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“I just don’t know what to do, man,” Taylor said into his palms, head buried in his hands. He squatted on rubber turf, leaning back into the brick wall of a gym.

“You know I can’t understand you when you talk to your hands, right?”

Taylor scowled up at his friend Jeremiah. The other young man just smirked. Beside him stood a shorter charmeleon who gave Taylor a sympathetic frown. “At least Carmine cares about what happens to me.”

“Hey man, we both care about your little obstagoon problem,” Jeremiah said, to which Carmine echoed with a crooning growl. Hands in the pockets of the denim jacket he wore, Jeremiah squatted down. “You’ll get through this, alright?” He swung back onto his feet and fished a joint from his pocket. “Dropping him off at the daycare didn’t work?”

“No,” Taylor said, “He got violent when I tried to leave. He’s never had any separation anxiety before.”

“So he’s not looking to fuck, I guess,” Jeremiah said as he held the end of his blunt to Carmine’s lips. The shorter charmeleon lit it with a small puff of flame. “Thanks babe,” Jeremiah said before taking a hit.

Taylor stared past them across the turf where two trainers battled it out. It was a public fighting ground tucked between the local gym and a park that Taylor once frequented with Strypes before his linoone evolved into the monster that now lived in Taylor’s apartment. A smoking joint took up his vision, and Taylor blinked up at his friend. “What’s in it?” he asked—Jeremiah never just smoked plain weed.

“Dash of salazzle pheromones. Not enough to fuck you up, just make you feel perked up with the high.”

Taylor shoved it away. “I’m not trying to get high and horny when I’ve got Strypes to deal with.”

“Heh, you know that just makes you sound down bad, right?”

“I’m not down bad!” Taylor snapped, blushing a little. He sprung to his feet and shoved Jeremiah away. “Get that dumb smile off your face. I didn’t ask to hang out so we could get high. I need your help.”

Carmine jumped between the two boys, but did not get too protective. She’d known Taylor for almost as long as Jeremiah had. “It’s all good,” Jeremiah said, touching the top of the charmeleon’s horn. Carmine relaxed, and he offered his pokemon the blunt.

Taylor frowned as she took a hit. “Is there anything the two of you don’t share? You know her saliva—”

“Relax man, a bit of spit won’t make me start growing scales. Now, tell me about you and Strypes. What all have you tried?”

And Taylor ran through his last week of problem solving—his week tormented by an obstagoon that acted like a wild pokemon: fighting with Taylor not to be balled, masturbating inside the apartment to mark things with his scent, refusing to participate in trainer battles, refusing to leave Taylor alone, wanting to sleep in bed together, making inappropriate gestures towards his human owner…

By the time he finished, Carmine and Jeremiah had smoked most of their shared joint. They had strolled along the edges of the battle turf, stopping at an open bench and taking a seat there. Taylor on one end, Carmine huddled against Jeremiah on the other.

“—taking him to a breeder was my last resort. I thought he might be in season, but the daycare told me male obstagoon’s don’t go into rut unless something triggers it.”

“You sure you didn’t swim around in some vat of pheromones?”

“No! And our neighbors… there shouldn’t be a reason he’s acting like this. He’s marking my apartment like it’s a fucking burrow out in the wild.”

“Don’t have to tell me, dude. You already smell like he’s screwing you.”

Taylor blushed red enough to resemble the charmeleon half sitting in Jeremiah’s lap. “I can’t get his scent out of my clothes,” Taylor hissed. Strypes’ musk had permeated every inch of Taylor’s apartment like a chainsmoker who took all their cigarettes indoors.

Jeremiah snickered, hand idly stroking up and down Carmine’s back. “Alright, alright. I mean, are you worried about the cops getting called?”

“A little, yeah? What if one of the people I share my building with has hypopokegenic whatever—”

“HPS?”

“Yeah! And they file a complaint and we have to move out or Strypes gets taken from me by protective services because I can’t control him and he hurts someone—”

“Taylor, stop.”

He started out his panic spiral, seeing Jeremiah leaning forward, staring hard. His blood-shot eyes made it difficult to take him as seriously as his posture tried to be. “No one is taking Strypes from you. My cousin Lacey has an obstagoon, I’ll call her up and see what advice she can give.”

“Isn’t your cousin a pokefucker?”

“Equalist, bro, come on.”

Taylor rolled his eyes. “You really think she’s going to be able to help?”

Jeremiah shrugged. “She knows obstagoons better than you, dude, and I bet if she doesn’t know what to do she’ll know someone who does.”

“Alright, alright, ask her then.”

Jeremiah shifted so he could get into his pocket, Carmine protesting being moved. “I know, I’m sorry, babe.”

“Would you stop calling her that?”

Jeremiah frowned. “Scuse me?”

“Babe, she’s not your girlfriend, dude.”

Both pokemon and human sat up to their full height, glaring at Taylor. “Do you want my help or not?”

Taylor held out his hands. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry, okay? I’m stressed and shit, my best friend is fucking off the deep end—”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Jeremiah said.

“You know what I mean, man.”

“Tsk, you let me call Carmine whatever I want and I’ll drop it.”

Taylor shrugged. “Fine. Dropped.”

Carmine huffed and didn’t settle until Jeremiah pulled her back against him. With his other hand he thumbed through his contacts till he found his cousin, tapping the dial icon. He switched it to speaker phone and let it ring.

Taylor glanced around them as the phone dialed, fearing phantom eavesdroppers. No one lingered nearby, but other pedestrians were out walking the sidewalk that wrapped around the turf. A bus stop not far from them had people crowded at it. Taylor winced when Lacey picked up the phone:

“Hello?”

“Hey Lace, it’s your Jere bear, you got a sec?”

“Jeremiah!” Lacey squealed through the line. “How you been, cousin? You’ve not called me in a minute.”

“Yeah, I've been bad about keeping in touch. Doing good.”

“How’s Carmine? You two—”

“We’re better than ever,” Jeremiah said before quickly turning the subject, “Hey you remember my friend, Taylor? I got him on speaker here cause he’s got a problem with his obstagoon.”

“Awww, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s fine,” Taylor said before he snatched the phone from Jeremiah’s hand.

“What the heck man?”

“I’ll be back,” Taylor said as he got up and switched the phone off of speaker. He began pacing as he brought the phone to his ear and said, “It’s just us, Lacey. I’m… I, uh, really don’t know where to begin.”

Somewhere on the other side of the city, Taylor heard Lacey hum sympathetically and say, “Tell me everything, hun, and we’ll figure this out together.”

***

Taylor chewed on his finger while, in his other hand, he had his phone opened to the dexipedia page for obstagoon. Just like Lacey said, under mating habits read: “In cases of mating, obstagoons try to dominate their partner with their long tongue. The obstagoon who succeeds takes the dominant role in the relationship.”

Or as Lacey had said, “Kiss him hard and don’t let up till he relaxes in your grip. That will assert you as the boss.”

It still sounded insane to try. Nothing Taylor read online backed up this theory, but it was like Jeremiah had said, a little of Strypes’ spit couldn’t actually hurt him, right?

He stood outside his apartment door, trying to delay the inevitable. Even from outside his flat he smelled Strypes potent musk, and it had him flushed. It would be fine, he’d get Stypes under control and do a deep clean of his apartment and this whole thing could just be a nightmare they moved on from. He opened the door and covered his mouth, coughing into his palm as the smell of metallic-tinged cum and oily musk assaulted his sinuses. He resisted the urge to hold his breath, knowing it would not do any good and moved back to his bedroom where he’d left Strypes sleeping that morning.

A large, furry mass snored loudly on his bed. Strypes evolved into the upper limit of sizes for an obstagoon. He wasn’t much taller than the young man, but his presence always made Taylor feel like that muscular form towered over him. He bit his lip, face glowing red already at the thought of doing this. He’d never kissed anyone before, which was its own deep embarrassment, but he quickly told himself he wasn’t giving Strypes his first kiss. He did this to speak the obstagoon’s language, so he could save him. Strypes was his first pokemon—they grew up together, and Taylor would never give up on the most important person in his life.

Strypes had made Taylor’s bed a mess of cum stains and tufts of black, white, and grey fur. At first, he’d tried to clean things, but soon as he stripped the sheets to wash them Strypes had marked the mattress instead. The badger touched everything with that obscene cock, even Taylor. He’d wake up sweating in the middle of the night, pulled from the edge of the bed into Strypes hairy embrace with the pokemon’s sleeping erection prodding his back. What made all of it even more humiliating, was often Taylor woke with his own arousal. Strypes omnipresent musk made it difficult to think when at home—he couldn’t live like this. No human could.

Taylor unclenched his fists, realizing he’d just been standing at the foot of the bed, locked up by his own nerves. Strypes lay on his back, snoring with his tongue hanging out his mouth and his tapered cock peeking from its sheath. Taylor hesitated for a moment, his blush going all the way down to the collar of his tank top. He struggled to stop himself from admiring Strypes’ plump sheath. That tube of flesh had to be so big Taylor could fit his whole hand inside it, not to mention those balls the size of mangos. Strypes had gotten so big his foot-paws dangled off the bed.

He’d snuck some sedatives into Strypes’ breakfast, but those should have worn off, which made him scared to wake the big brute up. He carefully climbed onto bed. His hand immediately slipped in a slick of cum from the previous time Strypes masturbated. Taylor fell face first into the obstagoon’s sheath. He never came so close to that musk before. It made his eyes water, his knees wobble, and worst of all he felt his cock ache. The firm weight of the shaft inside the sheath yielded only a little to Taylor’s face, and the fur was soft and comforting. It made him long for when Strypes was a linoone and he would wrap around Taylor while the boy rested his head on that soft fur coat. He stayed still for a moment, inhaling his pokemon’s strong musk, the bitter masculine flavor so pungent he could almost taste it.

Strypes didn’t wake, but Taylor couldn’t help but notice the tent in his shorts when he got off his pokemon. Another reason Strypes needed to get under control. This… effect he had on Taylor was not something he wanted to last. Even if the few times he touched himself in his apartment since things got this way felt so… no—that was done just so he could think straight. He did not enjoy it or want to get off to that musk. It was just that Strypes’ scent had started to have an effect on his body in ways Taylor couldn’t predict or control. He just wanted things back to normal. Wanted Strypes back to normal.

He crawled up obstagoon’s front, still blushing and feeling his heart pounding in his ears. This already felt more nerve wracking than anything Taylor ever did. Strypes’ belly fur was soft and beneath it Taylor felt the firm muscle of his partner’s abs. Eventually his hands rested at the top of his obstagoon’s pecs, the muscle thick and defined, easily holding Taylor up while he straddled the big pokemon. Strypes still snored, a gentle growl inward and sigh outward that rose and fell with Taylor on his chest. The sharp canines of his pointed muzzle were exposed. His tongue spilled across the bed. It had always been long, but now it must have hung a good eight inches out his mouth.

For a moment, Taylor got lost in studying the soft fur of his pokemon. Finding the white and black coat handsome, the thick, mane-like mohawk inviting to run his hands through, his soft nose something Taylor wanted to affectionately brush with a thumb. Taylor loved Strypes more than anything else, he needed his best friend back. He’d do anything for it. Even if it meant going lightyears outside his comfort zone.

His hands clenched around thick tufts of chest fur and he tugged on it as he whispered, “Strypes… Strypes… come in, Strypes…”

The obstagoon’s chest rumbled as he stirred. The shock of red from his eyes caught Taylor’s gaze as they blinked open. Strypes yawned and looked up at the trembling human straddling his chest before a deep-throated, “Gooooon…” came out of his muzzle.

“I-I know we’ve been, um, fighting a lot lately and—” the badger sneezed and Taylor started, nearly falling backwards. Gasping, he grabbed his pokemon by the head and said, “Dammit Strypes this is for your own good!”

Taylor didn’t so much tug Strypes muzzle to him as pull his head further down until their lips met. Strypes eyes went wide when Taylor, desperate and shaking still, pushed his tongue against Strypes’ muzzle till that mouth opened and suddenly he tasted his partner’s palate. It was not as bad as Taylor thought. He expected it to be revolting, but honestly when he forgot to brush his teeth before bed his breath smelled worse in the mornings than Strypes’ did. Taylor managed to feel around Strypes’ canines and the tip of his tongue, Strypes having gone very still and filling Taylor with a strange sense of confidence.

Then the obstagoon’s sultry growl filled the room and his paws ran down Taylor’s back, embracing him, pulling him against Strypes’ fur while his tongue—Arceus his tongue. It filled Taylor’s whole mouth in a second, pushing the human’s back into his mouth before that long appendage slathered over his teeth, under and along his tongue. Then it pushed into Taylor’s throat. He coughed and gagged a little, but Strypes didn’t stop. Taylor’s eyes teared up and he squirmed helplessly in Strypes’ grip. Worst, he felt his dick aching in his shorts, rubbing against Strypes’ navel. He bucked his hips and whimpered. Taylor needed this to stop. His tongue had been pressed flat by the feral muscle now swabbing his throat.

Strypes’ no longer kissed him, but tilted his muzzle to the side with his mouth open. almost to make it look like he bit Taylor’s face. All so that tongue could go deeper, touch places Taylor never thought anyone would touch. He had stopped gagging, he kept trying to free himself from Strypes’ grip, but his pokemon was too strong, and the more he struggled the more he dry humped into his partner and why was he so hard?

He needed this to stop. Even if that meant giving in. He could try something else later. Taylor stopped struggling and, submissively, started to suck on Strypes’ tongue, his throat even swallowing around it. He felt a wash of hot breath as Strypes growled before he started to draw back. Relieved, Taylor sucked harder, almost as if he wanted to keep Strypes’ tongue inside him until it was freed from his mouth. The obstagoon leaned his head back to study Taylor. There was a brightness in his eyes that Taylor had not seen since Strypes’ evolution. The pokemon murred and licked Taylor’s face before nuzzling him. He laughed a little, relieved. He rubbed Strypes’ side the best he could, still pinned as he was, and said, “Strypes… thank goodness…”

Showing the ease of his new strength, Strypes flipped around his new partner before he sat up. Taylor suddenly found himself upside down in the obstagoon’s grip, whose now hard cock rubbed against Taylor’s face. The young man whined and tried to push away, but Strypes kept one thick arm wrapped around his waist while the other messed with Taylor’s shorts. The badger’s long claws sliced through cotton, starting at the waistband and working down a single leg. Split in half, Taylor’s shorts and boxers fell next to him in the bed.

It became all too clear what was being set up, and Taylor struggled and bucked in Strypes’ grasp. His cock, brushing against his partner’s fur, acted as an itching distraction, while Strypes’ erection smeared its oily sheath secretions against his face. The musky smell made Taylor lightheaded. Weak feeling. That towering shaft matched the striking red of Strypes’ eyes—sheath still wrapped round an unrevealed knot. Each beastly beat of his blood matched by a fresh fountain of precum that spilled over the cock’s spade-shaped glans, down the red-fleshed runway onto Taylor’s cheek.

All the fight leapt back into the boy when the cold snout of his pokemon buried into Taylor’s ass. His shapely but small butt was no match for the badger’s insistent muzzle. He yelped and kicked, but Strypes just squeezed him so tight it made it hard to breathe. Coughing, Taylor stopped and listened to his pokemon take a deep, huffing breath of the boy’s scent there before growling.

When that warm tongue lapped across his crack, a short, high moan fell out of his mouth before he shut it in shock. Strypes’ tongue felt really good there, in a spot Taylor never before explored. Another lick, this one firmer against his rim. Taylor gasped, liking that pressure and wiggling into it a little. He wanted Strypes to keep going—even if this was not what human and pokemon did together. Even if he never let someone touch him there. It felt good on that third lick and this time Taylor didn’t cut off his moan. Panting, blood rushing to his head, he wrapped his legs around his partner and buried his face in Strypes’ crotch fur. It was so embarrassing. He didn’t want anyone to see or hear him like this. He took a deep breath of Strypes’ handsome musk while the pokemon continued.

Handsome? Was… did Taylor think of Strypes as handsome? He was supposed to be a pokemon but—that tongue pressing back and forth against Taylor’s hole made him stop worrying about it. This felt good. It felt… warm, safe—even as that tongue finally wedged its way into his asshole. Pink flesh spread around pink muscle and Taylor’s mouth opened in a soundless groan, trying to dig his face deeper into Strypes’ fur, tears leaking. That slick muscle didn’t press very far into him before it teased back out. Strypes licked around his hole some more, lubing his rim, then tenderly kissed it. Taylor caught his breath but stayed tightly clenched to Strypes, unwilling to fight anymore but not sure what to do except stay close.

Fortunately, he didn’t need to think. Strypes’ tongue wriggled back inside him, spreading the ring of muscle more this time. Taylor sobbed a little, body quaking, dick throbbing against fur and leaking pre like he never had before. Strypes might have been able to push the whole tongue into him, but he didn’t. He worked at Taylor’s virginal walls with patient rumbles and growls, savoring the musky taste of his newly claimed mate. He made Taylor’s insides pliable, loose, slathering his muscle around, snaking it in and out and pushing more spit inside the boy. Taylor never had this fullness inside him—it crept into his core, a kind of satisfaction, a satiation. Strypes free paw rubbed down Taylor’s back affectionately while that tongue worked deeper and deeper, a pleasant numbness and sated itch answering around his anus until it reached a certain depth.

Taylor felt a pressure squeeze through the length of his shaft, almost like the beginning of an orgasm, and he moaned thinking he might, but he didn’t. The feeling faded as Strypes’ tongue withdrew then shoved back in against that spot. Taylor felt himself get rubbed in such a way it felt close to cumming. A near orgasm that made him struggle again. Not fighting to free himself, but fighting against a sensation masturbation never gave him. This pleasure a bit torturous as each strike on that nut made pre drip in thick, clear spurts onto Strypes’ fur. Taylor bucked his hips, rubbing his cock in that soft fur and firm chest would be enough to—

Then Strypes yanked his tongue out and the sudden absence made Taylor gasp. He whined and looked up, flustered as he asked, “Wh-what are you…?” but the look Strypes gave him made the question die in Taylor’s mouth. Strypes used his free paw to push his dick into Taylor’s face again, before the pokemon made a long licking motion in the air.

Taylor blinked and stared at his pokemon’s spire. There must have been a foot of it. It was clear what Strypes wanted him to do, and the boy suddenly hesitated again. He never once even thought of looking at dicks until this week when he didn’t seem able to escape from the sight of Strypes, who had seemed to take pleasure in masturbating whenever Taylor was around—sometimes curling around and using that long tongue to tug his cock into his muzzle. But Taylor already came this far… and if Strypes made him feel good, did Taylor have any right not to reciprocate?

He propped himself up with an elbow on Strypes’ thigh, studying that throbbing breeding organ. Its smelly musk had practically become a part of Taylor’s life at this point. It embarrassed him before, but he encountered other trainers who smelled funny because of their pokemon. They seemed fine. This would be fine. With his free hand Taylor reached for the shaft.

Squeezing it, that hot, warm flesh jerked in his palm. His hand couldn’t fully circle its girth. And for a moment, Taylor watched wide-eyed as pre leaked from the gaping urethra on its pointed tip. Swallowing the lump in his throat and feeling Strypes’ gaze on his flushed face, Taylor leaned in and kissed the base of the shaft. The cock-flesh was oily yet smooth, warm rubbed against his lips. He kissed it again and slid his lips over the tip, stopping at the glans before finally letting himself taste Strypes’ cock.

Taylor moaned, echoed by an encouraging growl from his partner.

The prick jerked a little again in his grip as he panted against it, trying to make sense of what Strypes’ tasted like. Like nothing else. A bit acrid, a bit bitter and salty, masculine and domineering. It filled Taylor with an aching need he didn’t even know his body carried. “F-fuck…” he rasped before licking the cock again. He felt hooked, addicted. Like the pleasure rushing through his body at servicing his pokemon was something he shouldn’t live without. His body became hazy, head glazed over by the musky pheromones on his partner, locking him in place there: worshipping that glorious, meaty shaft.

Strypes murred again and dug his snout back into Taylor’s ass.He squealed a little when that tongue burrowed back in him. It plugged away at Taylor’s rim with renewed abandon while Taylor matched its enthusiasm with his worship. He worked up and down the badger’s bestial cock, planting both hands on his partner’s thighs to push up so he could press his ass backwards into that probing tongue and get his lips—his lips—

Wrapping his lips around Strypes’ tapered tip felt right. Like Taylor belonged there. He mewled a little as he sucked his best friend’s—mate’s?—shaft. His jaw quickly opened wide as he could get it to sink down fully around that head. Drool spilled out his mouth and across that girth. Drool spilled out Strypes’ mouth and left glistening trails across his ass. The badger found his nut again and worked it hard and fast, the pressuring pleasure making Taylor’s cock fire shots of pre. Those glistening strings grew thicker, beads of cum squeezing out of Taylor’s cock, first drips of seed that turned into thicker spills into thick gouts shot into Strypes’ fur. Taylor clenched around that invading tongue, his back half shuddering while the badger worked out the largest load of Taylor’s life. Enough that by the time his balls stopped churning, it would have left a condom weighted and heavy instead of a spot of thickly matted fur on the obstagoon’s chest. Taylor knew all this happened, but it was background noise compared to the pleasure of his mate’s cock. That intoxicating pleasure now a fog over his mind. Why did he ever want to be Strypes’ trainer when he could be this? When they could have this relationship?

Knowing Taylor had properly submitted, Strypes turned over his new mate and pet, holding Taylor over his cock. Taylor leaned in and kissed Strypes before, panting, he begged, “Come on, Strypes… come on fuck me… fuck me please… Strypes—ah!”

That tapered cock piercing him cut Taylor off. He groaned and burrowed into his partner’s neck. His hands balled around Strypes’ thick, maney-mohawk as the obstagoon teased just his tip in and out the boy. Strypes seemed to understand the virgin’s inexperience, those walls clenching while Taylor whimpered, struggling with a burning pain and need. He needed that fullness again, like Strypes’ tongue but he knew it would be more. And he wanted so much more. Huffing, Strypes worked more of that greasy shaft inside his human. Taylor moaned, his cock still hard despite one orgasm already.

It was painful, but Taylor knew it temporary. Instinct, an instinct whose source he didn’t understand, told him to be patient with his body. To let Strypes force him open and force him to yield. Just as Taylor yielded to Strypes’ tongue. He longed to be hollowed out and tied by Strypes dick. Yearned for his obstagoon to breed him until seed took root in his belly. Bearing Strypes’ cubs now seemed the most important purpose his life could have.

Strypes leaned Taylor backwards so both panting, both mating, partners faced each other. The badger kissed him again, and this time Taylor wrapped his slender arms around his master. Hands brushing through that thick mane of fur while that tongue re-entered his mouth. Taylor tasted his weaker, earthier musk and shivered. Strypes rolled his hips, while tears went down his face as he sucked on that tongue—soon swallowed around it. The submissive gesture seemed to help the boy relax, and more and more of that cock quickly slid into him. The fullness inside him, that pressure against his nut, the burning spread of his rim—he already felt close to cumming again. And soon Taylor sat on the obstagoon’s entire cock. And soon he clenched his muscles, trying to milk it best he could even with bulge at his navel from that breeding organ.

Strypes drew his tongue back again. He nuzzled the tears on Taylor’s face, gently licking them up. An uncontrollable joy welled up in Taylor’s throat, and he rubbed his face back into Strypes’ muzzle. His voice was high and tight from the penetration as he said, “Arceus Strypes… you’re so big… fuck—but I want—mmph—to be like this with you… unf—forever.” The big pokemon cooed warmly in his ear and Taylor answered with, “You’re my best friend… I’m so happy we’re doing this.”

Strypes rumbled in agreement, the paws on Taylor’s side gripping him a little tighter. Those claws pricked through his shirt, but the badger was sure to be careful with his new mate. Taylor arched his back as Strypes’ lifted him off his cock, moaning rakishly before the badger tugged him back down.

Taylor saw stars. The roughness of being ploughed like that nearly knocked the wind out of him. It made his whole body ache with a pleasure that Strypes stoked and stoked, bouncing the eager human off his cock. Taylor felt something smacking against his ass, and knew it was Strypes’ knot. He tried his best to relax as that bulb of flesh caved in his rim. It felt like they would need to pry wide Taylor’s hips in order to fit it, Strypes simply persistently pounding Taylor’s ass. The badger’s tongue hung from his mouth while his pet struggled and thrashed in his grip. Overwhelmed by the fucking. The pressure of Strypes massive cock made it so Taylor couldn’t actually cum, he just stayed on a plateau as he was fucked until he screamed Strypes’ name. Neighbors above and below them could hear the loud, rough fucking, hear Taylor begging for the knot of a beast.

The pokemon snarled, and suddenly sat Taylor against Strypes’ balls. The burning split in his ass made him cry out, knot throbbing inside him. Entire shaft encased in his warm body. Taylor looked up in surprise when he heard Strypes whine. The big badger’s muzzle pressed to his lips again and that tongue into his mouth. The obstagoon flipped them over, still kissing Taylor while those impressive balls churned against his ass. He felt them squeeze together before that first heated rope of cum filled him. Taylor moaned around obstagoon’s tongue, sucking obediently on it as he received his mate’s seed.

Heat flooded Taylor’s core. A surge of spunk unlike anything Taylor saw from his mate in the prior week filled him. Seed, thick enough it would be difficult to swallow, quickly pressed down to the tie, which kept a firm seal inside Taylor. Soon his belly began to swell and distend, the skin drawing taught, but the blushing boy only noticed when he felt Strypes’ paws brush his stomach affectionately. The feeling of being filled left him with a strange, sleepy bliss where all he could do was suck on his master’s tongue, push his lips into that kiss, and keep his legs locked around the obstagoon’s hips.

Cum-heavy, swollen and warm, Taylor felt the flow of seed ebb. The warmth radiated through his body. His skin buzzed, and the pleasure drained him. He submitted it to it, only feeling the tongue withdraw from his mouth as he slipped into sleep. Strypes, still knotted to his mate, hugged him close.

If Taylor perhaps double-checked Lacey’s recommendations, he would have read warnings about a mating kiss. Of the pheromones the dominant obstagoon released, how they were nearly as strong as a female salazzle’s. Certainly it was incredibly addictive in the first few months of exposure, as an obstagoon shaped any human mate into a hybrid form that the pokemon could make eggs with.

Taylor would later wake and learn these things, but now it no longer mattered. In fact, he’d welcome it eagerly. The chance to wear his mate’s pheromones, to feel glossy fur bloom all over his flesh, his hips to widen, to be bred until he was just an egg-heavy slut. In some ways, he had tamed Strypes: his beloved badger would certainly do everything Taylor wanted from now on.