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An Eevee does what!?

For the 'Café Plaisir: An Eevee Walks Into A Bar' Anthology

By Dark Violet

It was a soft smile that Robin wore, walking into the main bar of Café Plaisir. In fact, a lot about him was soft; the padding of his paws on the carpet, the cream ruff of fur gently bouncing around his neck, the way the fabric of his satchel moved as he walked. His expression, especially; he smiled cordially at waiters, or gently stepped out of the way of customers, unobtrusively and unassumingly making his way through the calm room.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the lunch rush had been over for a while. Waiters wandered between cleared tables with cloths, or conversed idly by the bar, their gentle chatter being far from anything that could be described as commotion. Through a door leading to a patio, an errant shaft of sunlight made specks of dust flicker and shine as they tumbled through the warm air.

Robin made his way to one of the tables - a small, discrete one, over in the corner - and pulled himself up onto one of the two seats. He shuffled the small satchel onto the table.

"Well hey there! What can I get for you?"

Robin looked up. A Lucario beside the table; with the petite form and bashful eyes, it was difficult to tell the gender. Well, for some, anyway - Robin's eyes did not wander far enough south to the black apron, fabric bulging across the crotch.

Robin nodded. "Oh! Thank you. A cup of black tea, please. Milk, no sugar."

"Hm, with a little something special...? We here at Café Plaisir would be very happy to serve you in any way we can." the Lucario said in a lilting voice - not so much rehearsed as practised, with just enough intention and entendre to tease at those that heard it...

Robin smiled. "Oh, no thanks."

There was a pause. It was small, but it was definitely there. Somewhere, some gears ground to a halt, and only slowly began to turn again.

"Okay... So, just a black tea?"

"Yes please." Robin repeated, giving a slight nod. "Thank you very much."

After a slight hesitation, the Lucario turned away.

Quite happily by himself, the Eevee gently pulled a book from the satchel, and placed it on the table. Then, taking just enough time to nestle back against the seat and let out a gentle sigh of pleasure, he picked it up, and began to read.

Eventually, he reached up with a paw, and turned a page.

His tea came and was placed down by the same Lucario as before. Robin smiled, said 'thank you', and took a cursory sip, before returning to his book. A moment later, the Lucario walked away.

At the bar, glasses were filled, and distributed. After a while, they were retrieved, and then washed, and carefully put back on their shelves.

Conversations started, and trailed off. On one wall, a clock ticked softly.

Another page turned...

"Hey, kid!"

The voice was more insistent than the Lucario's had been. Robin lowered his book, and smiled up at the source.

It was a Furret, who was leaning against the table and staring at the Eevee. His fur looked brushed, but in that way that someone does thirty seconds before leaving the house, in the hope that it would give an air of looking decent and smart - a hope that has, in the history of the world, seldom born fruit. Around his waist (or at least, at a place somewhere down the body - the waist on an adult Furret can be anywhere within a region of a couple of feet), dangled a little black apron. He was wearing what he probably thought was a sly smile, but was more of a hopeful smirk.

"Hello." said Robin.

"I noticed you sittin' over here all by y'self. Figured an unassumin' bloke like yourself might be interested in a little proposition."

Robin gave a very small frown. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Dibble's the name. I runs the shop around 'ere, lovely li'le shop, just over there, and we're looking to stock anything that lovely customers - like y'self - would want."

"...so-"

"So I'm sayin'," said Dibble, like a 'mon with an ethical disagreement regarding consonants, "that if you want anythin' - and Mister, I'm sayin' anythin' - I can get it for yer. For a price, natr'lly..."

"Oh!" said Robin, smiling once more. "No thank you."

There was... another pause. It was much like the one before, but this one took a beat longer. The gears took longer to turn this time, and with less enthusiasm.

"Oh." Dibble said, shortly. "Y'sure? I said anythin', right?" He muttered quietly to himself. "I did say anythin', didn't I? Sure I did..."

"Yes, and I'm quite alright."

"Huh. Well. Alright then." Dibble said, glancing around. "I... suppose I'll be in the shop then, if you need me."

"Thank you. I'll remember that." said Robin, who returned to his book.

For some reason, this made Dibble step back once, eyes growing a touch wider. He shot a glance at nearby tables - as generally empty as they had been before, or otherwise unaware of any conversation currently taking place - and then off the Furret walked.

Robin continued to read, giving no indication he'd actually noticed him leave. A few moments later, he'd turned another page.

...ahah.

But - you see - not all was as it seemed. He was completely unaware that, on the other side of a bar, dark red eyes were watching. No, not watching - staring. They'd been staring this entire time, ever since that little Eevee had first walked in. It was a dark look, one that could make a grown 'mon tremble, that could make the daylight sky crackle with approaching thunder. Despite the afternoon sunlight, it was like the rest of the room was mired with shadow, and only the Eevee was left, in a shrinking spotlight, surrounded by the void...

Robin flicked an ear, shifted in his seat, and took another sip of tea.

The figure took in all of it, and waited. Waited...

Wait...ed...

Robin scratched his cheek idly with one paw.

The dark figure tried to stare harder. They tried to stare more meaningfully. For a few minutes, they experimented with a knowing grin.

Tick. Tock. Tick...

The figure was becoming restless. They felt like they were in some stage production, while their fellow actor had not just forgotten their lines, but not even remembered to turn up.

Robin reached up a paw. The figure leaned forwards...

Another page. Shhhhh...ck.

The figure grumbled. This was frankly embarrassing.

And so, with a resigned roll of those glowing eyes, they left too, skulking out of the bar, their aura of mystery completely lost on its intended audience.

Somewhere, the gears ground angrily away.

Not thirty seconds later, an intercom crackled from amongst the wooden beams of the ceiling.

"Please note, all customers!" range out the crisp, insistent voice. "A game of 'Evolution-Stone-Dodgeball' will be starting in the Gardens in five minutes. All customers are welcome to participate, for free! Win a free night with a waiter!"

There was a mutter of interested voices. A few Pokémon left the room. The Eevee was not among them.

"And... more...?"

Robin yawned, and turned another page.

"Oh, for the love of-"

The intercom popped as it cut off.

Robin's soft gaze trailed across the page.

Taptaptaptap.

...

Taptaptaptap.

Someone was sitting in the seat across from Robin.

When he eventually noticed, several increasingly loud taps later, he looked up - only to be initially a bit confused. It was an odd creature there, generally canine, but not exactly as 'Pokémon' as he'd expected. They looked like a Lycanroc who was part of a Mightyena fanclub. There was fur sticking out every which way, and teeth that looked a little too big to be convincing. Its claws, sharp, black, were the source of the tapping as they drummed against the varnished tabletop. A white crest of fur across the head stuck up like a mohawk, in a way that the owner probably thought looked cool, with one errant strand that had been dyed purple and now tumbled across its face. And this creature was fixing him with an exasperated, violet stare.

"What are you doing?" it said.

Robin frowned. It was a question to which he thought was obvious. "I'm reading," he said, for he was.

The creature closed its eyes, then leant forwards. "No... what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I'd think so too, because you're being very annoying."

Robin frowned, and glanced towards the bar. "I'm sorry, I'll order another drink-"

"I don't work here."

"...then I'll be quieter-"

"And I'm not a customer."

Robin sat with his mouth half-open for a moment. "Then... I don't know what the issue is, but I'd really like to get back to my book."

He lifted it up - only for a claw to hook itself over the top and pull it back down again, replacing his vision with the creature, now leaning unsettlingly towards him.

"Yeah, and that's the problem. For someone so interested in reading a story, you seem to have a very poor grasp of what makes a good one."

"Look, I'm very sorry," Robin said in the exasperated tone of one who isn't and isn't quite interested in being, "but I don't understand", in the tone of someone who really doesn't want to.

"An Eevee walks into a bar" the creature said, meaningfully.

Robin had the distinct feeling that he was missing some grand point that was being made. "...Yes?"

"Let me break it down for you..." The creature gestured with both front paws as they continued. "An Eevee - a Pokémon universally known for being a font of possibilities, whose name is practically synonymous with 'opportunity' - walks into a bar - and not just any bar, but Café Plaisir's bar."

The creature stared at him with wide eyes from beneath the flopped hairdo. Robin wondered when he was going to be asked for spare change. "Yes?"

"What do you mean, 'yes'? Do you realise how many different kinds of stories start here? How many coming-of-age tales, how many lost-traveller-finding-the-home-they-never-knew-they-wanted stories? How many slices of life, clashes of personalities? How many sexual awakenings we've served here? Lives changed, friends made, passions indulged - and you're reading a book!?"

"It's a good book." Robin shrugged.

"I'm sure it is, but you're ruining mine."

"Look - could you please leave me in peace?"

"No."

"...why not?"

"Because you're going to put that book down, catch one of these hanging plot threads I've been dangling in front of your face, have some raucous, passionate, life-changing sex, and eventually evolve as part of some great, meaningful-yet-salacious climax."

"...What? Why should I?"

"Because that's what I'm writing you to do!"

This time, the pause was oh-so different to the ones before. It was like the rest of the world had become distorted, seen through glass.

"Look," the creature said, waving a paw at themselves. "Dark Violet."

Robin's little brow creased. "You're more of a light grey-"

"-is my name. And I'm involved in this project, y'see, where we all make stories about an Eevee walking into Café Plaisir's bar, getting fucked, and evolving. And you're my entry."

"I'm-"

"But the problem is, you're refusing to enter anything! Or be entered! Or anything! Do you realise how frustrating that is?"

"I... no?"

"Then listen." The creature leaned back. Its hair-

"Female pronouns, please." Dark Violet muttered.

...Her hair-

"Thank you."

-flopped over the other eye. "Stories come from conflict, right?" She continued. "They arrive because some protagonist has been presented with some problem, and must go on a journey - physical or emotional or what-have-you - to resolve it. Right?"

"Yes." Robin said. It was, after all, fairly correct.

"So why aren't you getting involved in it all?"

Robin opened his mouth, shut it, and open it again. "Why would I want to? I don't want conflict."

"That's the spirit!" Dark Violet smiled. Then frowned. "Wait, no, that's not enough. You still need to get involved in a story! Any story!"

"But what if I just want to sit here and read a book?"

"Because that's not the point!" Dark Violet was exasperated now. "Do you know how many good stories involve a protagonist who just wants to sit down with a book and a cup of tea?"

"Well, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy-"

"Oh, shut up. Adams wasn't trying to write a Pokémon fap fic." She paused. "Though I suppose, in this universe, he might have..."

Robin put his book down on the table. A mild annoyance was building within him - in fact, it was more than that. It was developing into a full-blown gentle indignance. He stared at the strange creature that thought a colour was a suitable name. "So, you're saying that I'm a character in an erotic story, who's supposed to have sex with someone-"

"Or something."

"Or... what? I... and then evolve. Yeah?"

Dark Violet nodded. "Yep."

"But what if I don't want to evolve?"

"That's conflict! That's fine by me."

"Hey!"

Dark Violet shrugged, leaning back. "Nothing I haven't written before. Wouldn't even be the first in this anthology to go with that..."

Robin tapped the table. "Your... characters do have enjoyable lives, right...?"

Dark Violet waved her head from side to side. She squinted. "On the whooole...?"

"Oh, my goodness."

"It's alright, it's alright. I'm not thinking this is a story where anyone gets killed or anything-"

"That's your criteria for alright!?"

Dark Violet waved her paw. "It's fine, it's fiiine, don't worry... I guess I'll just, Idunno. I don't like it, but I guess it'll have to do."

"Do... what? Excuse me, Miss...ter...? ...but I really don't think I want this."

Dark Violet shrugged. "Oh, you will."

For the first time in five and a half pages, Robin felt conflicted. He was a real person, gosh darnit. Of course he was! A real Eevee with real feelings. He wasn't some avatar created on a whim! But the possibility... well, it was quite literally staring him in the face.

Robin decided to stare back. Eevees were good at that. Dark eyes made for wonderful staring.

"You would do that?" He said, as that possibility gripped his mind. "You'd just... up and change my whole personality... if it wasn't fitting right?"

Dark Violet returned a slow blinked. Then she leaned in, pushed the purple strand of hair from her face and tapped a single claw against the table.

"For sex?"

Her grin gleamed.

"Hell yeah."

And then she was gone.

Robin stared straight ahead. After a while, a frown creased his little face. He then blinked, picked up his book, and flicked through to find his page. He'd not remembered putting it down.

The intercom popped. Robin looked up. Once more, a tinny, feminine voice carried through the warm, afternoon air.

"Er, to all customers, surprise announcement... it looks like our special bar, Captivate, has, um... broken out into an orgy. We've got...practically everyone there."

The voice went silent for a moment, but the intercom didn't, leaving nothing to mask the crackling, distorted sound of dozens of moans and thrusts.

"So, errr... go nuts?"

The intercom popped again, and went silent.

Robin stared into space for a few seconds.

Then he said, "...I might as well..."

And so, the little Eevee wandered into Captivate...

What followed is perhaps a little too much that one story can describe. There are only so many times that an Eevee can be thrown against a chair and railed, before one can almost become as delirious as Robin becomes, eyes crossed as his latest taker dragged the shaft from his twitching, tired behind. There are only so many instances one can read of the Eevee clambering onto a stage and pressing his little muzzle against the waiting folds, or spade, or slit, or ovipositor, of a bent-over brothel-goer, and losing his mind in the scents and tastes that await him, surrounded by gyrating shapes in the flickering, rainbow lights of the nightclub.

One can only describe so many variations of him burying himself balls-deep inside someone, shaft twitching against walls masculine, feminine, and everything in between. The number of paws he licks and laps would take a zoology course to describe let alone understand, and the amount of bodily fluids he eagerly drank, regardless of what they were, would be astounding - and as for the number of panting figures underneath him that would find a not-so-shocking surprise nine months later (or that species equivalent), well, it would strain credibility. Though, perhaps not as much as the various orifices he got stuffed into-

My point is that it wasn't a run-of-the-mill orgy, that is to say, some glorified bukkake with extra players. No, this was a Plaisir orgy, where anyone and everyone could indulge in their own ways and their own fantasies, find their own little corner. All genders were involved; all genitalia licked; hair and fur pulled; dances conducted; inflatables found and ground against; costumes worn and ripped; siblings called and dragged in; body parts worshipped; transformations conducted; alcohol drunk; berries smoked; and an Eevee fucked...

And fucked...

And fucked...

And that is what I call a happy ending.

Fin