FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

King. That's what they call me--the king of Team Plasma. N Harmonia. Having finally left the flower of my childhood, on the day I came of age I was crowned before the seven sages and my father. Already, we are pouring our intellects together, hoping to jointly come up with a way to shatter the yokes which humans have placed upon pokemon and bring justice to the Unova region.

Pokemon are beautiful, incredible creatures. I spent my childhood with them, rolling and exploring and playing and seeing just how many scars human cruelty could bestow upon their fragile forms. I am one of the precious few who can know their hearts and speak their tongue, and there is no greater honor than for a human to dedicate his or her life in service to the wellbeing of the world's other creatures.

Today, I wonder if there are other ways to save pokemon beyond just freeing them from trainers.

The pokemon who begs for my help is a tall, proud Bug-type, a Scolipede. This is a species which is already large and formidable, but this pokemon is a matriarch, bigger than the rest of her kin, and I can tell just from a glance that she is gravid, swollen and enormous with eggs, so pregnant that she struggles to raise her great bulk from the floor and take even a few toddling steps towards me.

"Are you the one my sisters speak of?" she says, her voice ragged with strain. "The one who hears our words? The king?"

"I am," I tell her.

She tries to take another step, fails, sinks to the floor with a hiss. "I need your help." I step closer to her, sinking down on one knee so that our faces are level, and wait for her to speak. When she does so, it is between panting breaths. "I'm pregnant... I cannot find anyplace to lay my eggs. My kind is required to lay our eggs in the womb of another creature. But the pokemon here all serve you, and so I cannot simply force myself on them." She breaks off, grunting, for half a minute before speaking again. "Please, king of Team Plasma. I beg you. Order your pokemon to open their wombs to me. If I lay them exposed in the air, my brood will die--and if I continue to hold them within me, it will cost me my life."

Her plea is not unreasonable. Many Bug-type pokemon rely on oviposition as a natural part of their life cycle. It is not her fault that her brood needs the womb of another to mature. But I cannot imagine taking any of the pokemon who come to me for solace and refuge and ordering them to accept this intrusion. It would be too much.

Is this the trial of a king? To order my pokemon to open themselves to her would be injustice to their own desires--yet nor is it just for this Scolipede or her young to perish. No right choices. No proper path.

Or, I realize, the answer coming to me like a breath of pollen on the spring breeze, isn't there?

"Must the new host of your brood," I ask, punctuating each word carefully to ensure she won't miss it, "be a pokemon?"

She shakes her head, even that tiny action laborious. "No. So long as they are the right size, it will be enough."

The right size? Surely an adult human would suffice.

The Bug-type raises her head. "My king?" she posits. "Have you a womb in mind?"

I almost laugh. Have I? I have one in mind indeed.

I considered myself male ever since my youth, but my body frustrated me. Ghetsis and the rest of Team Plasma didn't mind. So long as I communed with pokemon and saw their souls, their wants, their wishes, it didn't matter whether I called myself king or queen, boy or girl.

It has been a long time since I was bothered by my body's "plumbing," as it were, and in fact, I realize that perhaps I alone among kings am uniquely suited to attending to particular needs of those who beg my favor.

"I do," I reply, turning my attention to her. "Mine."

---

It takes place later that same night. The Scolipede needs release as soon as possible, and I am not one to put things off if they can be done right away.

Stripped of clothes, I wonder how another human might take me, my form leanly masculine except for the well-trimmed slit between my legs. The Scolipede couldn't care less. She is not attracted to humans; she just needs somewhere to put her eggs.

Her size and her weariness will make things difficult, but I manage to maneuver us into a position effective, I think, for us both. I'm resting my arms and torso on a makeshift breeding bench, and she is mounting me, her form hulking over mine and her forelegs draped on the bench as well. I feel her ovipositor nestled beneath my slick slit, already starting to tense; it is lubricating itself with viscous fluid, an evolutionary boon for a large species that needs to push into others on a regular basis.

Having readied myself beforehand with fingers and toys, I am slick and loose and as ready as I can be. Now all that is left is for her to begin the process. I don't bother to tell her that fingers and toys are the only things that have ever been inside of me; it seems superfluous to say otherwise. In other circumstances, I might find it amusing to think that the first to claim my depths will be a female pokemon.

"King N," she says, her voice raw with exertion and, I am recognizing, a growing lustful anticipation. "Thank you."

In response, I press my hips back against her, making her gasp and groan. "I live to serve pokemon," I say, because it is true. "This is just another way of doing it."

"If only other humans could be like you," she murrs. She slowly hikes her hips back and I feel her ovipositor dra-a-a-a-g against the underside of my slit, making my voice hitch with anticipation. Soon enough, I feel the tip nestle at my entrance, and I squirm despite myself, a whine worming itself out from between my lips and teeth.

She is waiting for my go-ahead, and once I give it to her, she claims me.

My voice leaves me entirely as her immensity pushes inside. She is big, big, her ovipositor far outstripping any human cock in both length and girth. But the smooth contours of it, coupled with the slick fluid coating the outside, make it go in with relative ease. Soon enough, my mind is reeling--not only from processing the sudden, almost alien feeling of sudden occupation, but also from a low, burning euphoria. My slit and my tunnel love this new sensation; the feeling of being filled, being bred.

A king, I think deliriously, loving being rutted by a bug.

And rut me she does. Her rhythm is different than that of male creatures with cocks--she starts fast and stays that way, the ultimate intent to stimulate me enough for my cervix to loosen and for her to lay her brood. But I don't mind what she's doing to me one bit. Every thrust leaves me aching with satisfaction, every push sends pleasure crashing through me like a landslide. I clench despite myself, but barely manage anything at all; that's how fully she fills me, how immense she is inside. The sensation of my loins fruitlessly squeezing against her leaves me sagging against the breeding bench, my voice high in a sob of sheer sexual bliss.

I hear her panting above me, partially from exertion and partially from desire. Every push from her ovipositor leaves her immense form shifting above me, leaves her belly--swollen with young--brushing up against me. Those will be in me soon enough.

She continues rutting me, keeping up that rhythmic tempo, and as the process continues I feel my cervix slowly start to relax. Before long she bumping up against it and--

Oh. Ohhhhhhhh. I sob from sheer euphoria as she surges past my innermost entrance, the tip of her ovipositor nestling just in the entrance to my womb.

I can feel the ovipositor pulsing in me: again, and again. I daren't turn around, but I can imagine the eggs slowly making their way down their mother's tube, making the ovipositor bulge slightly around them, and then they make their way inside me...

Well, I don't have long to wait. The first egg hits my entrance and squeezes in and I clench involuntarily and it's spreading me even more and I keen despite myself as I cum, I cum from being bred and being seeded, I'm a proud young man, I'm a king, and yet here I am reduced to this: shuddering and sobbing with delight as I am bred by a massive creature, my belly filling with brood.

The egg meets my cervix and the sense of it squeezing past here is even more maddening than when it entered me proper, and as it slowly pushes into my womb I quiver, my eyes rolling; the sensation is too much, I can't bear it, I can't, there's no way!

But it inexorably forces its way through, making my voice stutter and catch, and as it plops into my womb, I can feel myself stretching around it, I groan at the immense, intimate fullness of the egg inside of me. This is different than being filled by her ovipositor. The sensation is deeper, more lasting. The ovipositor has a perhaps another hour inside of me at most, but it's like my body can tell that the egg is going to be a longer-term tenant. I can already feel my womb and the rest of me preparing to accommodate the new egg, and as it settles in, snug and secure, I feel another one press against my entrance, and the cycle begins anew.

And so I am left there for minutes: shuddering, sobbing, rocking slowly as the Scolipede fills me with her children. Her eggs are uniform in size, about the weight of a tennis ball but with a different, oblong shape to them, and as they roll into me I left myself lose track of time and coherence, content to be borne aloft on the regular wave of pleasure as I am filled, filled, filled with baby pokemon.

Those few moments when I still think clearly, I can feel the sudden weight in my belly, can feel it hanging lower and surging out with each and every egg pushed in, and I think to just how full, how gravid I will be at the end of it all.

When the Scolipede is finished, she slides out of me without preamble. As her ovipositor frees itself from me with a pop, I find myself nearly hoarse from exertion. I force myself to rise from the breeding bench and stagger away, my steps halting thanks to my ponderous new weight and my newly-distributed center of balance. I rest one hand on my swollen tummy almost without realizing it; the skin beneath is tight and slightly pink with strain. My belly looks smooth from a distance, but up close you can see small, irregular bumps distending it, and feel the eggs pebbling up against your touch beneath the thin layer of skin.

"Thank you, my king," the Scolipede calls after me. Her voice is the voice of one who is weary, but relieved to finally be free of a long and tiresome burden.

I sag against the wall, sinking low, rubbing both hands over my massive, egg-laden belly as it rests in my lap. "Anything," I heave out, "for the good of pokemon."

---

The young woman before me, a new recruit to Plasma, is stuttering. She is reciting a litany of the reasons she wants to join--seeing pokemon abused by trainers, a system complicit to it all, humans who carry creatures around and only release them from their balls once they need a rock smashed or a lake ferried. But her words are stumbling and unclear.

I snap my fingers, getting her attention. "Recruit," I say, my voice firm. "What is it."

She blinks and looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. "I--oh, m-my apologies, my lord..." she says, her voice still trailing. Her eyes slide down from my face down to rest on--

Ah. My belly.

Yes, it has been months, and I am still pregnant with the Scolipede's brood. More so than ever, in fact; before it wasn't difficult to move from place to place, but now I can barely waddle from one room to the next, my womb is so swollen. At night, I sometimes lie awake in bed, stroking my belly and murmuring to the young within. I know they are not my genetic children, but I've carried them long enough that I think I can name myself their parent in good faith.

It caused quite a splash when word first got around Team Plasma, but the grunts quickly grew accustomed to their king's new gravid form, and I think I gained some measure of respect among them. It was one thing to preach words about saving pokemon, but now they knew their king was willing to go as far as anyone to help them.

And I would again, I think. It was a private reflection I had come across. Ghetsis and the Sages would be frustrated; they had delayed their plans until my 'condition' had solved itself, as it were. But already, there were pokemon desperate to breed with no willing mates. Many were in the Human-like egg group, which was known for its compatibility with people...

But I am digressing. Lost in thought. The recruit.

"Yes?" I say imperiously, resting my head on my knuckles. "What is it?"

If she mocks or questions me, she will be expelled, and that will be that--but this recruit surprises me. Blushing, she offers a halting query: "Is--are those--p-pokemon inside of you?"

I nod in assent and she blushes more, suddenly looking shifty but also... hopeful? "Could it be," she said, her voice faltering, "that... um, that I might be called on to, uh, h-help pokemon in that--that way, my king? If you, um, will it?"

Well. Well now. This is intriguing. I think to the Human-like pokemon desperate for mates to breed with. I think to this eager young woman being pinned to a wall by one of them, moaning as their cocks surge into her, and then I think to after, her belly growing with life.

I smile. Ghetsis and his plan for liberation can afford to wait a bit longer. "Why yes," I say, and a smile blooms across her face. "I think I can arrange that."