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The roaring of a jubilant crowd. The hot lights shining down on his sweat-soaked body. The deep ache of burning exertion in his limbs, evidence of a fierce struggle against his defeated opponent. Dark Inferno loved it all, even if there was just one thing he loved even more.

The Incineroar stood tall and proud in the center of the ring, letting the Mienshao announcer hold one of his bulky arms aloft as he basked in the waves of cheering--and some jeering, but that was to be expected for a Heel like him--washing over him from the audience. He wide, toothy, smirking grin stretched his flushed cheeks, and his body heaved with every panting breath. Meanwhile, his opponent groaned while lying prone on the mat at the victorious Pokémon's feet. A scowl washed over Dark Inferno's face as he looked with faint disgust down at the defeated Poliwrath, and he jerked away from the announcer's grip with a dismissive huff before turning to stalk like the predator he was out of the ring. He could still hear the Mienshao's voice--a little shaky from the Incineroar's demeanor--still sounding out behind him as the announcer thanked the crowd for coming out and brought the show to an end.

That was right, it was all a show. Kayfabe. The Mienshao flinching away from the victorious Dark Inferno, the agonized moans Tidal Wave was letting out as he picked himself up from where the Incineroar put him, and even his glaring and scowling as he made his way backstage; it was all an act they put on for their audience's benefit. And even if Dark Inferno loved playing his role--seeing the awe and fear in the crowd's eyes as he beat down their 'heroes' one by one, building himself up as an unstoppable force of malevolent nature--there was still just one thing the Incineroar loved even more.

The noise backstage was almost as raucous as it was out in the ring. Fans screamed and cheered as they caught sight of their idols, and reports buzzed here and there like Combees to get interviews with each wrestler. Those that Dark Inferno passed quieted down, staring at the brooding Incineroar as the crowd parted around him. He kept his yellow eyes firmly ahead, ignoring the hushed murmuring of those he passed on his way to the Heel locker room; though when a group of fans pushed forward, shaky voices calling out for autographs, he deigned to give them some of his time with a haughty sniff.

Almost there. Just a few more moments.

"Inferno!"

The Incineroar let out a deep sigh, and the last fan of the bunch had his autograph book shoved back at him before the fire-type turned toward the source of that voice. A massive, chiseled Machamp was storming over to him through the crowd, his four hands balled into fists and the fire of righteous fury in his eyes. Dark Inferno crossed his arms over his chest, plastered a smirk onto his face, and waited for the other Pokémon to approach. "What, Hammer?"

"You! You fought dirty in that last match, I know it!" The other Pokémon who were watching as Hammer Hurricane confronted the villainous Dark Inferno drew back, gasping and chattering as the Machamp grabbed the front of the Incineroar's singlet and pulled him in close. "There's no way Tide would'a lost to you otherwise!"

Their faces were inches away from each other. The Machamp's heaving breath mingled with his own. The scent of fresh sweat surrounded them both; already dried on the bulky, musclebound Hammer Hurricane, and still soaking Dark Inferno's fur. The Incineroar stared right back into the other male's eyes for a long moment, breathing in slow and deep. Then he laughed, low and rumbling, and batted the Machamp's hand off of him. "He lost because he's weak. That's all there is to it."

Hammer's expression twisted, and for a moment it looked like the Machamp would punch Dark Inferno. "He ain't weak, and we're gonna prove it to you." Hammer drove his finger into the Incineroar's chest. "Sunday after next, he's gonna be ready for your dirty tricks. And I'm gonna be there to help him. We're finally gonna put the Inferno out, once and for all, together!"

The murmuring of the crowd at that declaration was stifled as Inferno let out a snorting laugh. "A two-on-one bout? Now who's fighting dirty?" He stepped forward, bumping his built chest against Hammer's. "Fine then, come at me with all you have. Show me that strength the two of you possess. Together." His voice twisted the word into a sneering mockery. "I'll be glad to crush it under my foot."

"You're gonna be the one under ours." The Machamp pressed forward, almost as if to push Dark Inferno back; however, the Incineroar stood his ground with nothing more than another huff. "This time two weeks from now, you're gonna be on your knees beggin' Tide for forgiveness. And I'm gonna be the one to put you there."

A smirk. A haughty laugh. One last push against the Machamp, and then Inferno turned his back on Hammer. "I look forward to seeing you try." With that he stalked away, leaving the fighting-type and the rest of the watching Pokémon behind. Sometime during his chat with the Machamp, the small group of his fans had disappeared; but that little detail sunk to the bottom of his mind, along with everything else. So close. Almost. It wasn't until the door of the Heel locker room swung closed behind him, shutting him away from the eyes of the fans and press, that Inferno let out the low, deep moan of arousal that had been roiling in his chest.

The smell of another male's body, thick and pungent. The feeling of sweaty muscles pressing against him. The flashing eyes and handsome faces and sheer masculinity of his fellow wrestlers, Heel and Face alike. That was what Inferno loved most; and he was grateful for the red coloring of his fur hiding his burning blush and the cup under his singlet keeping his throbbing erection contained, or both would have been obvious to everyone watching his and Hammer's confrontation.

Inferno's closed eyes allowed the scene to play back within his lust-fogged brain. Getting grabbed by the massive hunk of Machamp had been so hot; how much hotter would it have been for Hammer to push forward just a little more when their lips had been in danger of brushing together? To have those four hands ripping his singlet off and then touching him all over? To have their bare chests, stomachs, and crotches grinding and rubbing against each other, instead of being separated by twin layers of sweat-soaked lycra. And how hot would it be when he was in the ring with both Hurricane Hammer and Tidal Wave?

A purr rumbled in his chest as he thought about it. The three of them grappling together--his hands all over the two Faces, pulling their singlets off so he could rub the flexing muscles underneath, while theirs did the same with him--until they could pin him underfoot--take turns pinning him down and grinding their heels, soles, and toes in his face while the jeering crowd watched--and put him on his hands and knees. His snout shoved into Tide's crotch, that humid cloaca he'd felt grinding on him--and smelled, under the mingling scents of their exertion--throughout their bout rubbing its raunchy scent and flavor onto his nose and lips and tongue. Hammer behind him, getting ready to shove his pair of thick, sweaty Machamp cocks deep into his tender ass. He really would look forward to them making him beg; not for forgiveness, but to fuck him full and leave every inch of his insides stained with their cum.

Inferno groaned, feeling the tingling and itching under his tail as he rubbed his pulsing crotch through the cup under his singlet. He needed to blow a load, and bad; his fellow Heels knew to clear out before he got into the locker room, and so he should've had the place all to himself. He had a little something-something waiting in his locker, and his pick of dirty laundry to raid from the others' lockers. But when he opened his eyes, the Incineroar froze.

The locker room should've been empty, aside from him. So who the hell was that Quilladin perched on one of the benches, staring at him over the athletic cup that was pressed to the grass-type's twitching nose? And holy Arceus' shining ass, was that a dick or a tree trunk between the runt's legs?

"What the fuck?" The words slipped out, faint and breathless, but were enough to shatter the frozen moment between the pair of Pokémon.

The Quilladin yelped, and his paws darted down to cover himself; with no other option, all he could do was press the cup he was holding against his crotch to hide his shame. His nose quivered and trembled along with his lips as his face flushed. At last, he began to stammer out in a high, reedy voice. "I-I'm... I wasn't... I-I just..."

Inferno continued to stare at the little guy for a long moment, his mind reeling. Indecision locked his limbs in place for a long moment; and then, years of preserving kayfabe took over. There was a fan present. He had to keep up the act. The Incineroar finally drew himself up, crossing his arms over his chest and plastering a glowering expression on his face. He moved forward, slow like a predator stalking his prey, until he was looming over the smaller Pokémon. "What are you doing in here, kid? No one but wrestlers are allowed in the locker rooms."

"I-I..." The Quilladin stared at the ground, hunching over himself. "I-I was just... uh..."

The Incineroar blinked as recognition struck him. "Wait a minute, you're one of those guys." That round, pudgy body. That face, flushed and downcast as the larger Pokémon loomed over him. That faint, stuttering voice. The Quilladin sitting on the bench in front of him was part of the group of fans who had approached him for autographs before his confrontation with Hammer. But even so, he had to keep up appearances; Inferno let out a deep, heavy sigh, and kneeled down to get at eye-level with the runt. "Come on, kid. Dark Inferno asked you a question, so you'd better answer."

"I-I'm not a kid." The Quilladin peeked up at the Incineroar with a fearful gulp.

"'BO-sniffing perv' isn't much better."

The smaller Pokémon flinched at that. "P-please, don't report me, Inferno. I'll... I-I'll do anything." His smaller, pudgy body shivered. His cheeks grew even redder, if it were possible. And under the stolen cup--which, even as large as it was, still left plenty of the Quilladin's impressive erection exposed--the pulsing rod of flesh spat out a glob of precum as his hips bucked.

Inferno blinked. He stared. And despite himself, the Incinceroar was tempted. From what he could see--and what he'd glimpsed during that frozen moment when he'd stumbled in on the smaller Pokémon--the Quilladin was more than blessed in the cock department. It had to have been almost a foot long, and was just as fat as the rest of the runt; Inferno was pretty sure that erection was the thickest he'd ever seen. Those balls hanging underneath looked pretty full, too, and the larger Pokémon could only imagine the loads those things could pump out. And of course, in his position kneeling in front of the smaller male, he got a good whiff of the sweet, woody musk wafting from that package; not as sharp and pungent as the smell of his fellow wrestlers after a long, sweaty bout, but Inferno still enjoyed it more than he probably should.

Another sigh. A grunt. A swipe of his hand to tug the stolen athletic cup out of the Quilladin's grip; and a lot of effort to keep his eyes from locking onto that massive shaft as it was revealed in all its glory. Inferno swallowed down the drool that had gathered in his mouth. "How old are you, kid?"

"Twenty-two..."

"Wait, really?" Inferno's brow cocked upward. "And you still haven't evolved yet?"

"H-hey, lots of guys don't evolve until they're older! I-I'm just a late bloomer...!" The indignant huff and glare the Quilladin shot him almost would've been intimidating, if it didn't immediately crumple into another embarrassed, downcast simper. "Sorry. I-I'm stupid, just, please don't report me..."

Inferno glanced toward the locker room door. He stood up, shifting from foot to foot. After a moment of hesitation, he sat on the bench next to Quilladin and set a hand atop the grass-type's head; the smaller Pokémon gasped and froze, but the full-body shiver that rocked through him was accompanied by another pulse along the twitching length of his still-stiff erection. "Don't worry. It's not worth my time to report a weak kid like you."

"Y-yeah, I am weak. And s-stupid." The Quilladin hunched over himself once more. "I just saw that the locker room was empty, and couldn't stop myself. And with everyone watching you and Hammer, I thought it was a good opportunity..."

The Incineroar's massive paw began to stoke, slow and soft, even as he let out a contemptuous snort. "You should've known I still needed to come in to shower and change. What, thought you were slick enough to be in and out with a nice haul before I got here?"

The Quilladin whimpered. His thighs pressed together around his cock. He hugged himself, half-curling up into a defensive ball. "I... I kinda... wanted to..." The smaller male's voice dropped into a quiet mutter.

"Speak up."

"I kinda wanted to watch you." The grass-type buried his face in his paws as the floodgates opened, letting out a deluge of embarrassed babbling. "I-I was gonna hide so I could... you know... see you in the shower and all that. But I got distracted and h-horny sniffing Masked Mook's cup, and I just, I didn't, I'm sorry, I-"

"Alright, alright." The Incinerorar clenched his jaw, once more at a loss. When the Quilladin quieted down, Inferno began to consider what to do. He could send the runt out, and take care of himself once the smaller Pokémon was gone; the safest choice, all things considered. He could just act like the Quilladin wasn't there, and give his fan the show he wanted; he was ballsy enough to risk getting banned from the arena for it, after all. Or--and he knew how risky it would be, even if it was the most tempting of his options--he could see if the other male was serious about doing 'anything'.

He glanced to the smaller Pokémon, and saw the grass-type looking over at the cup still in his grip. Then the Incineroar took another long, appreciative look at what the little guy had between his legs. As he repressed the urge to moan and lick his lips, Inferno made his decision.

The Quilladin's eyes widened and he let out a little gasp when Inferno brought Mook's cup to his nose, and gave the heavily-stained fabric lining the inside a slow, deep sniff. The smaller male reached down to grasp his cock with a low moan as it throbbed at the sight; and when their eyes met, the Incineroar gave the grass-type a nod of encouragement. "Mmf... you have good taste." Another brief moment of hesitation before Inferno sprinted over the line. "Mook's dick smells really fucking good." Another deep sniff, letting the rich, raunchy smell of sweaty Pangoro taint, balls, and cock burn in his nostrils and settle in his lungs. "He's pretty hot, huh?"

"Y-yeah..." The Quilladin was blushing and staring as the Incineroar huffed his fellow Heel's dirty cup. The smaller Pokémon's paw gave his dribbling shaft the occasional squeeze. Then he blushed and murmured. "Not as hot as you, though."

Inferno laughed, and the Quilladin flinched; the runt seemed like he didn't realize he said that out loud. "That so, huh?" The Incineroar took one last sniff of the cup in his paw, and then handed it back over to the smaller Pokémon. He stood up, stretching with a low groan, and couldn't stop a wide grin spreading on his face as the runt stared. Then Inferno turned, letting his fingertips play up and down the bouncing, bulging muscles under his singlet. "What's your name, kid?"

It took a moment for the Quilladin to realize he'd been asked a question. Then he ducked his head, burying his nose and mouth in the sweat-and-smut-stained fabric lining the cup in his grip while peeking up at the Incineroar. His voice, shy and trembling, finally sounded out. "H-Hal."

"Well, Hal..." Inferno stretched again, and then pushed his singlet off of one shoulder and then the other. Making sure he had the Quilladin's attention, he began to peel the sweaty lycra off, baring himself to his fan. He groaned as it slid off his chest and down his hips, and then he lifted each foot in turn to pull the singlet off completely. After tossing it in the direction of his locker, he put a hand on the cup at his crotch and gave it a shake in Hal's direction. "I don't usually let people see my after-bout routine, but I guess if it's for a fan..."

A thrill ran down the Incineroar's spine as the Quilladin watched him stripping off. Staring at him. Ogling him. He loved it when other males looked at his body, whether it was the adoring gazes of the crowd or the occasional mutual peeks and glances in the locker room and showers. And whether it was the knowing smirk of a fellow Heel, or the fiery glare of one of his Face opponents hiding a few embers of attraction, or the wide eyes of the watching Quilladin following every sway of his hips and twitch of his musculature, showing himself off never failed to turn Inferno on.

"You like?"

"Y-yeah... I... really like." The Quilladin gasped and blushed when he realized that his hand had started stroking his erection of his its accord, but the Incineroar just rumbled with encouragement. "You're the hottest in the league, Inferno."

A haughty sniff as Inferno struck a pose "Damn right I am."

"And you're... uh...?" He looked to the cup in his grip. He looked to Inferno's own; the only thing hiding away the Incineroar's full nudity. He looked down at his cock, and then gave it a few pumps while watching the fire-type watch him jerk off.

"Gay?" Inferno smirked. "A BO-sniffing perv like you?" He turned, bending over--hiking his tail up high to give Hal a close-up view of his pert, firm, sculpted ass--while he jimmied a nearby locker open. "What do you think?"

There in the locker, sitting atop a folded-up singlet like a present, was another athletic cup. Massive; it had to be, for the Pokémon who wore it. Stained and rank all within the inner lining; just like that husky voice which had huffed into his ear that morning had promised it would be. Absolutely stinking of masculine virility; and as Inferno picked it up and brought it to his face, he pictured the virile package that had been tucked into it all day. Swinging between a pair of thick, red-scaled thighs. Growing plump as he watched the steaming water of the showers wash over and dribble off of it. Long, thick, and diamond-hard as it was offered to him with a burning glare and a bone rattling growl of lust. Inferno moaned, and winced in pain as his erection strained against the confines of his own cup.

"Oh fuck..." That husky murmur from behind lacked Crimson Tyrant's low, rumbling timbre, but was no less pleasant to the Incineroar's twitching ears. Inferno stood and turned to move back to the bench, plopping down next to the Quilladin as he continued breathing in his fellow Heel's cockstink. Hal shivered and moaned, dropping Mook's cup to the tiled floor, when Inferno's hand settled on his hunched back; the smaller male pressed against the larger, one hand reaching to settle on the Incineroar's thigh while his other pumped up and down his throbbing length. And when Inferno smirked and offered Hal a whiff of the cup he was enjoying, the Quilladin instead turned to poke his long, pink-tipped nose into the fire-type's armpit.

"Mmf. You like that?" Inferno groaned, long and low, and lifted that arm up to bare the sweat-soaked tuft underneath for Hal. He watched the smaller Pokémon snuffle and sniff him all over, enjoying his scent just as much as he was Tyrant's. "That's it, kid, huff my pits. And if you wanna touch me, then go right ahead." He ignored the pounding in his chest and the heat in his cheeks as he tipped a smirking wink to Hal. "Anything for my biggest fan." At last he set the cup in his hand aside, and instead reached between the Quilladin's thighs to cradle the other male's plump ballsack in his palm.

A groan. A huff. A blissful sigh. Hall seemed eager to take Inferno's offer, turning on the bench towards the larger Pokémon; both to give the Incineroar's massive hand better access to his pulsing package, and to reach over and cling to the other male. To rub his hands over Inferno's firm pecs and down his flat stomach. To grasp the edge of the Incineroar's own cup, and give it a shy tug. He pulled away from that sweaty, raunchy armpit to give Inferno a pleading look. "Can I...?"

The Incineroar hesitated. He glanced away, clenching his jaw; trying not to bite his lip, like he would when he was a smaller, weaker Torracat instead of the Dark Inferno. But he'd already crossed the line; and if it was for a fan, he couldn't see any point in not going further. "Go on."

Hal looked ready to squeal in glee. He pressed further against the Incineroar, both hands moving to undo the straps on either side of Inferno's athletic cup. And Inferno let the smaller Pokémon do as he pleased, lifting the hand he'd used to grope the Quilladin to his face. He took deep breaths of the scent staining his palm while Hal pulled his cup off to expose the Incineroar's own humid, dank, ripe package; and once more, Inferno had to resist the urge to pin the smaller male down and shove his muzzle into Hal's crotch to smell--and taste--that sweet, woody musk right from the source.

The Quilladin was dead silent. Inferno glanced down to the smaller Pokémon, and then followed Hal's staring gaze down to his own erection. Not all that small, but not long or thick either; definitely not as long or thick as the Quilladin's, and that fact turned the Incineroar on all the more. The fire-type's shaft rose up from the pouch of his sheath a modest four inches--five on a good day--to pulse and dribble into the crook of his thigh. The balls hanging between his thighs were good-sized, but not anything to write home about. All in all, he was pretty average, maybe a bit below.

"...Well?"

"Ah!" Hal blinked and flinched, and then tore his gaze away from the sight between Inferno's legs to meet the Incineroar's eyes. "Uh, s-sorry. It's just..." A sheepish grin. "It's not what I was, uh, expecting."

Inferno let out a contemptuous snort, but followed it with a slight smirk at the smaller Pokémon. "Well, we can't all be as hung as you."

Once more, Hal ducked his head and let out a soft, shy grunt at the Incineroar's praise. His paws rubbed over Inferno's hips, kneading and squeezing, and slowly moved closer to the exposed package. "Can I touch it?"

"No." When the Quilladin flinched and pulled away from Inferno like he was burned, the Incineroar heaved out a sigh and gave the smaller Pokémon a gentle pat on the head. "It's just, uh, I prefer other ways of getting off."

Hal blinked, and Inferno could see the question in the grass-type's eyes.

"...Listen, kid, I'm letting you in on some of Dark Inferno's real private secrets." His own hands moved to the smaller Pokémon's shoulders, pushing him upright. "You can't tell anyone what I've been telling you, or what I'm about to tell you. Alright?"

The Quilladin didn't hesitate before giving the larger Pokémon an eager nod. "Your secrets are safe with me, Mr. Inferno."

"Alright. I'm gonna hold you to that." A brief smile, quickly smothered under a glowering expression. A deep breath. Inferno turned on the bench, reaching towards his own locker, and opened it up. After a moment of rifling through it, he pulled out the something-something he'd been looking forward to using all day; at least, before his plans had been derailed and then changed by Hal sneaking into the locker room.

Something nice and big. Something with a pair of soft balls at the base, a girthy shaft lined with bumps and ridges, and a tapered head at the tip of its sizeable length. Something the smaller Pokémon recognized with a gasp of surprise as a dildo.

"No way." The Quilladin's voice was faint and breathy, and his eyes wide and staring. "You...?"

Inferno nodded, answering Hal's unspoken question in the affirmative. "Yeah, I'm... a bottom. Like, a hard bottom." This time, there was no hesitation as the fire-type divebombed over the line. "I love big, fat, sweaty and stinking cocks fucking me. I love bending over in the showers and begging all the other Heels for their dicks." Even as he crowed out the words, his voice shameless, he still watched the Quilladin's expression. "It's my one weakness, kid, and the Faces can't ever know about it: Dark Inferno's a fucking musk-huffing, cock-loving, cum-guzzling slut."

It wasn't exactly the truth. In his long career, only a few appreciative glances had gone further; and of those, so far only Crimson Tyrant had made blowing a load in the Incineroar's eager mouth or ass a regular thing. But as long as no one else found out, what was the harm in injecting his dirtiest, raunchiest fantasies about his fellow wrestlers into his persona?

"Oh man..." Hal trembled and gulped, and his erection throbbed as he pumped it. Slow, even strokes up and down the girthy shaft; rubbing his paw over the head on the upstroke, and then squeezing on the way down. "So... the others... f-fuck you?"

"Fuck yeah. And I love it." He set the dildo aside, and reached for Tyrant's athletic cup; another hit of the still-strong musk wafting from it made his own length jump and spurt onto his belly fur, and the Incineroar reached between his spread legs to slide a finger along his taint. So close. Just short of touching his pulsing, itching, sweaty hole and sliding deep inside. "Tyrant, Mook, Don Corvid... every one of them's gotten a piece of Inferno's ass." The Tyrantrum pinning him to the shower wall, humid breath in the Incineroar's ears as the dragon-type's monolithic erection ground into the fire-type's cleft. The Pangoro fucking his face, grinding Inferno's nose into the sweat-soaked tuft of pubic fur surrounding his fat package, and then hilting his length in the Incineroar's throat as he roared out his orgasm. The Honchkrow perched on the locker room benches, that crooning voice of his low and husky while Inferno ate out his dribbling cloaca. Similar thoughts and fantasies had swirled through Inferno's mind all day, gathering like a twisting spring in his gut that could only be snapped by shoving his dildo in his ass hard and deep.

And when he glanced over to Hal, he could tell the Quilladin was having similar thoughts. Looking him up and down while pumping his cock. Licking his lips and letting out hoarse, moaning huffs. Following the Incineroar's thick digit as it sank into the loose, puffy, black ring of the larger male's puckered hole. Sometime in between the Incineroar pulling out his dildo and panting out his dirty fantasies, the Quilladin had nabbed the larger Pokémon athletic cup and pressed it to his face. Sniffing. Snuffling. Breathing in the fire-type's spicy musk.

Inferno panted, smirked, and finally voiced the desire that had grown within him since he'd caught his first peek of Hal's cock. "You wanna fuck me?"

Hal froze, gulped, and looked up with an inferno of lust burning in his shy eyes. "Can I?"

"Fuck yeah. I want that big fucking dick of yours deep in me." He got off the bench, standing tall about proud for just a moment, and then fell to his knees in front of the Quilladin once more. Hal blushed and stammered, but didn't protest as the Incineroar tugged his paws away from his musky crotch. "Mm... so fucking big for such a little runt." Inferno pressed his face against it, feeling the pulse and throb of the flesh on his cheeks and lips; grinding his nose into the pouch at the base of Hal's erection, and letting his lips work against the velvety ballsack underneath. "It's so fucking hot."

"I-Inferno..." After a few moments, the Quilladin's hands settled atop the Incineroar's head. Inferno purred in encouragement, flicking his tongue out against Hal's shaft; reaching to hold it up so he could lick up and down its length. The smaller Pokémon's hips bucked, and the larger male let out deep, rumbling, submissive moans as Hal humped against his face. "If you... want me to f-fuck you..." The Quilladin gulped to wet his dry throat. "Bend over and... show me your ass."

"Gladly." A smirk. A wink. One last flick of his tongue against Hal's cocktip; Inferno savored the sweet, syrupy precum coating his tongue as he turned around and got on all fours. He then reached back, putting his front half down and hiking his rear end high in the air along with his tail, and spread himself wide open. The fire-type's hole, loose and pouty, winked at Hal from between his firm, red-furred asscheeks. Humid. Raunchy. Inviting. "Come on."

It took a little while to get into position; Hal jumped off the bench with a hungry moan and dived face-first into Inferno's ass, sniffing and snuffling about before lapping at the tender ring. But their difference in height reared its ugly head, and it didn't take long for them both to realize that the smaller Pokémon wouldn't be able to reach. And so Inferno rolled over onto his back, hooked his arms under his lifted legs at the knees, and pushed his hips up to present himself for the Quilladin. Hal was eager to move forward and lay himself atop the Incineroar, his belly grinding atop the larger Pokémon's balls and shaft while his own cocktip kissed the fire-type's dank, needy pucker. A brief push to pop through that grasping ring, and then the Quilladin was finally sliding into the Incineroar.

Deep. Deeper. Down to the hilt, Inferno's back passage opening up to welcome the smaller Pokémon's girthy length into it.

"Shit..." Inferno bucked his hips upward with a quiet groan. Hal wasn't as big as Tyrant was--then again, the Tyrantrum was in a weight class all his own--but the angle was just right for the Quilladin to grind against his sweet spot as the smaller male began to move in and out. "Don't hold back, kid. Give me every-fucking-thing you got."

"Alright." Hal nodded, panting and sweating already, and began to thrust faster. Harder. His balls smacked against the base of Inferno's lashing tail, sending a thrill up the Incineroar's spine every time the Quilladin pushed into him.

In and out. Again and again. The two began to raise a chorus of grunting and groaning that echoed in the locker room; Inferno was just grateful no one else was around. All the other Heels had already gone home, the janitors couldn't enter until everyone had left, and no one else was allowed into the locker rooms. They were alone with each other; and the Incineroar could be as much of a slutty, needy bottom bitch as he wanted.

As he cracked his pleasure-clenched eyes open to look up at Hal, he saw a similar loosening of the Quilladin's own timid demeanor. The grass-type was clenching his teeth, letting out the occasional--cute, Inferno had to admit--growl of pleasure. His thrusting grew rough and punishing, slamming his cock into the Incineroar's ass with lustful abandon. He surged down to bury his face in Inferno's fur-coated stomach; and there was no doubt in the larger Pokémon's mind that, if he were taller, Hal would either be motorboating his bouncing pecs out burying his nose in one of Inferno's dank armpits.

Faster. Harder. Groaning and panting and sweating and moaning and crying out in blissful pleasure. Their eyes met when Inferno reached down to stroke Hal's shoulders and back, and the smaller Pokémon glanced up at the larger male. Both could feel the sparking up and down their spines, and the spring-coils in their respective groins winding tighter and tighter.

"Fuck... fuck! I-Inferno, I can't... hold back...!"

"Do it, kid. Fucking blow in me."

"It's... hot... deep inside..." Something was off. Hal was panting and heaving harder than he should be. Sweating harder than he should be. Bucking and rutting like a 'mon possessed. "I can't... I can't!" He gritted his teeth. He clenched his eyes shut tight. He threw his head back, and roared out his orgasm.

Inferno didn't have any time to realize what was happening before the Quilladin's pudgy body flashed a blinding white. And then the grass-type began to grow; as did the length still rocking in and out of the Incineroar even as it pumped out spurt after spurt of hot, thick, sticky cum. Longer. Thicker. Pushing deep into him to stretch and fill up places that even Tyrant had never been able to reach. He couldn't move; he was pinned under the growing bulk of his evolving partner. He couldn't think; the tidal wave of sensations rushing through his body swept his mind under a roiling sea of pleasure. Inferno could only lay there on the floor and cum all over himself.

Panting. Moaning. Shifting and shuffling, and then a smooth, velvety voice sounding from above him. "Inferno...?"

The Incineroar's eyes cracked open, and he stared at the bulky Chesnaught looming over him. The fire-type was struck speechless at the sight; the small, pudgy, cute little runt had turned into a hunk. After a long moment, Inferno purred out a weak, husky, "Damn, kid..."

The two stayed pressed together as their afterglows faded. Then they pulled away from each other with careful tenderness, Hal sliding his--now massive and monolithic, even as it softened--cock out of Inferno's gaping, leaking hole; the Incineroar tried to clamp down around the sudden emptiness, but the flood of seed the grass-type had shot into him trickled through his overstretched ring with ease. After picking each other up--the Incineroar having to rest his weight on the Chesnaught as he waited for his knees to stop shaking beneath him--and making their best attempt to clean up--Inferno setting Tyrant's used athletic cup aside for later, while Hal tossed the Masked Mook's cup and Inferno's dildo back into their respective lockers--the pair staggered into the showers together.

"Shit... that was... fucking amazing." Inferno leaned with both hands on the tiled wall as the hot water poured over his exhausted body. He turned his head to look at the Chesnaught beside him, watching Hal scrub through his new, fluffier fur.

"Y-yeah." Hal gulped, and cast a shy glance in Inferno's direction. "Can we do it again sometime?"

"Oh yeah." Inferno smirked, winked, and reached over to give the Chesnaught's swollen package an appreciative rub. "I need this fat cock in me bad, kid. And I'm officially inviting you to be BO-sniffing pervs together after any match you come to." A chuckle, and then a low groan as a twinge of pain shot through his back passage; at least he'd have all of the following day to recover from getting rutted so hard.

"I'd like that." Hal smiled, ducked his head, and blushed. "And... maybe we could... get the others in on it, too?" His hand wandered down to his crotch, rubbing and squeezing his balls and pouch as he let out a rumbling hum. "Smell Mook's sweaty cock and ass together... huff Tyrant's pits... eat the Don's cloaca out..." His smile grew a little wider--soft and tender--as he gave Inferno a wink in return. "Maybe... us four taking turns fucking your sluthole?"

Inferno let out a sheepish laugh, even as his abused crotch throbbed; if Hal's cock hadn't just milked every drop of cum out of his prostate, the Incineroar would've been sporting another erection at the thought. "I know Tyrant at least would be up for that. Shit, you could probably give him a run for his money with that monster between your legs." He looked at it, taking in the sight of the Chesnaught's package with a lustful purr.

And then his expression shifted. He hummed in thought, giving Hal's entire body a slow, appreciative once-over. Big, thick, and strong; and the Incineroar could already see the beginnings of well-built muscles under the Chesnaught's soft fur. With a little work, Hal would be a perfect fit.

"Hey, kid? Er... Hal?"

"Yeah?"

Inferno grinned, wide and toothy. "You ever think about hopping in the ring?"

---

The roaring of a jubilant crowd. The hot lights shining down on his sweat-soaked body. The deep ache of burning exertion in his limbs, evidence of a fierce struggle against his defeated opponents. Dark Inferno loved it all, even if there was just one thing he loved even more.

He stood, tall and victorious, in the center of the ring. To his left, Tidal Wave was sprawled in a groaning heap on the mat; just as he had been two weeks before. To his right, Hurricane Hammer clung to the ropes, desperate just to keep himself on his feet. The two had come at him--Tide to avenge his shattered pride, and Hammer to help his companion take down the Dark Inferno--and still the Incineroar had won.

They were still too weak.

"I can't believe it, folks!" The Mienshao announcer looked on in horrified awe, too afraid to approach the panting fire-type. "Once again, the Dark Inferno stands victorious!" He turned to the crowd, voice rising into a fevered pitch. "Even two-on-one! Even with a type advantage! Can no one stop this monster!?" He looked around, expression almost pleading. "Is there no one who can stop Dark Inferno's reign of terror!?"

"Inferno!" The crowd was struck silent at the sound of that roar. Loud. Deep. Smooth and velvety, even in indignant rage. A spotlight fell on one of the entrances to the arena, highlighting the figure standing there. Large and bulky. Built and muscular. Glaring at the ring--at Inferno--as the crowd began to cheer at the appearance of the Chesnaught.

"Do my eyes deceive me? Is that who I think it is?" The Mienshao let out a roar of his own, the light of sweet hope breaking across his face. "It is! The Verdant Paladin has come to challenge Inferno!"

All eyes were on Paladin as the Chesnaught sauntered towards the ring. He climbed up, and took a moment to pick both Hammer and Tide up with a dashing, chivalrous smile. As the two nodded their thanks and hobbled away, leaning against and supporting each other, Paladin's expression dropped back into a stony glare. He turned, accepted the mic from the Mienshao, and pointed right at Dark Inferno. "That's right! I may be green..." He paused as a few titters echoed from the audience. "...but I can't stand by and watch this go on any longer!" A theatrical swipe of his arm. "Dark Inferno... tonight, right here and now, I'm going to put you down once and for all! In the name of all those you've shamed and humiliated, I will defeat you!"

Dark Inferno sneered, and then threw his head back to let out a roaring peal of laughter. "I'd like to see you try, whelp!"

"This is it, folks!" The Mienshao took the mic back from Paladin and scurried to the edge of the ring. "The Verdant Paladin's first and hardest solo bout of his career! Will the Hammer's successor be the one to finally snuff the Inferno out for good? Or will Dark Inferno claim yet another victim? Either way, this is gonna be a match to remember!"

Inferno dropped into a ready stance, giving a wide, toothy, predatory grin to the Verdant Paladin--to Hal--as the Chesnaught did the same. Under his mask of sneering contempt, the Incineroar was proud of the runt-turned-hunk; Hal was indeed a perfect fit for wrestling. He had the body, the attitude, and the love for showmanship, and Inferno was glad that everyone else had agreed. And while Hammer and Tide weren't all that pleased with the change of script, even they had to admit that getting taken down by a plucky, just young newbie was a far better fate for Dark Inferno than tainting their personas with a revenge plot. The crowd, too, was eating it up the tale of a fresh young fighter training under his hero, only to surpass him by taking down the most ruthless villain in the league. But even if he loved putting on a show--especially with his protégé--there was still just one thing the Incineroar loved even more.

The sight of the handsome Chesnaught grinning at him, hunching down and ready to lunge forward. Their bodies crashing together, muscular and sweaty and separated only by a thin layer of lycra. And of course, the knowledge that--win or lose--he'd get that big, fat, virile cock bulging out the crotch of Paladin's singlet sooner or later; along with a kiss and a nice, slow, tender blowie afterward.

That was what Inferno loved the most.