Pookie, accustomed to the ease and comfort of his former trainer's home, was finding the wilderness to be a harsher place than he'd expected.

The sylveon threw himself out of the way of a swing from the goodra's tail, just barely managing to escape its arc. He felt the rush of air as it carried on past him, only coming to a stop when it slammed into the trunk of a tree, the audible crunch of wood making clear just how painful it would've been had it been allowed to connect.

Unfortunately, Pookie's sudden dodge had carried him into a tree of his own. Unable to look before he leapt, he found himself thrown painfully against unwavering wood and bark, sent stumbling away from the impact before managing to get his feet back under him once more.

Why was this fight even happening? And how was he [i]losing[/i]? Pookie had no answers to either question. The goodra had stomped up out nowhere while he was trying to make his way through the forest, and without any fear of the clear type disadvantage, had immediately started trying to pummel him into submission. Given that Pookie had only managed to land one move in the wake of the goodra's relentless assault, a moonblast that she had shrugged off without even slowing, it seemed her lack of fear was warranted.

The goodra whirled around to face him after his near-miss of a dodge, and her cheeks bulged strangely. Before Pookie realised what it was she was planning, her lips pursed as she spat a wad of slime. It arced through the air and landed with pinpoint precision between his eyes, splattering them with a thick layer of slime. Blinded, he squealed and raised his paws up to wipe the stuff away.

He succeeded, and regained his vision just in time to see the dragon barrelling towards him at full speed, only a foot or two away by the time he'd sighted her. Pookie squealed yet again, but the sound was cut off as he was rammed into by over three-hundred pounds of slimy dragon. He was swept off his feet and thrown to the ground, where the goodra followed, pinning him underneath her great bulk.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Pookie cried, flinching as the goodra reared an arm back and prepared to slam it into his adorable little face. He was sure that if it landed, that would be the blow that knocked him clean into unconsciousness, and whatever horrible things the goodra would do to him afterwards. "I give up, I yield, you win!"

Pookie kept his eyes scrunched tight and paws held in front of his face, certain that his pleas would fall upon deaf ears. But as luck would have it, the sylveon's begging worked. After a few seconds without any sudden bludgeoning or pain of any sort, apart from that of old injuries and the goodra's weight pressing down on his far smaller form, Pookie cracked open an eye and looked up at her.

Her face had moved closer. The goodra was sprawled out over top of him, all her weight but what was needed to keep him pinned supported by her arms, and she had gotten close enough for Pookie to see that a bright green cast had developed over her features. Was she... blushing?

The next thing Pookie noticed was that the goodra was wet. That was a given, of course; she oozed slime from every inch of her body, the stuff soaking into his fur the longer he was in contact with her. But Pookie had recognized a different, more universal sort wetness on top of that. It was hotter, runnier than the thick slime that coated the rest of the goodra's body—and more importantly, focused squarely between her legs.

Things were starting to make a little more sense, and Pookie actually relaxed a little, now that he understood what the goodra wanted and now that she wasn't trying to bludgeon him into a pulp for seemingly no reason. "I-is that why you attacked me? You wanted to...?"

Pookie trailed off, but the goodra answered his question well enough with her actions. She pulled herself upright on top of the sylveon, straddling his hips and leaving her crotch pressed right against his own. That offered him a much clearer view of what up to that point he'd only felt: the goodra's pussy, lips swollen and flushed with need, leaking a runny fluid that was clearer than the rest of her slime.

The shift in position had also brought those lips to rest right against his sheath. Pookie had thought he'd felt her heat before, but now he could really [i]feel[/i] it. The warmth radiated off of her like a furnace, leaching into his own body by means of the drops of hot fluid soaking into his crotch fur and leaking through into his sheath. It tingled.

Pookie moaned as the goodra began to work her hips, grinding her weight back and forth along his sheath. He was no stranger to mating. His trainer—[i]former[/i] trainer—had billed him as a perfect pedigree male, pimped him out to interested customers all over to have him breed their pokémon.

Up until last week's escape, that was. Not a single female for all that time, and Pookie had been feeling it, accustomed to regularly scheduled daily ruttings as he was. The tip of his cock was already poking out and sliding against the goodra's wet folds. Even with the whole violent preamble, this was the most hospitality anyone had offered him in the wild. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all?

He tried to reach up and place his paws on the goodra's thighs as she ground against him, but she grabbed them and pinned them to the grass, looking down at him with a harsh glare as she continued to rub her cunt against his burgeoning erection. Pookie gave her the best apologetic grin he could muster. She was in charge: got it.

Satisfied that her message had been received, the goodra returned her attention to his cock. He'd slid out of his sheath faster than he'd expected, partly because of that pent-up excitement, partly because of a strange sensitivity that the goodra's fluids were filling him with as they coated the surface of his shaft. 

Here was where his pedigree shone: his dick was massive for a sylveon, standing at a full foot long, with the makings of a knot at its base that, he knew, swelled to an equally impressive size, making sure not a single drop of fertile seed escaped whatever female he'd been tasked to breed. Perhaps nothing to match some of what the larger dragons brought to the table, but it would be enough to satisfy a goodra, he figured.

The goodra seemed to agree. Giving a pleased churr at the sight of his erection, she released Pookie's wrists and grabbed a hold of it, raising herself up on her knees while she aligned the tip of it with her soaking wet cunt.

The sylveon had started to breathe heavier, faster. His first time in a week, and his first time with a wild pokémon in... ever! And his first time with a dragon, for that matter. It was a whole lot of firsts, and in spite of the beating he'd received, Pookie was starting to get excited.

Much more so when, once the goodra had gotten the tip of his cock wedged between the puffy folds of her vulva, she suddenly [i]slammed[/i] herself down. In the span of half a second, Pookie had gone from being outside of the goodra to being wrapped in the soft, squishy folds of her insides, all the way down to the base. Her cunt was pressed against his sheath in a lewd kiss, slime leaking out from between them.

Pookie let out a loud moan, which was joined by a calmer but nonetheless happy sounding chirrup from the goodra. She felt so warm and soft inside, unlike any pokémon he'd ever mated before! And she didn't seem to care about how big he was, like some of his smaller partners had. The goodra took his knot just like she took the rest of his shaft, no hesitation or struggle, as emphasized when she raised herself halfway up his shaft before once again dropping down against his crotch with an exceptionally wet slap.

His cock was tingling more strongly now, a sensation that the sylveon had ignored in favour of more pressing matters, but had nonetheless been gradually building in intensity ever since she'd started grinding against his sheath. It was a side effect of the sensitivity her slime was causing, and he was [i]definitely[/i] feeling it. He whined and moaned as the goodra bounced up and down in his lap, pleasure stronger than anything he'd ever felt radiating from his crotch and shooting through his whole body, making him shiver from the intensity. Pookie had only been inside her for minute, and he could already feel orgasm approaching!

"S-slow down," Pookie whined, pawing at her belly to get her attention. In response, the goodra grabbed a hold of his paws and pinned them against his chest, giving him a malicious grin before bouncing even faster, squeezing down around his shaft for added stimulation as she went.

That did it. Pookie let out a loud whimpering moan as his dick throbbed and his knot gave a powerful pulse before starting to inflate, his finish only seconds away. Sensing this, the goodra dropped down and enveloped his knot with her cunt, her walls tightening around every inch of his cock in a squishy grip to encourage him along.

His knot got bigger and bigger, swelling to its full majesty inside of her, over twice as thick as it had been to start with. They were well and tied, now; it was time to seed her and impregnate yet another female, as Pookie had done so many times before. His dick throbbed violently inside her, the first shot of virile cum close at hand, and...

Nothing. The sylveon's cock throbbed, bulging from knot to tip, but not a single drop of fluid escaped. It felt just as good as a regular orgasm—better, as as a matter of fact, the best he'd ever had—but it was just completely dry. When those few seconds of pleasure passed and Pookie had come back to his senses, the confusion began to set in.

"Huh?" Pookie stared up at the goodra questioningly, hoping for answers. But as silent as ever, all the goodra offered him was a giggle, keeping his paws pinned tight against his chest with one hand. With the other, she grabbed a hold of his ribbons, gathering them all up and securing them in her iron grip.

As bad a sign as that was, Pookie was too distracted to resist. The goodra's walls had started squeezing down even tighter around his shaft, almost painfully so, all the way up to just before the head of his cock. Pookie squeaked in overstimulated discomfort, jerking helplessly against the goodra's grip. How could she squeeze like that?

A better question than [i]how[/i] turned out to be [i]why,[/i] and as fate would have it, Pookie was to receive the answer quite swiftly. He felt slime pressing against the head of his dick, a whole lot more than he'd felt before—and given just how wet the goodra was on the inside, that was saying something. The sensation increased, the stuff seeming to build pressure against him.

The squeeze of the goodra's inner walls got more and more precise, fine muscles tuning their grip so that the entirety of his dick was held firm right up to where his urethra began, forming a tight channel for the slime to press against it through. Once that channel had been formed, press it did: the slime suddenly tripled in pressure, all of it focused squarely on his urethra.

Pooky's eyes bulged. He was very familiar with the feeling of passing fluid out of his cock. Now, he was being treated to the feeling of it coming [i]in[/i], thick slime spreading his piss slit wide as it forced its way inside him.

He screamed. The sylveon tried to jerk his forelegs free, and found them held tight against his chest by the goodra's hand, and his back pinned to the grass in much the same way. His rear was pinned to the ground by the great weight of the dragon, keeping his cock planted firmly in her cunt, if the knot weren't enough already—and of course, she'd taken care to secure his ribbons just moments before. Practically all he could do was kick his hindlegs and thrash his head from side to side.

The goodra was content to allow him that much. After all, it did nothing to slow the progress of the slime forcing its way inside him under her internal pressure. Once it was about halfway down his shaft, Pookie could feel the slime begin to move under its own volition, squirming its way down towards his knot.

Once it had gotten that far, the goodra released her tight grip around Pookie's cock and lifted herself up, his huge knot providing only the slightest bit of trouble before it was tugged past her wet, stretchy cunt with a loud [i]pop![/i] The sylveon's still fully engorged cock flopped back against his belly, coated in a film of her juices—with a few drops of thicker, deep purple slime oozing from its tip.

A second's more observation led Pookie to notice the movement that fell in line with what he was feeling: a thick bulge, as big as a golf ball, crawling its way down his shaft. It had just reached his knot, and as it passed the already tremendously thick gland, it became harder to track its passage. The loss of any visual to mark it by brought Pookie no relief, as disturbing as it might've been to watch: all it meant was that it was squirming even deeper into the sylveon's body, beyond where he could track it.

"What did you [i]do?![/i]" Pookie shrieked, a constant stream of whines conveying desperation, panic, and pain slipping past his muzzle. The goodra seemed nothing but amused by his situation, giggling as she lifted herself off of him and lifted [i]him[/i] up by the wrists, dangling him high in the air so that she could keep an eye on his crotch.

The slime again made itself visible to the naked eye. Pookie could feel it squeezing through his insides, internal plumbing being spread far wider than it was ever meant to go by invading slime, and the goodra could see the same thing by the bulging of the sylveon's vas deferens. They deflated at the same time as the rest of the sylveon's sac expanded, his balls suddenly finding themselves floating in a bath of thick slime.

Pookie, who had been thrashing about, whining, screaming, gnashing his teeth, finally relaxed a bit as the pain of such horrible stretching lessened. His balls felt heavy between his legs, heavier than they'd ever felt before, but no longer painful. Was it over?

It was good that he had been too exhausted to voice such a question. The goodra probably would've laughed at him more. A few seconds after his balls had been irrigated with whatever ooze it was the goodra had pumped them with, he felt it start squirming again, first splitting itself into two masses before crawling up the walls of his sac. It wrapped itself around both his testicles, coating them in a thick layer of slime.

Then, it started to sting. Then, it started to [i]burn.[/i] Pookie's first comparison would've been fire, but had he any experience with the stuff, he would've more accurately compared it to acid.

"[b]AAAAUUUUUUUUUU![/b]" Pookie started thrashing himself from side to side, swinging himself by the grip the goodra had around his wrists. It hurt something fierce, such dainty joints being forced to bear the weight of his whole body violently jerking around, but the pain was immaterial in the face of the utter agony that was only growing in intensity between his thighs. His hindlegs made spasmodic movements, occasionally kicked, but any great motion seemed to make his balls hurt worse. Not that anything he did made them feel better.

The goodra watched the whole thing with an expression of placid contentment. She could see the shifting movement under the skin and fur of Pookie's sac, the way the balls underneath were starting to lose shape and deform. He was a fertile one, usually it took longer for things to take. It was nice that she had found such a good breeder; it was unfortunate that he would not be able to make a repeat performance.

The pain got worse and worse, until, quite suddenly, it stopped. It had suddenly cut off amid the feeling of something [i]else[/i] cutting off inside Pookie's sac, something more physical, like a pair of cords being snipped. Sniffling and blinking eyes full of tears, Pookie looked down and tried to look down at his balls, see what had become of them.

They certainly looked different. It was a bit tricky to see them with his erect cock in the way, knot still swollen to its fullest, but he could get a few glimpses if he craned his head and moved his hips the right way. His sac no longer had two familiar ovoid forms bulging inside. It hung limp between his legs, the thick slime pooling in the bottom the only thing giving it shape.

As both Pookie and the goodra watched, that slime grew in size. The sylveon let out another pained groan; it felt like he'd been hit by a giga drain, energy and fluids being sucked from his body and drawn into his balls, feeding this budding presence inside of him.

The draining and size growth were directly linked. Every second of increasing weakness translated to his sac growing that much more fat with ooze between his thighs, surpassing the size of apples, grapefruits—growing and growing until they'd reached the size of a pair of cantelopes. They were so heavy the weight of gravity tugging on them was painful, and the sylveon they were attached to so weak he could no longer struggle, didn't even think he could muster the strength to stand under his own power.

Recognizing at least one of those facts, the goodra holding him lowered him down and laid him out on his side on the ground, the pain in his balls relieved as they were given a place to rest their weight on the grass. They spilled out over it like a pair of water balloons, looking obscene—and looking all the more obscene when the slime inside started moving again, bulging the skin of his sac as they took on a shape that, while it was more rounded, was most definitely [i]not[/i] the shape of testicles. They had antennae.

Then, one moved to make its exit. While he didn't have the strength to make any greater movement than a twitch, Pookie found he did have the strength to scream. So he screamed as high and as loud as he could as one of the lumps inside his sac started pushing up towards his urethra, compressing down only as much it absolutely had to in order to fit through his internal plumbing.

"[b]KKKYYYAAAAAIIIEEEE![/b]"

The goodra smiled. The bulge squeezing its way up Pookie's left vas deferen was as thick as an apple, though a good deal longer, squished down to conform to the shape of the passage it was wriggling through. It was a good, healthy size, a testament to just how strong and virile the sylveon had been: a perfect host. Hopefully he'd go back to being just as strong, though there was little to be done for his virility.

The lump of slime kept squeezing its way up through Pookie's insides, and once it reached the sylveon's swollen knot, it found that his urethra got a whole lot stretchier than any of his ducts inside had been. They could fit more slime, spread even wider, serve as a far better passage for birthing.

Pookie's picturesque manhood, a perfect breeding tool, was made to bulge obscenely as a long clump of slime the thickness of a grapefruit split it wide and squeezed towards freedom. Pookie never stopped screaming. His cock throbbed, not in pleasure, but from his muscles trying their hardest to expel what was rolling through his cock and stretching it into complete uselessness. It was completely ineffective. The slime moved at its own pace, unappreciative of the efforts of the sylveon's body.

And eventually, it reached its destination. First to appear were the antennae that Pookie had seen bulging through his sack before, four lavender coloured prongs jutting out from a similarly coloured head. When those had popped out, the sylveon's urethra had been stretched to the size of a lemon. As it was spread wider still, features could start to be discerned, the black markings of a primitive face. A goomy.

Its body piled up on the grass in a slimy heap as the goomy wriggled free, and Pookie's cockslit was split open even more as the rest of its body emerged, twice as wide before the thing was finally completely free. The last bit of dark purple tugged free of his cock, and his shaft slumped down towards the grass in its absence, urethra gaping and looking positively deflated—yet not flaccid, being that it was still completely outside of his sheath, that deflated look the mark of some far worse damage.

Pookie used all his strength to raise his head for a glance at it, looking at the world through a veil of tears, and as soon as he got even that blurry glimpse of his manhood, his head dropped back to the grass. He wished he hadn't bothered. His penis looked awful, horrible! He was [i]ruined[/i]; he'd never breed again!

And all that even before the second goomy stirred to life inside him and started squeezing up passageways already stretched to the point of uselessness for transporting semen—not that he could produce any now, anyway. Pookie started screaming again.

---

The goodra held her two new children in either arm, giving them both a kiss on the forehead. They wiggled their antennae in delight at her affection. Oh, they were gorgeous! It wasn't often that she found such prime breeders wandering around the forest like this. She'd been looking for someone who'd bear her some worthy children for so long!

She leaned down and gave Pookie a kiss on the forehead as well. He let out a weak, distant moan in response. Pookie barely knew where he was anymore. His sac hung limp and empty between his legs, devoid of both testicles and slime, nothing more than empty skin. His dick was stretched out and limp between his thighs, incapable of performing any sort of penetration ever again. Would it even go back in his sheath? He was ruined. That was the word that rang through his mind over and over again: ruined, ruined, [i]ruined.[/i]

The goodra didn't feel too bad, though. Pookie was a boy, they could get off from getting pounded in the tailhole, she knew that. Plus, he was a sylveon; he'd have no trouble at all getting the boys to line up for a chance to pound him, girly li'l nullo with his useless cock. No more need to worry about competing for females or getting scared away by overly territorial alphas, just getting rutted by other, more intact males!

Yeah, she was sure that he'd be a lot happier this way. Content with herself and eager to deliver her children back to her nest, the goodra gave Pookie's gaping cock a friendly pat before getting up and starting in on the long walk home.