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LEGENDARY EXPECTATIONS

BY SOREN

1200 WORDS | 2ND PERSON AMBIGUOUS

M-POKÉMON/AMBIGUOUS HUMAN

MUSCLE | PAW | PAW WORSHIP | ROLE REVERSAL

Training a powerful pokémon is always difficult, tenfold so when said pokémon also has the gift of speech. When said pokémon has a strong personality on top of it all, a natural charisma complimenting its animal magnetism and natural physical superiority... then it's fair to say it's nearly impossible to perform one's functions as a pokémon master. At least in the conventional understanding of it.

That Zeraora you 'adopted', that you met in almost miraculous conditions, at first you considered him to be a godsend. A legendary that you miraculously had not only sighted, contacted, but also took under your wing. One that without a fight, accepted being a mighty ally to be trained by you, so that you two may overcome all odds, becoming undisputed champions of the region... and perhaps even beyond?... To think you'd have a legendary creature like that under your command like that...

Soon, however, you'd realize things were not going to be quite as you imagined. For instance, the 'under your command' part wasn't quite happening. On the contrary, Zeraora made sure to assert his independence from you. Pokéballs were, obviously, out of question. In combat, he didn't really take any orders, and in fact, he made sure you knew he didn't need them.

"Stop patronizing me, master."

"This is like squashing a caterpie~ Why would I need your help?"

"Just sit back and watch the spectacle, will ya?"

You soon stopped trying, as you stopped trying may things. Zeraora... he knew how to be assertive, you'd admit. That assertive, slightly cackling loud tone his voice had. The confident way he walked, acted, everything he did seemed to flaunt his powerful athletic body, which even as someone of a different species, you couldn't help but envy a bit. You'd admit... it left you impressed. Awestruck, even. Humble.

Is it bad to pamper your pokémon? Not really, you think. It's just that Zeraora seemed to take a huge liking for it. And he knew how to get his way. Food, vitamins, destinations, shameful as this sounds, you didn't really know how to say 'no', not when that legendary feline knew exactly which buttons to push..."Is that how you wanna treat your champion fighter, master?"

"Legendary pokémon deserve legendary treatment, yeah?"

"Isn't this the prize money I earn for you, master? Tsk, tsk..."

It was true. That legendary pokémon, one others would kill for, he fought for you, or rather he -wiped the floor- with others for you. He earned you recognition as well as a sizable income from battles. You felt compelled to reward him.

The way he said 'master' did get a rise out of you. It was patronizing, somewhat. Without respect or humbleness, as if saying 'Yes, you're my superior... but I'm still on top'. Frustrating. But also... flustering? You... you couldn't help it.

He was strong. Confident. You couldn't help but want to serve that exemplar of alphadom... you even learned to like the way he acted towards you. You were his master, but of a different kind. One that'd do everything for his pokémon, to the point where he had you at the palm of his large, feline hands...

And did Zeraora love grooming, too. Electrically charged as that fur was, it wasn't too hard to keep it under control. He couldn't get enough of the feel of the brush, though, the one thing that seemed to make that brazen, energetic creature relaxed. Relaxed, but not tame. Between satisfied purrs, his low growls urged "More~"... "Keep going!~"...

Amidst those sessions, you'd managed to steal a rub or two. You couldn't help it. And to your pleasure, you could confirm - that lyncean brawler had a body matching his power. The velvety skin was smooth, but the muscles beneath hard as a rock. You unconsciously licked your lips just from touching them.

In retrospect, it was dumb to think Zeraora didn't notice. Soon enough, when your fingers were shyly pretending to brush his bicep by accident, he commented, nonchalant: 'Like it, master?'. Your heart raced. Before you could even think of an answer, the pokémon raised his arm to the side, just beneath your eyes, and struck a slow, vigorous flex. 'Strong, ain't I?'

He giggled as your breathing got heavier. He knew you liked it, of course. "If you wanted to feel them so much, all you had to do was ask~" He punctuated with a provocative squeeze the momentarily striated his bulging arm.

It was humiliating at that point. You mumbled excuses, tried to explain this wasn't right. Of course, he dismissed them without ceremony. "You're my master. Masters take care of their pokémon. What, you don't wanna treat me well?"You stuttered trying to say nothing in particular. Zeraora shrugged, doing a teasing stretch that briefly flared his prodigious musculature. "Just a massage, is all I ask. Ain't that different from grooming, is it?"You gulped, agreeing with him. His argument was sound, though it disregarded how you felt doing it. How your body felt. Worst of all though, Zeraora seemed to know, and not care. More than that, he seemed to enjoy it. While your hand trailed under his lats, he tensed his pectorals. the feeling of his lower pecs ballooning and the lats flaring under your palm was unlike anything you ever dreamed of. You accidentally let out a weak, surrendering moan, and he smirked.

"You're a good massagist, master. Hey... my feet feel real sore."

Your eyes widened. No. Not this. Please.

"C'mooooon..." he tugged your shirt down, directing you to the floor. "It'll feel great~" And if that was not enough, his massive handpaw then pressed against the back of your head, tilting it downwards and making you look at his eager, wiggling toes down there. "I want it. Do it." Any willpower to resist this demand was long gone from you at that point, so you simply said... yes. Of course.

And of course, Zeraora merely waited, looking expectantly to you while standing in the same position. It was obvious you'd have to kneel down. You did so, and right away, your eyes met the waiting black toes of your pokémon. "Go ahead! C'mon, master! Stop dawdling~"

The things were obviously very unlike a regular foot. Characteristic of a strong feline, they were long and powerful. From heel to toe it was quite longer than 1 ft, and each of the three toes almost as large as all of yours together, tipped by sharp claws. In your unusually submissive position, they looked even bigger, almost overwhelmingly so.

Your dazed admiration was cut short when Zeraora lowered his paw suddenly, toes now hard pressed on your cheek as the front of his foot was shoved onto your face.

"I said. Stop dawdling. And rub them already. Master."

Nothing masked it anymore. You were Zeraora's master, but a master he had complete power over. One he could trample all over, push around, provoke. Moreover, your mastery stayed only in the title, as you were the one faithfully serving his every whim. Worst of all though, you were loving it. To hell with it then. Without shame, you grasped the big paw pressing against you, and started rubbing the soles with your thumb. As you did, you approached the middle toe with your lips.

*smooch*

Zeraora beamed a fangy grin, one that seemed less malicious than usual, and more... victorious. Content. At this point you were red as a tomato, peaked in fluster. But you didn't mind it anymore. Serving him felt so good, so natural, you could barely understand how you'd managed to resist it so long. And you could barely contain the excitement, as your hands trailed up and down Zeraora's arch, from imagining you'd be doing all this again, and again, for as long as that legendary creature wanted. You and him would agree that as his master, that's exactly what you should do.