FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

There were multiple Pokémon League sanctioned arenas dotted around Wesson Town, ranging in scale from the enormous Coliseum Gym to a small allotment tucked behind a bike shed near the Train Station. It was in these spaces that Trainers could battle freely, with various countermeasures in place to mitigate any collateral damage caused by Moves. An Artificial Intelligence Module served as a referee and enforced Official Tournament Rules, a console at every battlefield into which Trainers may place their wagers and select the type of match that they would engage in.

Dusty was on fire. Both figuratively, and literally. But fire was not very effective, and a final Rock Slide was all that was necessary to finish off the Ninetails that had dared to challenge him. He leered over the defeated Pokémon as she struggled to pull herself back to her paws, his eyes shining with pinkish-red malice, his claws flexing as he growled his threat, “I'm going to slice you from cunt to muzzle…" Dusty stepped forward, raising his arm – but the vixen disappeared into red light before he could touch her.

No matter. He got what he wanted. That look of terror she had given him before she was recalled by her Trainer was all that he was really after. Weak Pokémon should be afraid. The defeated should be thrown away. Losers should fuck off and die. He turned back to his Master and gave a thumbs up made awkward by the configuration of his paw, the gesture returned with a smile. From Olin's angle, it seemed to him that his kind Lycanroc was reaching out to help up his defeated adversary. What sportsmanship!

It wasn't Dusty's intention to deceive him – but Olin would always assume the best of his precious companion. He was too good. Too kind. That's why he needed to be protected. That useless parasite of an Espeon couldn't do it. The breeding whore Nidoqueen was equally useless. So, it was up to Dusty to take care of everyone.

His nose twitched.

Everyone? Why would he think that? The only one that Dusty cared about was his Master. Vee's repeated attempts to befriend him were infuriating. Didn't she understand that they were rivals for the affections of their Master? And Lady was a failure as a Pokémon, no matter how kind she was to him. He refused to acknowledge them. Neither of them could fight, and battle was the only metric by which the value of a Pokémon could be measured. Fine. If Master was so insistent on dragging around their deadweight, then Dusty would have to be as strong as three Pokémon!

His eyes glowed with vigour for the fight, and he pointed towards the line of Trainers yet to make their challenges, locking on to each Pokémon in turn, “Come on! I don't give a fuck! Type? Level? It doesn't mean shit! If your Master doesn't recall you quick enough after I put you down, then I'll gut you right here on the turf!" He drew a claw across his neck, “Who wants to die today!?"

Did that Floatzel on the end just faint? How pathetic. Dusty sneered. Better that these losers abandon the idea of being Warrior Pokémon right here, rather than keep battling and one day get hurt for real.

His nose twitched again.

Since when did he care about other Pokémon getting hurt? He'd killed Pokémon in fights before, and he'd taken those lives with a smile on his face and the thrill of victory in his heart. Why were the memories suddenly so horrifying to remember? He buried that cold feeling, and snarled at the queued Pokémon and their Trainers, “Fight me! I'll fucking murder you!" The words felt a lot less powerful than they did a few moments ago, a quaver in his voice.

Damn it. What was wrong with him? Little by little, everything was changing. He'd always heard that Pokémon tended to take after their Masters, but this was a bit much. Too many warm cuddles. Too much affection. Being able to sleep without fear. A loving mate that made him feel completely owned, cast into comfortable submission. Their home together. Even the parasite and the whore had become strangely endearing. Fuck. This wasn't Dusty. A Warrior Pokémon could not afford to become soft! These were the sentiments of losers. Losers get thrown away.

If he lost just once, Olin would tell him to fuck off and die. Dusty was still sure of that. Everything that he'd come to love would vanish from his sight. His beloved Master. But also his home. His bickering with Vee. The kindness of Lady. His family.

He scowled. No. He would not lose. He would never lose. Dusty stood at his mark at the centre of the pitch and his expression became murderous. The Lycanroc cast his sight over every casual Trainer, every Pokémon, and he envisioned their slaughter. They had just come for a good time on a Saturday, not one of them was taking this pastime seriously. But Dusty was resolved to fight until his body turned to… dust. Maybe his name was fitting after all. Was that the sort of joke that his Master would make? Fuck. He was losing his edge.

The small crowd parted, and an unexpected challenger stepped forward. Tall and blond, she would have been called beautiful by the standards of Humans, though her bored expression gave her the appearance of being aloof and unapproachable. Wearing an immaculate black suit-dress and armed with a designer handbag, Samantha Bent strode onto the field, “I did not think that we would meet again. Choosing a spot so close to my office, it's like you were hoping to run into me again." She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, “Olin Catley. You are an enigma."

Olin gave a slightly strained smile from across the pitch, leaving his mark to meet her at the centre. He'd maintained his position here for a half-dozen consecutive wins and accumulated quite the prize pool, “Uh, hello again, Miss." He spoke awkwardly, wishing that Krieg or Gideon were here to meet this woman more eloquently, “Dusty and I were just moving on. Other people want to use the field, and I've been hogging it for a while…"

“Why haven't you quit?" She spoke bluntly.

“I'm… sorry?"

“That atrocious Guide Project. Your hovel has been attacked by protestors. Bricks through the window. Graffiti in the corridor. I've had – ahem – people that I have no relation to have spat at you on the street." She gave a slight smile, making clear that her accidental slip was very much on purpose. Too bad that Olin wouldn't catch that on his best day. Samantha sighed, “You have received a settlement from the newspaper that leaked your personal information. Enough to buy yourself a nice new home. A fresh start. Somewhere… not here. Why have you not left?"

The thought of leaving Wesson Town had failed to even occur to him, “Well… Uh…" He scratched the back of his head, “I might have done if this had happened at the start. But… it feels like it's bigger than me, now." He gave a warm smile, “I think the Guide Project is really helping some Pokémon. It feels like I've done some good, too. I really believe in it, you know? It would be nice if Pokémon and Humans that choose to love each other can be happy…" She looked so annoyed with him, and Olin quickly rounded off, “I'm a pretty sturdy guy. I'm not smart. But I don't mind taking the brunt of things if it makes the world a bit better." He cringed slightly, “Ah, shit. That uh – probably sounded pretty conceited. Sorry."

“Why are you apologising to me!?" She stamped her foot looking more annoyed by that than anything else, “Ugh. Ridiculous. I can't believe I traipsed over from the office for such a lame answer! It seems that I shall have to put you in your place personally. Battle me." Her pink painted nail jabbed into his chest, “I'll show you the only thing that Pokémon are good for. Being used by Humans!"

Dusty nearly danced with joy. Samantha meanwhile, dug through her bag, “Oh, a wager, these battles always need a wager - I'm not carrying any cash right now… How about an accessory? I'll put something valuable up against your poultry winnings from today." She frowned, “Damn. The least expensive thing I carry is worth many times your pot. Though, I don't expect to lose so…" Held aloft was a small stone, grey and porous, a meteorite set into a leather band, “It was a gift from some man. Men are always giving me things… Just like Pokémon, men are just tools for me to use…"

Olin swallowed, “I… don't really want to battle you?" He looked to the side, keen to find some sort of escape. Samantha was smarter than he was and had some sort of agenda. He'd better run away. But, Dusty grabbed his hand. Olin might not want to fight, but the Lycanroc looked fired up and ready to go. Well, the whole reason that they had come out together today was for the Pokémon to have his fill of battle, “Okay. Fine. Dusty wants to fight, so… sure. I only have one Pokémon that can battle though, so, one on one?"

“Excellent." She turned her back and strode to her mark, tossing her bet into a locker beneath the console. Their arena was nothing more than a grass field, a terminal to the side of it which bleeped to acknowledge their wagers. Around a dozen onlookers, some there to watch, some to wait their turn, observed with interest. An elite looking woman squaring off against this scruffy giant of a man. Samatha flicked out her pick, “Lucario. Make that Lycanroc beg to be recalled!"

The familiar form of the black and blue jackal Pokémon took shape, the thick shock collar a blight against fine fur. She took stock of the environment quickly, the context of battle placing her into a combative stance as she surveyed Dusty carefully. She'd spotted him once before from a distance some time ago, but he had been withdrawn to his Pokéball before she could verify it. Now, as he almost mirrored her stance she knew for sure.

Dusty grinned, his eyes shining brightly, his claws flexed. Yes. Finally. A real opponent. He knew the posture she had taken, “Never thought I'd be up against another Team Nuzlocke reject! Don't think I won't spill your guts just because this Arena is a proper one! I'll kill you just like I would in the pit!" He howled out his provocations, regaining some measure of bluster when faced with familiarity.

What luck! This is exactly what he needed. The first proper Warrior Pokémon that had been put against him all day, and she had been cast out of the same dark hell from which he was hatched. This would sharpen him. This would carve away all of the nonsense that he'd heaped on his shoulders. All that mattered was victory. Before anything else, before his relationships, before his life, before even his name – he was a fighter.

But, the Lucario was as still as water, “Your heart is conflicted." She spoke softly, used to these brief exchanges in the prelude of a fight. The tone was almost emotionless.

“What the fuck does that mean!?" He lowered himself, the Humans still awaiting the chime that would signal the start of their match, the two Pokémon were allowed this brief time to converse. Dusty had always been easily goaded, “I ain't conflicted about shit!"

“You don't feel like a Team Nuzlocke Pokémon." She seemed to be looking through him, the expression in here eyes earie, “Your Aura is soft and warm. Like that man behind you. I'm jealous." Her claws dug into the turf, “But, that's also why you're going to lose."

His nose twitched. It didn't used to twitch when he was unsettled. But Olin's did, and now Dusty's did as well. He showed off his fangs, demonstrating their lethality, “I like calm and collected types like you the most! All wise and shit, thinking you've already won! I wanna see that look of fear and confusion on your face when I put you on your back! Come on, you arrogant bitch! I'm gonna carve open your belly and see if there's an egg in there!"

A chime sounded. The match began.

“Dusty! Crit fish! Use Stone Edge!" / “Lucario! Paralyze this fool! Force Palm!"

She was faster and more versatile, with a Type advantage of Fighting over his Rock. Dusty was stronger and heartier, perhaps with a bit of an edge in levels. The power required to invoke a Move made a Pokémon battle almost a turn-based affair, a cerebral match between Trainers and a test of their knowledge of the stats and abilities of the Pokémon; the Master determines the Move, and the Pokémon delivers it. But what set these two apart was the method of that delivery.

This was not an elegant dance of martial arts, or the sort of elaborate show of professional Trainers that Olin would watch on his television. The exchange was pure savagery. Dusty snarled, baring his fangs, his claws dragging furrows at his sides as he made his approach. The Lucario drew back her arm, focusing her energy while preparing to fend off her attacker. He was coming straight for her. Was he an idiot? There was no attempt to dodge, nothing but aggression. She was faster, as soon as Dusty entered her range she struck him with a Super Effective attack.

And his arms came up at her sides, a spire of stone jutting from the earth between them, slamming into her stomach and propelling the Lucario across the field. Same Type Ability Bonus. Not very effective - doubly so. But his Move was a much stronger one, and his level advantage held true. The depletion of stamina between them both was even. Dusty grinned, having been lucky enough to avoid the paralysis rider of Force Palm, “I told you I'd open up your belly, bitch!"

Lucario landed on her feet, reverting to her battle stance, “Abandonment of your defence to guarantee your hit. Perhaps you are a Team Nuzlocke Pokémon after all."

“Dusty! Boost up! Use Howl!" / “Lucario! Finish it! Close Combat!"

There was a Move he was dreading, but the combination was to his favour. Either Olin was very lucky, or he wasn't so bad a Trainer as he claimed to be! All that Dusty needed to do was hold on. If he could withstand this attack, then when he followed up, he could capitalise on Lucario's lowered defences and his own raised attack to end it in one strike. His eyes glowed with their pinkish-red malice, and he howled his battle-cry, bracing himself for the inevitable strike to come.

Critical hit.

His body was as hard as stone, but Lucario struck like a sledgehammer, her attacks an overwhelming flurry. A blow to his gut broke his defences, her elbow slammed the side of his muzzle, her foot into his knee, and a downward blow as he staggered to complete his fall to the ground. It was more than enough to finish him. Two exchanges and he was on the floor. The world went white, then black, then white again. His focus blurred. He couldn't get up.

But he must get up.

He was laughing. Why was he laughing?

The Lucario leapt back, creating some distance as Dusty dragged himself to his knees, “My Master is too good… Too kind… I love him so much that it feels even a killer like me can be a Good Boy." His body was battered and beaten, but his heart felt strangely light, “He doesn't even know. He doesn't know how much he changed me just by holding my hand."

The fight wasn't over. The two Humans had watched their orders play out, and now the battlefield righted itself for the finale. Few Pokémon battles lasted more than three clashes.

Something clicked inside Dusty, “If I lose here, I lose it all. My mate. My family. My home. Everything. Not because he'll throw me away. I get it now. He'd never throw me away…" He got to his feet, “But because I would have shown him that I'm not strong enough to protect what I love." His laugh became maniacal, “You're gonna have to kill me, you bitch! I ain't falling here! I'll never lose! Not to anyone! I'll fight fucking Arceus! I'll fight Giratina! Team Nuzlocke can form a fucking line! I'll gut every one of you!"

“You're insane…" She raised her guard.

“Yeah! I'm fucking crazy! And that's why you're gonna be the one to lose!" Clarity returned to the world. His laughter was as insane as she accused him of being, “Come on! Hit me with that Close Combat again! Get close to me! Close enough for my claws! Close enough for my fangs!"

“Dusty! I believe in you! Headbutt!" / “Idiot! How could you fail to finish it off!? Close Combat again!"

Headbutt? A Normal Type move like that was a waste of time. But Lycanroc's eyes were wild with madness, there was a sense of lethality about him. If she used Close Combat again, she would enter his range. Instinct told her that it would be dangerous. Lucario hesitated. Fear. She thought she'd forgotten fear. She thought she'd forgotten most feelings. The collar punished her every time she felt one, and after a while they had just stopped happening. But that terrible dread was what slowed the Pokémon down enough for Dusty to strike first. She flinched. He slipped through her guard –

Zen Headbutt. The Psychic Type move was his counter to Fighting Types - though only neutral in damage here, the power heightened by Howl, and her defences lowered by the aftermath of her own Close Combat. His head struck hers, and his was harder. A critical hit. Lucario blacked out immediately, unconscious before she reached the floor.

Samantha Bent scowled as the console bleeped, registering another victory for Olin. Impossible. That Lycanroc certainly should have dropped to that first Close Combat. A Pokémon looking to their Trainer and holding on beyond all logic? Nonsense. These creatures abided by numbers. If anything, this highlighted a fault with the Lucario that she had purchased. She stormed onto the field, and withdrew a small remote from her purse. “How dare you lose!?"

The Lucario spasmed, but remained unconscious as the shock collar triggered, “You worthless, useless object! You defective product!" Another great convulsion. Samantha raised her small fist. But then glanced to the side and witnessed the pool of onlookers. She lowered her hand, “No. That will come later, I think." She plastered a smile over her face and turned to her opponent, “Ahem. Well? Aren't you going to gloat?"

Olin's nose twitched.

“Please don't… do that." He'd reached Dusty, embracing the beaten and bruised Lycanroc and pulling him up into his arms. The canine went limp against him, “She's unconscious. You need to take her to a Pokémon Centre."

“A Pokémon Centre!? What it needs is punishment, not convalescence! How dare they sell me faulty goods! Don't they know who I am!?" She stamped her foot with rage, and then pressed the button again. There was enough vitality in the Lucario for her to scream, “There! That woke it up!" She held the button down, and that was enough for Olin to act.

“Let me buy your Lucario!"

“Oh?" She smiled. She smiled like a snake that had just entered a nest of unguarded eggs, her expression broad and serpentine. It made her beautiful face revolting, “That might cost you a little more than you're willing to pay." She held up the remote, and her finger hovered over the button, “You really hate this, don't you? It's only a training aid. Perfectly legal. But you hate it so much that you'll buy my Pokémon?"

Any trace of her defeat and anger vanished as Samantha Bent found an empowering position for herself, “I want half of your settlement from the newspaper for the Lucario." She tilted her head slightly, “Since you're not moving out of Wesson Town, you hardly deserve it. Additionally, the collar costs about half as much as that."

“I don't want the collar."

“Oh. Then the collar removal service is the other half of your little windfall." She cackled, “You won't take it. Nobody is so stupid as to throw away that sort of-“

“Uh… can I write you a cheque?"

-

Late that evening, Olin returned home with a victorious Lycanroc at his side. The Pokémon Centre had patched him up pretty easily, but had insisted on keeping the Lucario, citing quite the amount of old minor injuries that required treatment. They'd have her for a few days at least, but he was allowed to visit. Someone had scrawled 'Poképhile scum' over his front door, but he didn't really care. A little graffiti was nothing compared to what Lucario was going through. Tomorrow he'd repaint it. He'd fix the window again, too. No problem.

Dusty scowled at the sight of it. Well, he was the protector of their nest after all. He wore around his left wrist the spoils of his win – the little leather band with its meteorite stone that Samantha had surrendered. As well as painting his door – it might be worth calling Gideon up to identify whatever the heck it was supposed to be. Whatever it was, it registered as a Held Item and seemed compatible with a Pokéball, falling into the category of Evolution Stones.

They entered into the main room of the small apartment to reveal Lady and Vee curled up asleep on the sofa, a cooking show playing in the background. Olin switched off the television, and was quite pleased to turn around and find Dusty covering the girls with a blanket. “Good boy…" He smiled, ruffling Dusty's headfur. He'd been worried that they hadn't been getting along, but it must have just been his imagination. Olin picked up his Warrior Pokémon and carried him to bed.

It had been a long day and slumber came quickly for them both. Dusty may have been quite keen on celebrating his string of victories with a good hard mating, but he felt completely drained from his fights even after that visit to the Pokémon Centre. He was happy. Everything was right in the world. His heart was full, and maybe he'd get that fuck tomorrow. Yes. He was always the first in the house to awaken, up before the light of dawn roused the Espeon, and long before the indolent Nidoqueen. He'd awaken his Master and demand a load under his tail and another in his muzzle before breakfast. And he'd make sure that he was loud enough in his pleasure to awaken the other two Pokémon as well!

Morning arrived soon enough, and as always, his eyes were the first to open. Perfect. His Master was still asleep, and there was one way that all males like to be woken up. Dusty rolled over, intending to get to his feet... He found then that he had four of them.

Well, that was new. Or rather, old. Dusty had walked on all fours as a Rockruff as well, but that was not the form that he now took. He was as large as usual, and a brief self-assessment told him that he was lighter and faster, durability replaced with speed. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his claws, careful not to pierce the mattress beneath him as he tested the capacity of his changed self. No loss in level. A changed Moveset. An acknowledgement of his capacity for battle was his first concern.

There was a dim awareness of how this change had come about. The meteorite fragment remained strapped around his left forelimb, and knowledge of how to use it was intrinsic to him. When he focused on the stone, he felt unstable, as if caught in the midst of an Evolution. If he poured his vital energy into it, the process would exhaust him but he was sure that he could return to his Midnight form. He didn't really care where it came from or how it worked. That was the sort of thing that Humans obsessed over. All that mattered to Dusty was that he could control it. The rest was for his Master to figure out.

He glimpsed his reflection through the gloom in a bedside mirror. A Midday Lycanroc looked back at him. No longer pinkish-red and filled with malice, instead his gaze was met with bright blue eyes. The maroon fur of his body was now a soft bark brown, the sole spire of stone that once was levelled above his head was now a collar of four spikes. His tail was much more substantial, a great mess of bushy white, and his ears turned to upright points as well. Dusty scoffed. He thought himself to look oddly noble in this shape, and found that the idea of such a thing did not suit him at all.

His vital energy was spent, and there would be no changing back for a while. The sensation was like being out of Power Points for a Move. A pity. But it wouldn't stop him from going about his day as normal. Change was a fact of life for a Pokémon, after all! He may be depleted of evolutionary energy, but there was one part of him that was raring to go, a glance beneath his body granting him sight of a swinging knotty length. Not bad. His cock was still incomparable to a Human, but seemed to be slightly bigger – no longer the third length of Olin and barely enough to fill his hand, but now more like half. It was almost a pity that all his maleness was for was painting his own chest with liquid submission.

Yes, that was his place. No matter what form he took, he was a Human owned cocksleeve, his muzzle and his undertail trained well for the Master that they were so devoted to. Pokémon came hard, quickly, and often. And there was no greater satisfaction than being mated by his Human until every last drop of his own masculinity had been well and truly fucked out of him. Each hefty climax of superior Human essence inside him told him that Olin owned him. The submission was addicting, the surrender of all agency to his Master, the sensation of being so absolutely possessed. And when he wore their scent in his fur, other Pokémon was senses as acute as his own would know it as well.

Dusty swallowed, his own canine cock drooling a string of precum as his thoughts ran away with him. He knew what he was for. Warrior first and foremost. But this duty of service was a close second. He pulled aside the blanket to eye his prize, the large Human groaning slightly as the roughness of that action threatened to wake him already. Well, he wouldn't stay sleeping for long anyway. Dusty positioned himself to the side of his Master, and as he drew closer to the familiar maleness before him, an intake of air brought with it a new clarity. In this more canine shape, his canine senses were sharpened, the scent of the cock that he was so devoted to immediately overwhelming him.

His own maleness throbbed. Fuck. What was happening to him? Was he about to cum just from the scent of his Master? He leaned in, drawing another deep breath and taking in that familiar musk. Dusty shuddered. Yes. He should be able to cum just from this. He should be striving for it, in fact. Would that not be absolute proof of his surrender? It would show that he was such a devoted faggot, an obedient supplicant to this superior Human cock, that just the presence of his Master was sufficient to make him climax.

He pressed close, his nose touching their large orbs, grown larger still after his encounter with Primarina, Dusty's small tongue extending to drag along their length. This was the masculinity of a real male. His male. His Master. It was Olin's right to take him forcibly, to control him, to degrade and diminish him into that place of comfortable submission which was so fulfilling to occupy. He moaned softly, his hindlimbs rubbing together in need. This is the cock that had made him a bitch. A needy slut that had become truly addicted to superior Human masculinity.

One more intake of breath was enough. His knotted cock throbbed and surrendered a hefty cumshot onto the sheets below. His throat warbled, his changed self moaning an unfamiliar whine of submission. It was enough to awaken Olin, crotch well jostled by the needy Pokémon, their keening cry banishing what remained of sleep from him.

He blinked. It was Dusty. He knew that in his heart, even if he looked completely different. Had he evolved? A lap at his maleness was sufficient for Olin to give a slight shrug. Just like the Pokémon, he chose not to sweat the small stuff. Why interrupt this moment with something that could be figured out on the other side of mating? His libido was enormous, and his body demanded satisfaction. But there was something which came first for Olin.

“Did you cum already? Just from nuzzling my cock?" He reached down and sank his fingers into the fur of their scruff, “Good Boy…" The affirmation made Dusty's legs weak and his tail flag high. Olin pulled him up into an embrace, holding the new body of his Lycanroc in his arms and learning their new configuration as the grateful canine pressed his face into his neck. The maleness of his Pokémon pressed against his abdomen, his own cock alongside it as proximity and arousal for the impending rut drove him to a similar state of need. There was always something so powerfully dominant about setting his larger masculinity against the inferior size of a male Pokémon, his Human mass double the size of the small knotted length sported by the canine.

It never failed to further feed that submissive instinct. Just as holding his length along the needy pussy of a female Pokémon had her body react and prepare to submit to a superior Human cock, to force a male Pokémon to acknowledge the comparison of mass would have them bow in the face of grander maleness. Dusty shuffled his hips, whimpering need into his Master's neck. He was a lesser male, a slut, a faggot, a whore, a Pokémon that had become addicted to that grander maleness beneath him. He was rolled onto his back, his quadrupedal limbs helpless in the air, the Human a smothering mass that contained him completely.

Olin leaned back, now with a good view of his submissive male, he placed a palm over Dusty's chest to keep him pinned down, the fingers of his free hand closing around their knotted cock. It seemed darker in colouration, more crimson than the pinkish-red they previously sported, with a more pronounced knot and a feral appearance. Larger as well, perhaps a little under the Human average, and only half the mass sported by Olin. It felt warm to the touch, slightly slick with the aftermath of an orgasm which still oozed from the tip, he slowly began to stroke their maleness.

Dusty squirmed. That was all he was capable of doing, pinned down by the forceful weight of his Master, his limbs skyward and unable to find purchase. Olin was toying with him, his own superior cock rested against his furred thigh, the mass of it a constant reminder of physical dominance, while Dusty's canine shaft throbbed with need. Olin stroked him slowly, “Good Boy…" He crooned, “I want you nice and worked up before I mate you properly…"

He was close already, his heart beating hard against his Master's hand, but just as he neared his climax, those stroking motions ceased, his almost-orgasm resulting only in a bead of precum which Olin used to further lubricate this masturbation. Dusty whined piteously, “Not yet." Olin had learned well how to demonstrate power over Pokémon, and while he wasn't quite adept enough to read their pleasure in every case, he knew his own three well enough to master their orgasms. There was a delight to sending them wild with need, and a raw sense of domination which came when he cast them into the ruin of satisfaction at the end.

A gradual squirming cooldown, and then another pumping motion to torment Dusty with the promise of pleasure which never reached its peak. The canine whine of need was a submissive whimper, and as he was worked to a third rise, Olin allowed that orgasm to come.

Dusty squirmed, his whine almost a howl, his every breath filled with the scent of his Master. That scent. Nothing could be allowed to cover it up. No scent could be permitted upon him but that which belonged to Olin. Even if he must sublimate his own! He lurched forward, past that grappling palm, and presented his open maw to his own spurting cock, striping his tongue with a heavy load and immediately gulping it down.

Fuck. Olin swallowed. That was a hell of a sight. He drew his hips level with his Lycanroc, placing his own cock alongside theirs as his thighs became a brace for their hindquarters. His hands found the stone spires of their collar, and he pulled Dusty over himself, until his nose pressed against his own canine length and his lips obediently parted to engulf it. Olin's cock rested alongside his muzzle, drooling precum into his mane of fur, “Good Boy." Those words really seemed to land these days, “Suck your own cock."

The command was humiliating, but the throb of that Human maleness across his muzzle made clear his Master's enjoyment of the show. He wasn't quite bendy enough to do this as a Midnight Lycanroc, but in this form had no trouble taking the entirety of his own cock between his jaws and nuzzling against the small orbs of his undercarriage. The taste of his own essence on his tongue was strangely muted, his own scent as well was disregarded, with every one of his senses focused only on the overwhelming presence of his Master.

His hips bucked, and Olin dragged his stone spikes to force his muzzle down his own length. Yes. It was up to his Master to decide the pace of this muzzle-fuck. Dusty squeezed shut his eyes in bliss, entirely at the mercy of the large Human. Yes. He was being used just the way that he wanted. Purely submissive and without agency, he surrendered himself to the rhythm of pleasure, overwhelmingly proud that this autofellatio invoked such a lewd expression on the face of his Master.

Orgasm came quickly, watery canine essence painting the back of his throat as Olin forced him to fully engulf his own cock with his muzzle when that peak of pleasure came. His undertail twitched with need. Giratina's wrath! He needed his Master to fuck him. He needed to be mated until every ounce of his own essence had vanished down his own throat. And his Master's… no, not inside him. He wanted it in his fur! He wanted to be completely consumed by that scent, to be overwhelmed by the masculinity that made his canine cock throb and his insides clench just thinking about.

Maybe this form was good for more than just speed.

He'd little time to dwell on his desire before it arrived in reality, his Master slicking his cock with his own abundance of precum and pressing the head of it beneath his tail. Ever since that encounter with Primarina, he had become so productive that even when mating with another male, artificial lubrication was something of an optional extra. It hurt. But it hurt in the way that Dusty liked. It was the claiming of what belonged to his Master, and the satisfaction of his body yielding to that enormous cock was a reward made all the greater when it was earned. How often would Olin have to mate with him before his insides were permanently moulded to the shape of his superior maleness? He couldn't wait to find out. Submissive enough already to cum at the inhalation of his master's scent – would not his shaping as a perfect hole for their pleasure be an even greater surrender?

An unfamiliar form, but a familiar sensation, the body of his Pokémon as hard as a Rock Type should be. Despite the change in configuration of limbs, Dusty remained as warm and inviting as always, their insides yielding to his maleness as he pressed forward, with Lycanroc hindquarters caught between his penetration and their own cock-sucking muzzle. Olin held those protruding neck spikes as purchase, dragging the Pokémon onto his cock while not allowing Dusty up from his own for a moment. The sight was one of crushing submission, the Midday Lycanroc forced into a mating press in which he was folded over himself, his small furred orbs twitching as the hilting of a superior cock bulged his abdomen and invoked another orgasm into his own throat.

Dusty moaned around his canine cock. His inner voice cried out, “Please, Master! More!" He willed the words into existence as futile whines unable to cross the barrier of language, muffled by his own choking length, “This is what I'm for! Fuck me until I'm spent!" He whined desperately, scarcely able to rock back his hips, “Use me! Mate with me! Until all that I can think about is you! Your scent! Your cock! You! You're all that I need in my head! Make me your submissive male! Make me your faggot! I'm your bitch! I'm a male, but I'm your bitch! Breed me! Breed me like a female!"

The sense of fullness was overwhelming, this mating press ensuring that there was enough pressure on his bitch-button for the pleasure of the slightest movement to be catastrophic. Dusty's mind was filled with the fog of surrender, his whine a feminine keening. He denied his own masculinity, a willing bitch for superior Human cock. His own canine shaft was nothing but an ornament, a plaything for the amusement of his Master, a point of pleasure that he could tease to make his submissive male squirm and whine. But ultimately, it was the place of a bitch to take cock and be grateful for it. And this whining faggot wanted nothing more than that.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!" He whined his affirmation as Olin began to rock his body against him, each rolling thrust demanding that he fuck his own throat to the rhythm that his Master set for them. An abundance of precum slicked his insides, and Olin snarled, the muscles of his arms bulging as he maintained this position of absolute dominance over the squirming Pokémon, “I'm your bitch, Master! Fuck my male-pussy! Cum in my fur! I want everyone to know that I belong to you! I want everyone to know that I'm your faggot, your slut, your owned Pokémon cumrag!"

He whined, every exhalation another desperate confession, “Please! More! I want to battle while I smell of you! I want to pin down some weakling whore that challenges us, force her to smell my mane, and torment her when it makes her pussy wet! I want to drag a male down by the throat and make him breathe you in until his cock leaks onto his chest!" His hips twitched upwards, “I want them all to be jealous! You're my mate! Mine!" Dusty growled, “Fuck as many Pokémon as you want, but you're mine! I'll share with the parasite and the whore, but that's it!"

Olin set a steady pace, crushing the canine beneath him as they sputtered their surrender into their own cock, “Fuck! I'm your best Pokémon! Females fuck for breeding! Those two spread their legs for you because their bodies think they can give you an egg, even if it's fucking impossible! I'm the only one that raises my tail for you just for submission! I surrender the hardest! I'm the strongest! I love you the most! I need you the most! Masteeerrrr!"

He bucked back violently enough for Olin to be dislodged at the moment of his orgasm, thick ropes of Human essence plastering the face of his Lycanroc, and a good deal more lost to the great brush of his tail. Dusty quivered and came again, his balls practically dry, but still with more of his own seed to deny touching him. The only scent he wanted on his body was that of his Master, and as he looked up at the Human with such submissive pride in his eyes at the moment of his marking, he knew that Olin had realised it as well.

His Master grabbed him and rolled the two of them over, lying back with his Pokémon in his arms, and a command on his lips, “Be a Good Boy and ride my cock." He reclined into the pillows, pointing his maleness upwards for his obedient bitch as they released their own dry maleness to look down at their dominant male.

“Yes! Master!" He was gracious in his obedience, bracing his forepaws on Olin's chest, leaning back onto his hindlegs and immediately engulfing that perfect cock. His gaze shot skywards and a throaty moan erupted from him. There was enough precum beneath his tail for the sound to be a truly lewd squelch as he impaled himself, the wetness of his fur a shlicking which made his ears twitch. Those seemed a bit more sensitive in this form as well.

His words would never break the language barrier, but unmuffled by his own cock, he now continued his wailing submission, his voice a litany of fantasies, “I'll show you I'm the strongest! I'm the best! I'll pin down the whore while you mate with her! I'll hold the parasite's legs spread while you dump a load into her too-small feline pussy! I hate females! I hate females, but I'll eat your cum out of their cunts and beg for more! I'll suck your cock while you make out with Lady! I'll pass a thick load of superior Human cum back and forth in a sloppy kiss with Vee! Anything you want, Master! All for you!"

It was awkward for a quadrupedal creature to ride a cock, and Olin had already learned this from his experiences with his Espeon. With limited ability to bounce in the hindlegs, he built a mountain of pillows behind himself, propping up his upper body enough for Dusty's forelimbs to find some purchase at his shoulders, and thrusting upwards himself to meet every drop. He had no idea what his Pokémon was saying, but some instinct interpreted their whines and whimpers to be something very attractive indeed.

A season ago, he'd never thought of Pokémon as sexual creatures, and now he reclined in his bed, basking in the feeling of raw domination, as a submissive Lycanroc rode his cock to a shuddering bitchgasm. And Olin loved every moment of it. He did nothing to hold back his own low moans, every exhalation an affirmation of the efforts of his Good Boy. His bitch had surrendered to him completely, his eyes full of devotion, his knotted cock straining as it slapped down onto his abdomen, an exotic but useless length between them, the sight of it flailing without purpose was further evidence of the surrender of Dusty as a male.

He snarled his order, “That's right… be a Good Boy and earn that Human cum. You got that first load on your fur just like you wanted. But this is going under your tail." Olin demanded, “Let Vee and Lady see it dripping out from inside you. It always makes them both so needy. Every time I fuck an orgasm into you, they both come to me later begging for their turn."

Of course. It was the right of his Master to provoke the lusts of his cocksleeve Pokémon, and Dusty would assist him in making sure that the parasite and the whore were sufficiently horny for when Olin decided to mate with them. He'd tease them all day if that is what his Master wanted! Since they couldn't fight, the least they could do is learn how to serve the pleasure of the Human that owned them!

Olin indulged in his own hedonistic fantasies. It would be nice to have all three of his Pokémon together. A pity that Dusty seemed to have such an aversion to females, or he would have ensured that the Lycanroc was a more active participant. Then again, as he shared an Egg Group with Vee, that might be for the best. He growled slightly as Dusty squeezed on his cock. On second thought, the idea that all three of his Pokémon were so entirely sexually submissive to him alone was even more alluring.

They would do whatever he told them to.

He blinked. What an empowering thought. He could impale Dusty on his cock and demand that Vee lick the lesser male to orgasm, and she would do it with a smile on her face. Whatever debauchery he engaged in, so long as he kept the limits of his submissives in mind, he was the Master, and they would obey. Dusty didn't like to top. Well, there were plenty of ways that he could bottom! Maybe he would bind the Lycanroc again, just like their first time together, only this time he would have Vee and Lady assist in fucking the submissive canine beyond the limits of ruin?

Gardevoir would be disgusted. Arceus' shaft, though. He cursed inwardly. Whoever her Master ended up being, he was overwhelmingly jealous. He'd almost forgotten that lacy choker before she brought it up again, and now the image was so engrained in his mind that the fantasy of her was irresistible. He wished he could have her for himself. Make her happy. Make her feel safe. Loved.

And fuck her as hard as he was fucking his Lycanroc right now.

He swallowed, hoping beyond hope that she never saw that particular image in his mind. Well, it was discourteous to think of other people when you were mating anyway, and his attention quickly returned to the desperate male in his lap. Dusty was low on stamina, not only depleted by the awkwardness of the position for a quadrupedal creature, but by the vigour required for his transformation. A good thing that his Master was so gracious.

Olin wrapped his arms around the submissive male, taking a portion of Dusty's weight, “Keep moving your hips… I like a grateful cunt." His arms bulged as he lifted them, bucking upwards into their sloppy undertail, “Fuck – look at your spent cock. Still hard even though your balls are empty. That's how you know you're a real faggot. A proper slut that's not done even when he's out of cum. You're not finished until your Master has filled you up!"

The Lycanroc whined, another orgasm washing over him. His cock jolted, but nothing came of his climax, his furred orbs aching with desperate emptiness. His Master was right. He wasn't finished until the Human was. Dusty was a proud Warrior Pokémon! He would stave off the ruin of absolute abandonment of oneself to pleasure! He could marshal all of the power that he had, and he would ride that cock like a good boy – a good bitch – until he had earned that creampie! Lying on your back and expecting to be served pleasure was the domain of that parasite Espeon!

His moans became truly lascivious, the feminine edge now completely consuming those whines into helpless mewls of pure submission. Dusty rolled his hips frantically, meeting every upwards thrust of his Master with his grateful cunt, his undertail sloppy with need, and his useless cock entrapped between their bodies. This was it. This is what it meant to be owned completely. Surrender entirely. Absolute submission. Not just to be used, but to enable that use, to be grateful for it, devoted, loved.

Dusty buried his face into his Master's shoulder, inhaling the scent of their body, their sweat, their musk, the raw masculinity of a real male. The man that owned him. The person that he loved. His Master. Master. Master!

Olin snarled, his countenance leonine in the mane of golden hair, his Lycanroc bitch dragged down onto his cock as the sheer mass of his superior Human maleness served to seal up their undertail as perfectly as any knot. The bulge of his abdomen, that lewd bump, it increased in size as the Master unloaded himself entirely into his cocksleeve Pokémon. Dusty squirmed in his lap, tasting Human essence at the back of his throat, the sheer quantity of it forced under his tail a nonsensical flood. Arceus' ballsack! He loved it! This is what he was for!

His body collapsed against the Human, his own feeble orgasm an empty ruin which wiped his mind of any thoughts but those of this moment. The fullness was overwhelming, but Pokémon were durable creatures, and rather than discomfort, the feeling of being so claimed was one only of submissive joy. How long would that be dripping down his hindlegs for? So long as he wasn't returned to his Pokéball and cleansed, he would be leaving a trail of white in his wake all day.

The heaving embrace that guided pleasure, now became something gentle and intimate as Olin cuddled his Lycanroc. Light was filtering through the curtains as day broke – but the other two Pokémon of his home had already been awake for some time now.

At the doorway they shared a glance. Quite the litany of pleasures that Dusty had screamed into the dawn. And quite the catalogue more had been seen by Vee inside Olin's head.

The two females exchanged a look…

And got to plotting.

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: Firstly, an apology. This was supposed to be the Lucario chapter. Dusty was supposed to lose. That was the plan. But then when the Lycanroc was brought to his knees, he suddenly decided that he was an anime protagonist, and I completely lost control of the story. Just like when he elbowed his way into Olin's team, he defeated fate here as well. Damn it. Though, I guess there are some benefits. I really liked the idea from the comments of a voyeuristic Lucario that got off on other people's feelings - and with her own being suppressed for so long, there's a good opportunity here to really lean into this. I think we'll let her cook for a few chapters, watch Olin work, and enjoy herself a little. Your suggestions were great, and this will hopefully give them a bigger payoff - though a little further down the line than I intended. I did have fun, though. It was nice to write some combat in the format of a three round battle - and I was happy to bring back Samantha Bent, too. I hope that she's appropriately detestable in this appearance.

Special thanks to User Snakebussyorsnubussy for keeping up with Reynard. User WinterWolf87 for Vulpix Bro! User EWEW for the idea for Mewtwo (I really want to do this one! I just can't figure out what on earth his equipment is supposed to look like?). User NoNoNope for the idea of turning up the heat on Lucario! User AdvancedCBMaster for cheering on the slit play and taking care of the fire pupper. User DRLa again for the help on the Seviper chapter. User DeltaHopper for Flygon (He's on my hitlist - just a matter of time. I have a scenario in mind, it just depends when we get to it!) User Etnom1, I do love a tragic backstory! User Johnny1988 for Snek sex. And User Saxton for the supportive PMs, and the Kommo-o suggestion!

Thanks as always for every fave, vote, folder sub (80 now, yay!), watch, read - and most of all, comments. I just reached 1000 comments recieved! Huzzah! Your support has been fantastic, and I'm very grateful. The ideas for moving this story forward, the Pokemon picks, the kinks, and all sorts of other stuff are all spawned from what you write in the comments. Your kind words keep me going, and I can't thank you enough.

Next up, I need another female Pokemon as it looks like Lucario is on hold for a little bit so that she can develop in the background. I'm pretty keen on the idea of Kommo-o next (pitched by User Saxton), but not entirely set yet. Please add your suggestions for Pokemon, kinks, scenarios and more as usual in the comments! But most of all, my question this time is this...

I want to do an interlude chapter with Olin, Dusty, Lady, and Vee. The girls have put their heads together to come up with a plan, after all. So... what's their plan? If Olin has a day off with his three Pokémon, I'd like to hear your ideas on scenarios and other fun stuff for them to get up to!

Have a most excellent day.