FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The sun beat down on Leo’s skin. He surveyed the surrounding stone walls with a sense of grim satisfaction. Finally, he’d finished his pokemon ranger internship and was deemed ready of being given his first real job. What was more, he’d been honored by being given one of the most remote and prestigious positions for a new ranger: Vast Poni Canyon in his native Alola region.

Though he could have gone straight for the hardwood cabin that would serve as his home for the next several months, Leo decided to take things slow. He took his time wandering through the remote canyon, camping under the stars and making notes about the native population of pokemon from afar. Many rare pokemon, some of them dragons like the Dratini and Jangmo-o lines, called this area home, and were they disturbed, their wrath could be ferocious.

Though he gave them space, it was impossible to completely conceal his presence from the wild pokemon. They kept their distance, this area remote enough that most of them had never really encountered a human before save for the very small handful of trainers who tried their hands at Alola’s toughest trial. Many of the wild pokemon acted cagey around him, and more than once he had to back respectfully away from a Machoke or Kommo-o that decided to treat him to a threat display to remind him who was really in charge here. He didn’t begrudge them for it; in fact, the sheer wildness of the canyon’s inhabitants only made him more excited. Wild places like this were why the world needed rangers; increasingly, urbanization was threatening the wilderness and driving pokemon out of their ancestral homes. Places like Vast Poni—the last remaining refuges of true nature, unspoiled by human encroachment—needed to be preserved, as much for humans to remind themselves of the world that was their heritage as for the sake of the pokemon.

He made his way past stony tunnels used as dens; thundering cascades shimmering the air with spray; dry, brown-barked trees, their bare branches pointing towards the azure sky. The canyon was noble and all the more beautiful for its starkness.

Finally, though, Leo had to commit to actually setting up camp. The remote cabin that would be his home base, sheltered in a wooded glade, was several days’ trip from the canyon entrance. It had been hand-built over sixty years ago and used by generation after generation of rangers since.

He set in, chased the dust out, set new glass panes in the windows, and eased into a life of monitoring Vast Poni’s pokemon population. And perhaps that would have been it, if not for the strange clacking noise the floorboards had made one day while he was sweeping the cabin clean.

Investigation revealed that one floorboard had been sawn free and carefully replaced, leaving a hollow underneath. On prying it free, Leo found an old map of the canyon—decades at least—covered with hand-drawn notes. Some of them observed pokemon migrations or marked springs for fresh drinking water, but one note on the far reaches of the canyon caught his eye. In a seemingly ordinary locale, a command was scribbled with extreme harshness: UNMARKED CHASM. DO NOT EXPLORE—AVOID AT ALL COSTS!

Perhaps a normal person would have heeded the warning, but part of being a ranger was knowing when to shush your sense of self-preservation, so Leo packed up and made for the so-called chasm.

It was a three-day journey roughing it in the wilds, and when he arrived, he saw a small gap in the rocks barely big enough for a human to fit into. It hardly seemed noteworthy; why had one of his predecessors gotten so worked up over this? Shrugging, he shucked off his pack and jacket to provide himself with more maneuverability. Then, hitching his rope securely to a tree near the cavern’s mouth, he descended.

The interior was more spacious than he’d expected. The entrance was narrow, but the inside was a yawning chasm of darkness, overlaid with the distant sound of dripping water. When his feet touched securely on stone, the ranger pulled out a handlamp and lit the darkness. Immediately, he was greeted with a spread of ancient paintings peppering the wall. His breath left him. He’d known that there was an ancient altar in the canyon’s depths, but this was an archaeological trove like nothing he’d ever seen! The wall paintings depicted ancient Alolans standing side-by-side with pokemon; he saw Ribombee, Drampa, Araquanid. Center to the image was a mysterious, vaguely humanoid form which the Alolans appeared to be looking at with a mixture of awe and fear. Leo wondered what the entity could be.

He didn’t have too long to wait to find out.

The darkness spooling at the edge of his lamplight’s glow was not static; it was shifting, moving like mist, undulating about him. Leo turned his lamp to it and watched open-mouthed as the shadows congealed into a new shape.

The creature was dwarfish, about half as tall as a human with proportions to match; its arms, its body, its head were all mist incarnate, wispy and greyish-black. Vaporous trails drifted off its head and shoulders, forming a vague approximation of a helmet and cloak, and oval eyes burned red, like embers, in its flat face.

Leo recognized this creature from legends. Every Alola native had heard the stories at some point or another. The watcher of the night—Marshadow.

I thought it was just a legend, Leo thought, amazed. Was this cavern all that remained of an ancient temple where his people had worshipped the being? How marvelous!

Marshadow blinked a few times and opened its tiny mouth, releasing a microscopic yawn. It seemed he had disturbed the mythical pokemon from its rest. How long does a god sleep for, I wonder? Leo thought.

“Hello,” he said, hoping it understood him. “I’m a pokemon ranger. It’s my duty to safeguard this region. I didn’t know you were here, but I can—”

He cut off at the feeling of something unfamiliar prodding against his thigh. Glancing down, he saw that some of the darkness pooling around him had become a tendril of sorts, half-solid, which was poking experimentally at him. Turning his gaze back to Marshadow, Leo noticed the spectral pokemon standing with one arm outstretched. More tendrils of darkness began probing at him out of the blackness, winding their way about his wrists or poking at his shoes.

“H-Hey now,” Leo said. “Be careful, alright?” He actually didn’t have a partner pokemon—he relied on his own strength, plus tools like Repel, to keep himself safe. But everything was in his pack up above…

He didn’t think that Marshadow intended to hurt him. The pokemon was acting more curious than anything. But if it was half as powerful as his people’s legends said, then it might very well wreck him by accident.

Gently trying to shake off one of the tendrils, Leo gulped as it coiled around his wrist assertively, keeping him good and pinned. Other tendrils did much the same, and within seconds he was completely locked in, at Marshadow’s utmost mercy as the darkness coiled around his arms and legs. Some of the tendrils went even further, slithering up his pant legs or ducking down below his collar, and Leo started from the sensation. It felt like being touched by mist—mist made vaguely solid, cool and even sensuous, but devoid of water, leaving his skin chill but dry.

“What are you—” he began.

Marshadow immediately banished its form into a cloud of grey vapor that drifted over to him. The vapor partially re-formed, the creature’s head and upper body poking out of a formless bottom, and it poked him with one experimental hand.

The pokemon’s touch was firmer than the tendrils it commanded, but still oddly insubstantial, as if it wasn’t really there and was only tangible due to the creature’s will. Given its power, that might very well be the case, Leo thought.

It pawed at him, seemingly more curious than anything, small chirping coos emanating from its mouth. As it did, the tendrils continued entwining Leo’s body; soon they were drifting over his navel or cupping against the small of his back. Leo gave a start as he felt one of them grind between his asscheeks and poke experimentally at his hole.

“H-hey, hold on—w-wh, ahhhh, hnnnnnghhh—” The ranger’s voice cut off, his cheeks burning, as he was suddenly penetrated. The shadow tendrils were plunging inside of him, his ass suddenly full of cool, malleable mist.

The sensation was completely unexpected, and not just because he’d never done anything back there. Marshadow’s dark mist was formless, infinitely flexible; there was no real stretch or give, only a quiet pulsing pressure that somehow knew exactly how far to stretch him until he was dancing juuuuuuuuuust on the razor-edged precipice between lust and a sweet burning ache that radiated out into his whole body. The shadows pulsed and Leo moaned wordlessly as he felt the pressure grind against his prostate, the sensation making the quiet undercurrent of pleasure momentarily spike into a geyser of bliss.

More shadows wound around him, coiling tighter and tighter. He was firmly in the legend’s grip now; its glowing eyes bored inquisitively at him. Leo panted with every gentle push of the tendril in his ass, the darkness spiraling higher and higher. One of the tendrils began cupping his sack and squeezing his cock, making him moan even harder.

“Hh—hhahhhnn…” the ranger moaned inarticulately. The tendrils had effortlessly passed through his clothing now, winnowing their way through the spaces between his buttons and tucking underneath hemlines like naughty Ekans. One tendril snaked its way past his pectorals, caressing his firm, hard nipples along the way, then did the same to his collarbone. It poked out of his shirt collar, coiled almost lazily up his neck, and then—when his mouth was blissfully open with yet another luscious probe into his ass—it surged in.

“Mrrrrphhh… mmrrmmm…” Leo moaned. The misty sensation of Marshadow’s tendril speckled and snapped against his mouth, almost like soda pop; it was cool and overwhelming, the sensation like drinking water after chewing mint gum. The taste was like nothing he’d experienced before… it reminded him vaguely of some hard candy given to him by his grandfather in his youth, a muted and modest sweetness flavored with a note of molasses.

Despite his initial hesitations, Leo was in heaven. The tendrils lifted him up off the floor, one of them catching his lantern and setting it down gently when his insensate squirming made him drop it. He was… he was a young, athletic man in the prime of his physical condition, and now he was the toy of an ancient god of his people, which was even now surging into both his holes with tendrils of storm-grey vapor. He was being overwhelmed with sensation, the unreal taste and presence of the tendril in his mouth a counterpoint to the one that was still stroking his ass, filling him and wringing pulse after pulse of passionate bliss from his overworked prostate. And he loved every second of it.

His eyes fluttering, Leo was vaguely aware of Marshadow’s body fully reforming. The spectral pokemon picked up his lantern and walked to the edge of the chamber. It lifted the lamp, casting a new glow on other ancient paintings. Within them, the Alolans of old were offering themselves to Marshadow, and the images depicted the pokemon wreathing them in tendrils just as Leo was now. As the images progressed, they showed Marshadow putting things into the people, who then ripened out, swelling obscenely…

“Whhhhmmmmnnn?” Leo moaned around the tendril in his mouth. Despite its seeming insubstantiality, he was incapable of speaking around it. What does this mean? he meant to say. What are you doing?

Marshadow seemed not to care for his queries. After surveying the images for a moment, the little pokemon set the lantern down on the floor, its flickering light still illuminating the wall art. As it did so, more tendrils went to work, dexterously hiking themselves around his trousers and hemline and pulling everything down so that only his cock, still caressed and fondled by the shadows, was left.

Marshadow let loose a wordless coo, deceptive in how mild it was—yet the sound still filled the chamber. At its command, the shadows began seeping into Leo’s very flesh, and the ranger could feel his cock… changing.

The sensation was not unpleasant, though it was decidedly foreign. He moaned around the tendril in his mouth and clenched down on the one in his ass as the darkness began to stain his flesh. It started at the tip of his cock and down at the base of his balls; his skin began to change from its normal healthy brown to a mix of purple and umbral black, looking almost corrupted in its mien. The dark coloration spread, creeping up his balls and down the length of his shaft. Accompanying it was a change in sensation; an insensate, almost invisible spike in horniness and tactility that made his loins seem twice as sensitive as before. As the shadows continued fondling him, writhing around his firm cock and squeezing with delight, Leo hissed as he came from the sheer overwhelming carnality of it all. He saw to his amazement that his seed had seemingly thickened in viscosity and was colored a faint maroonish purple, rather than its usual color.

But this was not all that Marshadow had in store for him. As soon as the change was complete, his cock and sack thoroughly ‘corrupted,’ he moaned as they began to grow. The feeling of it was a low drumbeat, carried on by the diminishing aftermath of his orgasm. “Mmmmnnnmm,” he moaned incoherently. “Mrrrphll…” What… what was happening?

His balls swelled up at least twice their normal size, sitting big and proud in a massive sack, and his cock, which was deflating after his orgasm, grew in girth. Before long, his rod was nearly three times as long flaccid as it had formerly been erect. The weight of his new package tugged down at him.

As his eyes fluttered and he panted from the feeling, Marshadow padded over to him. The little pokemon poked experimentally at his balls and then, seemingly satisfied with what it found, it chirped decisively. It turned to the greater shadows ringing the room, which then parted, tendrils carrying out bountiful cargo.

A trio of eggs.

Leo’s eyes flickered from the wall art to his transformed junk to the eggs themselves. No way… Marshadow wasn’t going to do what he thought it was, right? There was just no way!

He groaned, trying to get the pokemon’s attention, but its eyes were fixated on his loins. It patted his thigh in an absent-minded gesture of easing tension. The tendrils were bringing the eggs closer and closer. They were noticeably smaller than usual pokemon eggs, probably only half again the size of a human fist—but still far from something Leo was confident would fit inside of him.

As the eggs approached, he wiggled his hips, not sure what he was going for—catching the pokemon’s attention? Showing his doubt? Whatever his intention, it didn’t work. A smaller tendril approached his junk, probing the tip of his cock almost shyly—and then, abruptly, it oozed its way in.

Eyes wide, Leo threw his head back with an inarticulate snort. He’d never tried sounding before, and the sensation was wild. He’d expected something like a sharp bite or pain, but the misty tendril seemed to act as its own natural lubricant, and it ever-so-slowly glided its way down. Rather than hurting, it instead felt delicate, also filling his cock with a feeling of stiffness and blockage.

For a long minute, the tiny tendril slid its way ever deeper into him, and Leo groaned as he felt his cock start to firm up again despite himself. There was an insane spike of pleasure as the tendril pushed up against his prostate, squeezing against it even as the one in his ass kneaded it from the other side, and he quickly realized another orgasm was looming.

But oddly, the tendril went even deeper, seeping into places Leo didn’t even know were there, until it settled down into his sack. He felt the distant mist curling about his balls, toying with them playfully. Seemingly satisfied, Marshadow chirped and an egg drifted along the trail of mist. Leo followed its progress wide-eyed. No way. There was no way.

The egg pressed against the tip of his erect cock, and a feeling of pressure whispered up against him—and then it slipped inside.

Leo nearly fainted. The incredible stretch, the sheer presence of the egg was impossible to deal with, and he was left flittering on the edge of consciousness. Glancing down, he marveled at the lump of the egg transferring its way through his corrupted cock, the bulge unreal. The egg went slow, tracing the same path of the earlier tendril which had sounded him, and with every millimeter it shoved into him, Leo danced along a path of sensation, threatening to be overwhelmed by the presence of the thing in him even as it radiated wave after wave of pleasure. It knocked against his prostate and he came again; amidst his jetting orgasm, colored spunk squirting out into the cavernous air, he felt the egg plop down into his sack, squatting snugly amidst his balls.

If he thought he’d felt heavy before, then that feeling had nothing on how he felt now. With even a mild shift of his hips, he felt the egg roll about inside of his sack, bumping up against his balls, and he shuddered from the tender sensation. Glancing down, he could see his sack was more swollen than ever, the egg visible as a hard lump pushing out of it. Vaguely, he wondered if this was the reason Marshadow had corrupted him. It didn’t seem like a normal human package would stand even the mildest chance of taking it in.

But of course, that was far from the umbral pokemon’s only egg. With a decisive trill, the pokemon summoned another of the trio and Leo’s eyes widened.

W-wait, he thought, not another one, th-there’s no way… But he had no way of communicating this to Marshadow. Even were the tendril not snugly occupying his mouth, his overconsuming sense of orgasm and the impossible presence of the egg squatting down in his sack would leave him thoroughly incapable of doing anything but moaning.

The second egg, just a touch bigger than the first, pressed against his sore tip and then began sli-i-i-i-i-ding its way in. Leo rocked against the shadowy constraints, feeling his earlier, corrupted spunk cooling against his thighs and lower tummy. The second egg was scarcely a third of the way into him and he already felt ready to faint. He’d vaguely hoped that he’d be able to handle the second better than the first, but the earlier sounding had left him tender and sensitive, and thus the second journey was even more stimulating than the first.

Orgasm built inside of him, knotting up like an invisible pressure behind his loins, and as Marshadow’s egg slipped further and further inside—fully occupying him, now; his discolored, corrupted cock swollen obscenely around it—it nudged against his prostate and that was all Leo needed to cum again. The ranger groaned helplessly as he sprayed his juice across the cavern; the orgasm crescendoing in him in time to the tendril still corkscrewing in his ass and the egg plopping down into his sack alongside the first, the two of them knocking jollily against each other and making his balls ache with tender pressure.

And then came the third egg.

His whole body shaking from orgasm, sore and sweaty, his cock swollen and discolored, his sack bulging with not one but two pokemon eggs nestled deep inside, Leo could only watch as Marshadow directed it to his cock.

It slipped in and Leo surrendered completely. No longer was he coherent of the cavern, the tendrils, the cooing voice of Marshadow itself; even the still-plunging tendrils in his mouth and ass faded to the back of his cognition. His cock was boss, the egg was boss, and he could do nothing but obey their whims and ride on a storm surge of orgasmic bliss as Marshadow’s egg settled in to incubate inside his manhood.

When Leo finally came to, Marshadow was gone, as were the shadows themselves. He was curled against the cavern floor. Rising shakily, he poked at his swollen, egg-laden sack and groaned. Fuck, it was so tight and heavy and tender…

His ass still ached beautifully from the fucking he’d received and almost without realizing it, Leo’s hand drifted down to his transformed cock. Despite the increased size, before long he was pumping away, grunting and groaning. He could feel his orgasm coming…

But a weight settled onto Leo and his eyes widened. He—he couldn’t cum. There was a tightness down there, almost a feeling of blue balls, as if the eggs were sapping his energy and ability to orgasm. Grunting, he kept pumping away, but he just couldn’t cum…

Finally, sweat coalescing into droplets on his brow, the ranger gave it up. He rose shakily, his legs feeling halfway to giving out, and he tenderly gathered his clothes. He eyed his trousers with some trepidation. There was no way he was going to fit into those as he currently was. Glancing down as his swollen package, he sighed and began ascending the rope. He didn’t know what he was going to do except go back to his cabin and… and what? Tell ranger command he’d encountered a legend which had knocked up his testicles?

He pulled himself up the rope, hand over hand, and with every swing of his arms his balls and cock swayed from side to side, sometimes knocking against the inside of his legs. Though the brushing was soft, the sensation made Leo want to faint for the tender mix of want and pleasure, and he sagged against the rope, a groan shouldering out of his mouth.

But he wasn’t a ranger for nothing. Steeling himself, he managed to hoist himself out of the cavern and then, with no companion pokemon and a big, corrupted, egg-laden nutsack with a cock to match, he began the laborious process of heading home.

The journey back naturally took longer than the going, his three-day venture there taking more than a week to go back. Thankfully, even if he went pantless, he could still wear his boots. He was able to forage for food and use a portable filter for drinking water, but when he got back to his cabin, he slumped face-down on his inviting bed and was asleep almost immediately.

Despite the seven-day journey to arrive home, Leo had still not grown accustomed to his new equipment. His modified cock was extra-sensitive to the touch and vaguely warm, and his balls bulbous and swollen for sharing space with the eggs. Both of them were tender and exuded a musk even heavier than normal. The sensation of it nibbled at him even in his dreams, and that was not all he dreamt of. A dark presence tickled at him in his sleep, making him feel tender and sore. He dreamed of yellow eyes peering at him from the darkness. He’d sometimes felt like he was being followed on his journey back, though his best snares had turned up nothing.

He woke moaning to find that the dream was real—shadow had coalesced into his room once more, forming the small shape of Marshadow. The little pokemon was poking experimentally at his sack.

“Hold—a-ah, h-hold… on…” Leo panted, the creature’s touch making his cheeks flush. “They’re s-so sensitive…”

Blinking, the pokemon looked up at him and then curled up against his ballsack as if it was a pillow, cooing softly and lavishing it with soft, paternal strokes. Leo leaned back with a ragged sigh. Oh fuck. That felt… that felt good.

“G-guess you’d want to take c-care of your offspring, huh,” he groaned. Fuck, that blue-ball feeling was back. He’d never managed to make himself cum on his journey back, not once!

At his words, Marshadow glanced up and chirped. Leo somehow got the sense of what it was conveying—the eggs weren’t the only thing it was safeguarding.

“You need to look after your—your offspring, and, um.” Leo swallowed, scarcely believing what he was saying. “Your… m-mate?”

Marshadow trilled assertively and cuddled appreciatively against his sack. A tendril of shadow reached out to cup soothingly under his chin. As he was cuddled by one of his peoples’ legends, his sack thoroughly swollen with eggs, Leo just leaned back, unable to sleep despite the weariness tugging at his eyelids. This was nothing like what he’d expected his rangership to be. Yet… he was going to hold off on reporting it. Another tendril wound around his upper arm before resting comfortingly in the crook of his shoulder, and Leo instantly knew that for the next segment of his life, Marshadow was absolutely calling the shots.

And despite everything, he didn’t think he minded one bit.