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When Aetos had gone out that night, he hadn't expected to get completely fucked-up. A couple sips of sake and whiskey had been the start of it, but from his tipsiness came the brazen notion that he wasn't getting drunk at all. So Aetos had some warm, smooth sake, and then he had a couple shots of whiskey. The tequila on top of it hadn't done him any favors, and that four or five beers he'd been obligated to chug after being challenged to a drinking contest had been the cherry on top.

After being disgorged from the taxi cab (and taken for forty dollars on top of his fare because he had gotten violently sick in the car), Aetos bumbled his way into the house. Mom and dad, he knew, were roosting for the night by then. Once they were asleep, you couldn't wake them up with a gunshot. His older brother might be a little bit more of an obstacle, but he was usually pretty cool about his younger brother sneaking home after dark. He wasn't used to Aetos smelling like vomit and booze, but that would probably sort itself out.

The swallow, just eighteen years old and certain of himself in many ways, encountered surprising difficulty getting in the back door. Midway through attempting to shove his car key into the lock, he turned and got sick again. It was a mess he hoped nobody would notice in the lawn. On the upside, his stomach finally felt a little better.

Once indoors, Aetos consulted his mental map of the house. Through the utility room door and into the kitchen he went, then a few paces aside, and then he was in the dining room. He was making good time, he felt; it had only taken him fifteen minutes to grope along the walls to this point. It was when he got into the living room that things took a nosedive.

Aetos had very good vision as a swallow, but the liquor was of course a handicap. He didn't notice the pink eyes of the Zangoose nor the red glare of the Weavile, but they noticed him in the glow of the night light. By the time they did occur to him, he was halfway along the back of the couch and it was too late: the Zangoose clapped his clawed mitt around the swallow's beak and took him down to the floor, where he landed in a muted bump. Aetos tried to squawk, but the Pokemon kept a tight grip.

Working as a team, the Zangoose kept him restrained while the Weavile opened up his clothes. She did this with her short but terribly sharp claws, making rends in the bile-streaked denim he was wearing but leaving his jacket and shirt unmolested. When she saw the slight swell of his genital slit, she grinned and groped on it. Aetos was already blushing from his inebriation, but if he hadn't been drunk, he would have started to glow then.

Drunk though he was, Aetos proved susceptible to the molestation. He didn't know why exactly his brother's Pokemon were doing this, but he found that he wasn't minding it the longer it went on. The Zangoose seemed to realize that he wasn't going to fuss and fight, because he unhanded the swallow's beak - though he stayed ready to hush the bird in case he decided to cry out.

A soft moan passed Aetos' beak, followed by a belch of considerable magnitude. The two Pokemon exchanged looks, with the Zangoose giving a heave of his shoulders.

Emerging from its slit slowly, Aetos' smooth avian meat filled out the Weavile's grabbing paws neatly. It wasn't of a particularly impressive size, but to her it was large enough to be satisfying. Still grinning - and glancing briefly at her Zangoose companion - she straddled their prey and ground her small, but somewhat pronounced vulva on his meat. Aetos let out a tiny cry and some inarticulate words. The popcorn texture of the ceiling swam and warped before his drunk eyes.

Lacking in fanfare, the Weavile penetrated herself on Aetos' virgin penis. The bird groaned warmly, letting his pretty amber eyes drift shut. He actually wanted to protest the fact that he was losing his virginity to a Pokemon, but he couldn't think of which words to say. Feebly, he touched her small body, dragged his soft black hide over her short fur. She rubbed his hand, touching the scales on the back of his wrist, and then began to bounce.

Unceremoniously behind the couch, Aetos had his first time with his brother's Weavile. That alone would have been enough to screw anybody up for a while, but then the Zangoose reminded Aetos that he was there when he pulled apart the swallow's legs and felt under the Weavile and her slowly riding body. He prodded the bird's snug, previously unmolested anus, using the tip of one of his gnarly talons. Aetos winced and blurted, "Huh--, hey... hey, don't...!"

His protest meant nothing to the Zangoose. He and the Weavile both figured the bird wouldn't even realize this had happened the next day - so why not enjoy him?

Moving with grace but also eagerness, the Zangoose pushed the pointed tip of its penis against the bird's pucker. The bird was of course dry, and the Zangoose didn't have much in the way of precum to ease the penetration, but he nevertheless entered the young bird. Aetos clapped his beak shut, causing a sharp and reverberant click like a stiletto on tile. He quietly whined, and tears welled in his drunk eyes. He pawed at the Weavile again, believing he was somehow appealing to her, but she merely put her paws over his hands and rode him more firmly.

Slowly but very firmly, the Zangoose laid claim to Aetos' anal virginity. A soft purr escaped him, a pleasurable noise caused by both the swallow's inherent tightness and the fluffiness of the tailfeathers rubbing against his balls. He wrapped his arms around the Weavile, albeit loosely, not wanting to interfere with her ride.

At that particular moment, Aetos wanted somebody to discover them. Being busted for the fact that he was blackout drunk didn't seem so bad if it meant that horrible raw feeling in his ass could stop. It reminded him of the single time he'd fingered himself, just a curious facet of teenage masturbation, but the Zangoose's penis was bigger than his finger, and the pain was ongoing and much, much deeper than his finger had ever caused. He clawed on the hardwood floor, pawed at the back of the couch, uttered some inarticulate plea. Despite the pain, he was still hard.

The Weavile didn't know or care that Aetos was uncomfortable and even a little afraid. She was sitting pretty on his swollen birdmeat, loving how it throbbed against the tight inner walls of her muff. She and the Zangoose often played around, but that was nowhere near as satisfying as taking advantage of somebody like Aetos. Fucking a trainer - even if he wasn't one, exactly - was a thrill.

In a counter-rhythm, the Zangoose bucked into Aetos as the Weavile pulled up. As she dropped, the Zangoose pulled back. It wasn't intentional, merely happening that way, but it left Aetos feeling perpetually used. He whimpered and pawed at the female Pokemon once more before he simply gripped at the floor, raking his claws on the wood and holding one of the sofa's legs.

Aetos was too buzzed and upset to realize it, but the pain was settling, replaced by pleasure. The Zangoose's chubby cock was pushing on the right spots, causing him prostate stimulation - that sweet pleasure he'd been searching for vainly those years ago when he fingered his ass. Huffing, feeling what seemed to be a sweltering heat all over his body, Aetos kicked at the floor and caught himself bucking into the Weavile. Suddenly her pussy felt incredibly inviting, and he realized with some disappointment in himself that he was nearing an orgasm.

A shudder wracked the young swallow's body as he bucked, then shot into the Weavile, pointlessly filling her with his seed. He heard her utter a soft coo, then she draped herself over him, rubbing his downy breast with her clawed fingers. Her bounces became gyrations, and her pussy ached around him with the need for release.

"Mmh, fffuck, sto-o-op," Aetos heard himself burbling. His cheeks were blazing, his forehead damp, and his tongue seemed clumsy and thick in his beak. With the passing of his orgasm, he felt he could have fallen asleep if not for the two Pokemon still having their way with him. The Weavile's urgent gyrations kept him from going soft, and furthermore she was nearly causing him pain because his cock had become oversensitive. He clicked his beak and whined.

The Weavile raked her claws down Aetos' downy body and uttered a little hiss of her own. She was bucking, grinding, mashing her slightly swollen pussy down into the bird's slit. His own cum oozed from her, dirtying his body and hers. It was a wonderful sensation to know she'd milked that from him and stolen his virginity, and it was with that cruel satisfaction at the forefront of her thoughts that she dug her claws into his fluff and tossed back her head. Her lithe body shuddered and she erupted with a climax, gushing honey down the bird's smooth shaft. Her pussywalls clenching on his tender shaft made him wince and squeeze the leg of the couch. His chest was heaving. He wanted to cry out but knew better.

The stress of his situation coupled with the drunkenness made Aetos gag. He felt the liquor and the unhealthy snacks he'd been munching all night about to make a surprise appearance, and he whipped to the side, bucking the Weavile whom lunged off of him with a start yet landed gracefully nevertheless. The Zangoose was a bit less fortunate, finding himself cock-blocked in the middle of some particularly satisfying grinds. He grabbed the bird's thigh, but uselessly; the swallow was already rolling onto his belly.

Head swimming and stomach roiling, Aetos pulled himself up onto his all fours. The Zangoose mounted him again, mashing his cock into the bird. Aetos' dark beak popped open for a yowl, but instead came the foul, somewhat modulated noise of a retch... and then the payload. He vomited with astonishing force and volume. The discarded, bilious liquor flowed across the hardwood, floating across its sealed surface.

Though the Weavile blinked and stared at the mess, even looking to Aetos' dripping beak and crying eyes with some concern, the Zangoose was brutal. He hugged the swallow's pretty tail plumage and nailed him, smashing his hips into the bird's soft, slightly round ass again and again in a notable show of selfishness. The smell of the mess was repellent, but the Pokemon had been near his climax when Aetos suddenly had to let loose. Even now as the bird shuddered and threatened to pass out in his own puke, the Zangoose was determined to get off.

Back to where he'd been before the swallow's regurgitation, the Zangoose forewent his bucks and started to grind instead, bottoming out in Aetos and pushing hard against his soft, downy bottom. He pressed on the bird's back, not caring that the young thing clearly couldn't wouldn't be able to hold himself up for long. He lashed his luxuriant tail and pushed his talons threateningly into Aetos' back.

Suddenly but fortunately, a deep shudder passed through the Zangoose's body. He shot into the bird, filling his tight and freshly-deflowered ass with a sticky mess. Aetos clenched his wet eyes shut and said in a whimpering, cowed way, "Please, no more, I just wanna sleep..."

Slowly, the Zangoose pulled back from Aetos, leaving the bird's anal entrance swollen and throbbing with a fresh ooze of semen dribbling from it down into his genital slit. He and the Weavile wandered off satisfied and uncaring, back to their trainer's bedroom.

Aetos tried to crawl away from the mess he'd made, but in the dark, he put the heel of his hand into his own vomit. It slipped out from under him, bringing him crashing into the sticky floor, ruining his jacket and t-shirt in one fell swoop. After that, he simply fell asleep crying. The next morning, he shamefully told his parents that the guys he'd gone drinking with had raped him. He still had to share a house with his brother's Pokemon, after all.