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Salazzle’s Honeyed Words

What would your Pokémon say about you?

The first time I saw you, I was with my brothers and Sisters.

The cave was filled with our Mother's pheromones and scent, keeping the males placated while we, the Females, thrived and grew bold and strong.

You… Entered this without a hint of fear. Or perhaps you wouldn’t know; you always acted like this, bold and careless.

You had that Poké Ball in your hand while my brothers slithered around, throwing themselves at you to protect us.

They cried, they raged, and they spat poison at you. Still, with your team during that time… You pushed them back. You defeated them and forced them to retreat. I could have followed you, but I was intrigued.

No. Amused by the vision of someone who would be foolish enough to enter our home.

Sure enough, I saw the sweat dripping from your cheeks and the exhaustion in your movements. A bad slip-up and you would tumble down like the other Pokémons whose bones had been cleaned up.

But you approached and pointed that Poké Ball at me. I did not resist it, and for what felt like agonizing hours in isolation, I didn’t know what was happening.

It wasn’t the dark of our damp home. It did not have my Mother’s scent. It was… Sterile. It did not feel like home; it only felt like I was forced to sleep through before you released me.

My first instinct was to lash out, as you know. Then, to ingratiate myself with you through my efforts.

Oh, I fought and trained for your praise. I ate what you prepared with diligence. I did not lash out; I acted prude and demure. At least, I pretended to.

I strove in secrecy to make you… Submit to my pheromones.

Much like my Mother did for her brothers, then her lovers, then her family; I would do the same to you. I refined my aroma to make it the most enthralling of perfumes, the most refined of flavors. You praised me… But you did not falter. Curious. Isn’t it?

I can manipulate my enemies on the field; I can turn other Pokémon against their trainers, or even confuse the trainers with a single blow of my perfume.

But not you. Never you. And I was chained to you; I thought I was done for. That all my life would be tied to you in a disappointing bond in which you wouldn’t know my desires.

The irony of the situation is that I never needed pheromones.

I never needed to train to the point of exhaustion. No… Once I was of age, my curves were enough to enthrall you.

What primal instinct drove you to admire my curves, to have your eyes dancing upon my pert breasts, over my pink markings that proved my fertility and my status as a Salazzle?

In that way, you are no different from the males, uncles, brothers, and sons.

I never needed pheromones to captivate your mind. I needed only a bait, something visual. Something physical.

You drew in my poison, my scent; you followed me.

Your attention, your care, became much obvious. The fingers dancing upon my curves, upon my posterior. The calloused digits explored my slim body, tracing much like the many markings that ran along my sides, my chest, my legs.

You explored them. You were shabby in your justifications: healthcare, curiosity, and mere interests. You spouted them all, though I took part in them.

I feigned ignorance, then indifference.

And far from pushing your fingers away, you were drawn closer like I was honey.

The more I starved you of affection, the more you craved.

The food you fed me became your own meals, then overpriced restaurant meals. Naked as I was, you became suddenly interested in providing me with custom-tailored clothes that made your peers raise their eyebrows. You offered me my own bed, my own comfort, allowing me to lavish in a comfort my Mother’s cave could not compare to.

And all for tokens of affection.

I allowed you to kiss my hand.

I allowed you to sing praises.

I allowed you to sit by me.

I allowed you… So little.

But you craved them, because, as pathetic as you are. You love me.

I am your goddess, sitting atop a throne. You cannot reach me on your own, so you create a monument to your pathetic love. Gifts and favors are the way you approach me.

You mocked those ‘simps, ’ but you are the greatest of all.

And on the day you gave me access to your account, breaking the unwritten rule about the Trainers’ distance from their Pokémons, I opened my legs.

I allowed you into my bed and to take me.

You took the bread crumb of affection I gave you that night. Of course, I moaned. But I was simulating it all. I encouraged you, said you were so good.

I had you fucking my pussy, felt that stiff cock into my sweet depths… Even now, even as I finger it to present it to another male, you are craving for the moist touch, for the velvety embrace only I can offer.

You were my first.

A disappointing first-timer. But that one time was enough to have you wrapped around my finger. You would never leave my side. Every little smile I had for you was another reason for you to bend forward.

You gave up your former house, your credit line, even your family heirlooms.

All that jewelry, all those clothes, all those plants you gave me… Oh, I appreciated the gift, but what I loved more was how… Pathetic, you were. How pathetic you are.

Even now, when I tell you that and you are following my lips, not even listening.

I am mocking you. I am insulting you. I am spitting in your face facts and insults, but you open that mouth and suck it.

Good trainer. Good pet. Good slave.

I could have thrown you away… Like I did for the other trainers I seduced before you, making a cuck out of you. But I can’t part ways with you, not yet.

Because I am curious.

You are the only one to resist my scent and pheromones, my pride.

Already, I have my sons who are at my beck and call. No brother, though, due to you. But my sons are already under my thumb.

Not you… Yet.

There will be a day when you will be under me. When your only thought between those pathetic ears is to follow my orders. But for now, I can agree with your lust.

With your pathetic and not big at all shaft that strains your pants when you look at my cunt.

What’s that? A trace of precum? Are you wetting your pants for me? For my cunt that is oozing with cum? For my belly that’s so round with eggs, can I rest on top of it?

Or is it because I won’t grant it to you?

Probably the latter.

The more you want, the more you crave, the more I refuse.

And now what? You are reduced to stealing from others, to stealing from your family, from everyone you know, so what? So you can have another turn with my cunt?

Sure, you can have a turn… My cunt is wide open and moist, ready to be taken.

It is a shame your pathetic seed can only produce males, sons. But I can do with that; my Daughters will need many brothers in their lives to protect them.

With all you gave me, I have enough to populate the entire region with my spawn… And when my Daughters will be fertile and ready, they’ll overtake the entire country.

All thanks to you and the many caves you bought them.

As for this home? It suits me.

It has all I need for my care while my sons come around, rubbing and massaging my so-sore belly. I could not have expected a place as perfect for a breeding ground.

Though… Again, there you are.

A shame, an insult, a pathetic excuse of a male. Your breeding quality is negligible. Your body is weak. And your mind? It is my toy.

So come toy…

You paid enough, you wasted your life enough. Take it in, smell my perfume. It is new; it is for you, so that you will stay under my heel.

It smells sweet and good? Yes, that’s right. Even you cannot resist it any longer; I can see the saliva dripping from your lips.

Is it sweeter around my cunt? Oh yes, that’s true.

My vulva is craving, and the smell there is the sweetest. You can taste it, go on, before I lay another of the hundred eggs inside me.

None is yours.

You cannot breed properly. You cannot fight for me. At least do it quickly. Breed me, give my Daughters a few more brothers to take as servants.

Feel my clenching vulva on your dick, feel the squeeze on your pathetic. And shoot. Please give me all. Give what you can to me and… Hrmph… Try to please me with that-hrngh, pathetic cock. Ok?