly have a lot to spare. You’re breaking a dry spell at least two weeks long, probably more, and all the edging and teasing Noel’s done has only served to make your orgasm that much more impressive. Your next spurt is powerful enough that it dribbles out of his muzzle, drops of white rolling over his chin and down along your shaft, but he gulps down what he’s able to. He’s only just managed to clear his mouth in time for the next rope, equally voluminous. More cum drools down your dick, evidence of the trouble he’s having swallowing it all, but he tries his best.

The two of you stay in that position for awhile, a perverted sixty-nine where you’re lapping at his paw while he’s got his mouth wrapped around your dick. There’s no doubt that you should be feeling shame, but you aren’t; it feels far too good to just let go and let Noel drain you dry that it doesn’t even matter that he’s a pokémon. Even your tongue seems to be on autopilot, absently licking at his pawpads while your mind is lost on a wave of pleasure.

But it does end eventually, and you’re left lying there acutely aware that you’ve just spent yourself inside the mouth of your own pokémon, a fact that seems to have become incredibly important all of a sudden.

“Wow, master,” Noel says, breathless after gulping down so much of your cum. He moves his muzzle lower, licking up what he missed from off of your shaft, then the stuff that’s dripped onto your belly. The feeling of his tongue dragging across your skin makes you shiver. “I never thought you’d be so... productive. Look at the mess you made!”

He pulls his foot out from your mouth, spit-soaked toes slipping past your lips, then spins around over top of you. Staring down at you with lidded eyes, he shoves a forepaw into your face, letting you see just how slathered it is with your fluids. The fur around his toes is practically saturated with them.

“You’d better clean all that up if you don’t want two weeks before you can make them all messy again,” Noel says, tittering with that flighty little laugh he always does.

You groan. Even though he can’t really use edging as a weapon to bludgeon you into doing what he wants, what with you having already came, you end up doing what he tells you to do anyway. You can’t really explain why. A good part of it is because you feel vulnerable with him sitting on top of you with your pants around your ankles.

There’s another reason at play alongside that, though. You can’t say that you like it and you definitely aren’t getting off to it anymore, but licking his paws feels... comforting, somehow. Trying to analyze that feeling too much makes you feel weird, so you don’t, and instead focus on licking Noel’s paws clean while ignoring the way he grins down at you as you do so.

He swaps paws once you get the one of them clean, and by the time you’ve finished with that one, you’ve gone completely soft. Noel pulls his paw out of your mouth and moves it down to your chin, lifting your head up so that you’re forced to look right into his face as he smiles down at you. You can see his ribbons moving behind him and out of your sight, though you definitely feel them a moment later when one of them wraps around the base of your cock.

That’s quickly followed by the feeling of hard plastic encasing your member, the chastity cage clicking into place behind your balls before the lock holding the whole thing together snaps shut. Then, Noel releases you, letting your package hang limp between your thighs with quite a bit more weight than usual hanging off of it. The metal of the lock feels cold against your taint. It’ll probably be less obtrusive when it’s warmed up, but as it is, it serves as the firmest reminder of exactly what situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

“So,” Noel says, stroking one paw up and down your cheek while he toys with your cage using a ribbon, “how long do you think it’ll take before you can pull off another big finish like that?”

You breathe in, preparing to respond.

“A week?” Noel says, giving you a quizzical look. “I dunno, that seems a bit short, don’t you think?”

Feeling panic start to flare up in your chest, you try to speak. Noel just talks over you, ignoring what you’re trying to say as he responds to whatever imaginary version of you he’s concocted, one that’s no doubt just as eager to have you locked up as he is. “Well, I guess if I’m teasing you and making you lick my paws every day of that week then it might be enough. You’re sure, though?”

Trying to say ‘no’ means your mouth opens just enough for Noel to jam his paw into it, and with your response muffled around his toes, he steps in to fill the silence. “Ooh, so eager! I think I’ve got something a bit better than paws for you to suck on, though.”

Using his other three paws to move while keeping the one in your mouth placed exactly where it is, Noel gets up and starts walking forward, only removing his forepaw from your mouth when it’s physically impossible to keep it there. You wind up with your head between his legs, staring up at his crotch and the thick, pink erection jutting out from it, slick and dripping with his own pre. It seems that despite saying he’s been doing all this for you, Noel’s been enjoying the treatment he’s been giving you a fair bit himself.

Noel drops his hips down, allowing his dick to flop down against your cheek as your face is thrust into the soft, fluffy embrace of his crotch. The scent of his musk is thick, every brush of his fur kicking up more of it until your head is suffused with the sweaty, muggy odour of horny eeveelution.

A whole week of this sort of treatment is completely unacceptable, but with the aid of your post-orgasm clarity, muddled as it might be from being nose-deep in Noel’s lap, you’re certain that you’ll be able to extricate yourself from this situation. After all, if Noel’s only doing this because he thinks you want to do it, then it’s just a matter of convincing him that you don’t.

Though that’s going to be an impossible task with your head buried between the sylveon’s thighs, and there’s no way he’s going to let you go until he’s good and satisfied. So, seeing little other option, you sigh and part your lips to allow Noel entry.

He immediately takes the opportunity to shove his drippy cock into your mouth and start humping away. You’re sure that he sees your begrudging compliance as obedience and further evidence of how much you’re enjoying the situation, but you know better. It’s just a stopgap measure, a way to buy time until you can think of the words you need to say to get Noel to stop.

They aren’t going to come to you while Noel’s humping your face, of course. Or when he’s got his paws in your mouth. Or when he’s teasing you with his ribbons, calling you a pervert. But you’ll think of them at some point, for sure.

Eventually.