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Knock knock knock. Taylor Graysteel didn’t quite know what he was doing here - but then again, what else was new? He didn’t know what he was doing without a girlfriend, he didn’t know what he was doing without major job prospects, he didn’t know what he was doing in general aside from getting up and trudging through each day like he was pushing a boulder up a mountain. At least Sisyphus got a solid workout regimen out of the whole deal, y’know? But he was told that there was an odd job of some sort for him to do at this place, and he trusted the guy who sent him here, so why not, right? Besides, from the looks of it, the people who lived here would give him a solid payday. They were rich-rich, with a great big sprawling house that looked somewhere between a manor and a castle. It was stately, and more than a little imposing; Taylor felt weird standing at the doorstep wearing dingy old Caterpillar boots. It took a while for the door to open - longer than Taylor was usually willing to wait for someone to answer. But hey, this was a big enough house that it probably took time to get from one end to the other. Maybe he was caught up in something. Maybe he was just waking up. Or maybe he was just in the– “Hallo?” –shower… Standing in the doorway, tilting his head down at the human, was the biggest fucking Lucario Taylor had ever seen in his life. Hell, he was probably the biggest person he had ever seen in his life, regardless of species. Taylor was reasonably tall, standing about six feet and two inches, but in front of this guy he might as well have been a Hobbit. The Lucario easily stood over seven feet tall, maybe even closer to eight feet - and his thick, rounded musclegut body suggested he could shrug off a direct hit from a mortar shell. If Taylor had a tail, it would be firmly between his legs. And to top it all off, this Lucario was wearing nothing but a towel. He really was in the shower, from the looks of him, and only a white terry cloth towel wrapped around his waist kept him from nudity. It displayed his big, soft blue belly, as well as his plump, full mantits. And it also reminded Taylor that, despite being just out of the shower, he still smelled so fucking strong. It was the kind of overpowering masculine scent he had suffered through in various locker rooms, except in the locker rooms there were a dozen other men - this was coming from just one. “Excuse me? Are you there?” The Lucario’s voice, deep and rumbling and with something of an accent, snapped Taylor out of this state. He could only mumble, helplessly and only semi-coherently. “I…uh…was sent…job? For you?” Smooth. The big man thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Maybe you’re mistaken,” he said. “I didn’t ask for anything. But maybe someday…” He closed the door, and Taylor wondered why he felt so oddly disappointed. — But he wasn’t going to be disappointed for long. It was the strangest thing. From the looks of his house, this Lucario was rich - like, the kind of rich that made more money in a day than Taylor could in a lifetime. And his enormous, imposing frame and demeanor suggested that he wasn’t some spoiled heir to a massive fortune. Surely he had better things to do than follow some random guy he found on his doorstep one morning? And yet, no matter where Taylor went for the next couple of weeks, there he was. He would see him at least once a day, no matter what happened. He would be in line in front of him at the pharmacy. He would be sitting in the corner at the local bar, idly sipping on some drink that seemed much too small for his hand. One time, when Taylor had to visit someone’s house to fix the cable, he was sitting in the living room, checking his phone and occasionally glancing up. And every time, even long past the point where it could have been a coincidence, their conversation went the same way. “Well, now,” the Lucario would say, a small smile coming to his face. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.” Somehow, Taylor doubted that. But what was he going to do, accuse the guy built like an armored car of stalking him? He didn’t want to risk that, not even in public. So he would just smile, quickly and sheepishly, and say something like “yeah” or “no, that’s so funny, right?” “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were following me around. Maybe it’s silly.” He would shrug his huge shoulders and chuckle. “I hope you’ve been doing well?” “Uh, yeah! Yeah, I’ve been doing fine.” He hadn’t been, not really, especially since he may or may not have a billionaire stalker on his hands. But it wasn’t worth getting into it. “Well, that’s good to hear.” And every time, the Lucario would clap one huge hand down on Taylor’s shoulder, smiling fondly. “Hope to see you soon.” Then they’d go their separate ways again, and Taylor would wrestle with the question of what, exactly, this man was making him feel. It was something warm, something good - but what? Was the Lucario a father figure to him? Or was he–no, that couldn’t be. Taylor was straight. He didn’t know many things for certain in life, but his sexuality was one of them. He couldn’t have a crush on the Lucario. But then, how could he explain that warmth? That tingling in his nose? It was that smell - that ripe, ever-present smell, persistent but not overwhelming, like some expensive cologne. It was strongest whenever the big Pokemon lifted his arm, or when he bent over to pick something up. It was deep, rich, and complex, with notes of salt, musk, and body heat, and it lingered. The smell caught in Taylor’s throat, stuck in his mind, refused to leave him alone. Soon, it started to filter its way into his dreams. It would interrupt something about flying or a surprise math test, stopping Taylor in his tracks and making him sniff the air until he woke up. The more he met the Lucario, the more the smell appeared - and yet the Lucario himself was never seen in the dreams. He was always just out of view, just out of reach. Sometimes Taylor heard his voice, but he never saw him - he only smelled him. One night, Taylor had the closest glimpse of him yet. The human was ankle-deep in some kind of idyllic lake, mist from a small waterfall filling the air. It was night, and the sky was so deep that it looked almost purple reflected in the water. And there, silhouetted behind the waterfall, behind a curtain of mist - there he was, bathing, splashing himself with water, running his hands all up and down his body. With every second, the smell grew stronger: distant at first, then heavier, then so intense Taylor almost couldn’t see. It crowded out all of his other senses: he could only smell, and taste, and hunger. When Taylor woke up, his sheets were damp, and he felt faint. That was the day he decided to confront the big man. And, although he didn’t quite know it yet, it was the day that would forever alter the course of his life - and it started with a wet dream. — Knock knock knock. There wasn’t a wait this time. The door creaked open, and Taylor once again found himself staring up at the frighteningly tall Lucario who always seemed to lurk in his periphery. He was wearing more than a towel this time - in fact, he was wearing a pair of black slacks, having taken off his suit jacket to strip down to just an undershirt - but Taylor’s nose was already tingling, no matter how big he wanted to seem. “Can I help you?” That voice once again made Taylor feel like he was vibrating on the inside. Still, it was frustrating, the way he asked that question - as though he didn’t know what all this was about. “Maybe I oughta ask you,” Taylor said, his fists balling up at his side. “Because I’ve been all over town the past couple of weeks, and everywhere I go I’m seeing your fat blue ass following me. I get one or two times, that could just be a coincidence. But all this?” Taylor gestured with his hands. “I mean, come on! I’m not that interesting, am I?” “Yes,” the Lucario responded, simply. It took Taylor a couple of seconds to catch up with it. “Look, just tell me what you want and I–” Taylor stuttered for a second, blinking and looking upwards. “I…what?” “Yes, I do think you’re that interesting.” The big man stepped forward, and for some reason Taylor felt compelled not to step back. “I think you need something. I think there’s something you desperately, hopelessly need. Something that’s buried so deep, even you don’t realize what it is.” Another step forward, and the Lucario grunted, lowering himself into a crouch so that he could look Taylor in the eyes. “But I do.” Fwumpf. Before Taylor could open his mouth to say a word otherwise, a beefy blue arm reached forward, hooked around the human’s neck, and pulled him in close. There was a slight curl inwards, the Lucario’s hand gripping his wrist, and an arm pressing down hard. Heavy. Tight. Taylor’s face was smothered in another man’s armpit. And it fucking stank. “GMMMMMMRRRRGHHHH!” Taylor’s high-pitched, panicked squeal was muffled by the suffocating force of sweaty Lucario armpit, wrapped up in white cotton faded with sweat. That voice, deep and firm and commanding in the way only a good German accent could be, purred like a mighty motor. “Ssssshhh. Shhh. Shhh. Settle down, boy.” Boy? “Don’t fight it. You’re not going anywhere. Just breathe through your nose.” Taylor was already giving panicked, confused snorts into that armpit, but every inhale broke off into overwhelmed, disgusted coughs and chokes. Jesus fuck. It was pure sweat, pure fire, pure manstink. And it was mixed with just a hint of deodorant, which had all the effect of a drop of food coloring in the Atlantic Ocean. This was what he smelled like after deodorant. “That’s it. Breathe in. Breathe out.” Taylor started to feel his head going lighter and fuzzier. He had been caught by surprise. He was running out of air. His nostrils flared, he tried to snort up everything he could, but all he got was more humid, salty armpit. His face scrunched up, before relaxing again. His struggles started to cease. All the while, the Lucario just stood there on his doorstep, watching with some satisfaction as the kicking and flailing died down. “That’s it. Settle down. Settle down. It’s alright…” That voice grew warmer. Gentler. More reassuring. Taylor’s sinuses might have been blasted with pure pit stink, but he was starting to get the message. As he stopped kicking and approached the edge of passing out, he heard one more thing: “Daddy’s here.” — Taylor couldn’t see. Even when he opened his eyes, he felt his eyelashes tickle the cloth of a blindfold. If he squinted, he could make out vague silhouettes, but that was it. More important than sight was smell, and that was there in abundance: that now-familiar musk that would probably singe every last nose hair Taylor had, and this time it was in a much more concentrated area. Taylor felt dizzy again, but he was too alert at this point to pass back out. And anyway, he was curious - as strange and frightening as this situation was, he felt like he needed to be present for it. Or maybe that was just the fact that there wasn’t any way to block it all out. Joseph was bending over for something. Taylor could make out that much, at least - it wasn’t as though he could mistake the titanic figure of the Lucario for anything else. It occurred to Taylor that he should try moving his hands, but a cursory tug revealed what Taylor had suspected: he had been bound, hands behind the back of a chair. He wasn’t gagged, which meant he could have screamed or called for help, but something about the situation (and maybe the dizziness of having been choked out on armpit) made him not try it. He knew it wouldn’t do him much good, anyway. “Ah, I see you’re awake,” came that voice, and Taylor almost had the wind knocked out of him. Judging from the way Joseph’s voice rumbled and pulsed through Taylor’s body, it must have been a pretty small room. Even if Taylor hadn’t been tied down, the force of the acoustics might have been enough to keep him pinned to the chair all on its own. “Now, I don’t want you to be alarmed. I’ll tell you right away what’s going to happen.” Taylor’s heart started to beat a bit faster as Joseph started to talk: was it how deep his voice was? Or that soothing, fatherly cadence, lightly seasoned with a German accent? Either way, Taylor stayed quiet. “Right now, you’re in my bedroom. This is where Daddy Alistair and I sleep. You’re not allowed in here without permission, but right now permission is granted.” Taylor didn’t know who this Alistair was, or why Joseph insisted on calling him “Daddy”, but he continued listening. “You’re about to undergo…well, I suppose you could call it a test. Or perhaps an onboarding process.” Joseph chuckled, and Taylor could feel that voice getting closer. “I’m going to make you smell me, Taylor. Different parts of me, one at a time. Don’t worry if you don’t get it right on your first try - this is just to get you acquainted with my body.” Taylor’s mouth felt like it was going dry as he listened to this, and by the time Joseph’s lips were inches from his ear, murmuring and teasing, Taylor swallowed. “O…okay.” “No, no. The correct answer is ‘yes, Daddy Joseph.’ Do you understand, boy?” Every word, breathy and deep, made Taylor’s ear tickle. He had no choice. “Yes, Daddy Joseph…” “Good. Very, very good.” Daddy Joseph’s lips tickled Taylor’s ear, and the human felt a full-body shiver - from nerves or pleasure, he couldn’t say. “We’ll begin with something easy.” A moment’s pause, before Taylor felt a rough, somewhat grainy cloth pressed up against his face. “Sniff.” “Mmmrrf?” Generally speaking, when a strange man placed a cloth against your nose and told you to sniff, it would be wise not to listen. But Daddy Joseph cut through the uncertainty, albeit with a hint of irritation. “It’s not chloroform, boy. I already told you what we were doing.” With a sigh, he removed the cloth for another moment, before putting it back into place. “Sniff,” he repeated, and Taylor sniffed - before immediately coughing, his face screwing up behind his blindfold. He would have recognized that smell after a hundred years. The bright, pungent spice that hit the nose like a peppermint bomb; the deep, funky undertones that made it linger in the sinuses; the slightest hint of deodorant, as though it could do much of anything against the pure masculine force of that musk. After taking a moment to stop coughing, Taylor spoke up, his voice already a bit hoarse. “Uh…nnnf. Armpit…?” “Good boy.” Taylor felt something hot and warm and heavy wrapping itself around him, and he gave a muffled groan of protest before he realized what it was. Daddy Joseph was hugging him, and no matter how strange this situation was, it still felt good. He sat still in his bondage for a moment, letting the Lucario press himself against him, nuzzling and humming in his ear. “Now, I’m going to give you something of a…palate cleanser, for your nose. In most cases, these are ineffective, but since the differences between the parts of my body are so subtle, it’s necessary in this case.” Daddy Joseph explained things in such a calming, steady, matter-of-fact way - it almost made Taylor forget how bizarre this whole situation was. The human felt the rim of something glass - a jar, maybe - under his nose, and once again he heard Daddy Joseph’s order: “Sniff.” It was bright, tart, citrusy and refreshing. “Lemon concentrate,” the Lucario explained, before setting it aside. With another swipe, it was back to the cloth, and when the order came, Taylor took as deep a sniff as he could. “Nnnnghf…!” That heavy, lingering smell was still there, attacking his sinuses like some dense fog, but there was something else, too. It was a warm, tingly, intimate sort of smell, and it went deeper than just body odor. It wasn’t the kind you’d get a whiff of in the locker room - it was something you only got to sample if you were very, very close to the huge Lucario daddy. Of course, that still didn’t answer the question of just where on his body it was from, so Taylor threw out an impulsive guess. “Balls…?” Tsk, tsk, tsk. Daddy Joseph clucked his tongue, and Taylor could practically see him shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Not quite, boy. That was from Daddy’s cleavage.” Cleavage? What an odd choice of words - as though the Lucario thought of himself as having tits instead of just a chest. But the bound human couldn’t dwell on it, not with Daddy Joseph right on top of him. He stepped in closer, and Taylor could feel his presence looming. “Open your mouth.” Taylor opened his mouth without thinking, maybe out of obedience, maybe preparing to talk back to the big man - but in any case, he would soon wish he hadn’t. Snnnrrrkh. Ptuh! When Taylor felt something hot and wet splash into his open mouth, he realized what had happened immediately, but Daddy Joseph’s huge hand clapped over his mouth before he could do anything. “Swallow.” Taylor’s eyes were huge and pleading behind the blindfold, but Daddy Joseph repeated himself. “Swallow.” With a whine, Taylor obeyed; his face scrunched up from the slimy, alien sensation of Daddy Joseph’s spit sliding down his throat. It tasted salty and curiously sweet, not at all unpleasant; for some reason, that just made it feel even stranger. Such a sudden, degrading act made Taylor want to resist and fight back, and yet, when the lemon jar came back up to his nose, Taylor sniffed without having to be told. “Good boy,” Daddy Joseph said, his voice dropping down to that soothing, purring cadence again. “Now, are you ready for more?” Taylor wasn’t sure if he was ever going to be fully ready for what the Lucario had in mind, but he was as ready as he would ever be. He gave a woozy nod, and he waited for the cloth to be put back in place over his nose. Snnnnk– He could only get halfway through his sniff before he choked. In fact, he gagged, his face screwing up as he tried to keep his wits together. There was that spicy, earthy smell he was already so familiar with, but there was something…deeper. Funkier. Nastier. A disgusting thought lingered in the back of his mind, but Taylor was able to put it aside for the time being. He knew exactly what this was. “Your ass.” Another teasing, thrumming chuckle. “You got that one quickly, didn’t you?” Taylor didn’t know what to say to that, instead opting to give a low, queasy groan. “Oh, it’s not so bad, is it, boy?” Daddy Joseph stepped in closer, the Lucario once again wrapping his arms around the boy and pulling him in close. Taylor was pinned so thoroughly, and the body heat was so overwhelming, that he basically had no choice but to get a little flustered from it all. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen next, boy.” The Lucario purred in Taylor’s ear, his voice barely above a murmur. “I’m going to leave you right here in this room, right where you are, and I’m going to let you get even more familiar with my smell.” He stepped over towards the other side of the room, reaching into a basket and pulling something out. As soon as Daddy Joseph stepped in closer, Taylor’s nose picked up what he was holding, and shook his head. “No!” He was trying to sound firm rather than fussy, but Daddy Joseph just clucked his tongue and ignored him. He pulled what was in his hands over Taylor’s head, and the human immediately recognized it. He would have recognized it from the smell even if he didn’t know Daddy Joseph. Still, the Lucario explained it to him anyway. “That,” he said, “is a pair of Daddy’s briefs, fresh from the hamper.” He leaned in to inspect the pair. “Judging from the stains, this is the pair I wore to the gym last week. Now that was an eventful morning. But I’m sure you can tell just from smelling it.” That was an understatement: from the heavy, relentless intensity of the big man’s musk, Taylor was practically able to smell the entire day hour by hour, like rings on a tree stump - cardio, then weights, then sitting on someone’s face. They were thin enough that Taylor was able to breathe through them relatively easily, but every breath he took made him wonder if a regular old suffocation hood would be so bad. One more hug, one more dose of Daddy Joseph’s strong arms and dense body heat; then, the Lucario stood up, gently pecked his cheek through the underwear, and moved towards a door. Taylor gave a muffled “mmmmf!”, struggling against his bondage as he worried about being left alone; Daddy Joseph just smiled. “I’ll see you soon, boy.” And with that, he shut the door. — Taylor didn’t know how long he was kept in that room. He was blindfolded and hooded with Daddy Joseph’s underwear, and there were no windows in the small, stuffy room to shed light on the matter, no pun intended. He could only keep track of time through the arrival and departure of Daddy Joseph - or the other one. What was his name? Daddy Alistair, right. Sometimes he would be the one to make the thrice-daily visits, lifting up the underwear just enough to expose Taylor’s mouth before pushing a water bottle between his lips. He didn’t talk to Taylor, at least not yet; he wasn’t unkind, but he wasn’t as gentle or nurturing as his husband. As for Daddy Joseph, their meetings went the same way every time. He would enter the room, lift up the underwear hood to expose the lips, then tilt the water bottle up, giving soft, reassuring hums and purrs into Taylor’s ear as he drank. It was an uncanny experience, but after a few repetitions Taylor started to look forward to the intimate ritual - except for the last part. The first time he was given water, Taylor blurted something out in confusion when he heard Daddy Joseph head back towards the door. “Don’t I get food?” He could feel the Lucario’s eyes narrow and stare at him, even through the blindfold and hood, so he repeated himself. “Umm, don’t I get food, Daddy Joseph?” “That depends, little one,” came the smooth, even response. “Are you willing to suck on Daddy’s tits?” Even after the armpit smothering, the laundry room bondage, and the relentless musking, those words still hit Taylor like a brick. “What?!” was all he managed to sputter out, which didn’t seem to please Daddy Joseph. “Well, I suppose that will come with time.” As Taylor stammered and protested, the Lucario walked out of the room, not to return for what seemed like an entire day. It didn’t take long for Taylor’s stomach to start rumbling. He had managed to eat breakfast before coming over to confront the Lucario, so he had at least a little bit of sustenance at first. But soon enough, his belly was empty, and with nothing to do but sit around and sniff a pair of sweaty underwear, it soon became all he could think about. But whenever Daddy Joseph would pose the question after giving him his water - “are you ready to nurse on Daddy’s tits?” - some combination of disgust and pride would well up, and Taylor would refuse, only to regret his decision just a half-minute later. After what felt like three days, Taylor was at his wit’s end. His stomach gurgled and groaned and bucked in protest, endlessly reminding the human of how little power he had in this situation. Taylor was desperate enough to huff those old, damp briefs as hard as he could, just so the smell could hit him hard and take away his appetite. When he was at his most desperate, he even started gaming out whether it would be possible to eat Daddy Joseph’s underwear. That would solve two problems, after all, wouldn’t it? The fiber would normally be much too tough, and he’d have to manage a way to break it down into pieces, but with the amount of sweat it had soaked up, it might just be doable… …wait. Hold on, what the fuck? Taylor shook his head, hanging it in defeat and groaning. Am I really that fucking desperate? What the fuck is wrong with me? The next time the door opened, Taylor didn’t waste any time. “I’m ready.” It was the kind of admission that made him feel nauseous, but it was true. He was ready. But Daddy Joseph, fucking tease that he was, wouldn’t just leave it at that. “Is that right?” he purred, and Taylor could feel him - smell him - coming closer. “What are you ready for, boy? Tell Daddy.” Fuck, was he really about to make him say it? Taylor’s blush could almost be seen through the underwear hood. “I’m ready to…umm. I’m ready to nurse from you, Daddy Joseph.” The Lucario stepped in closer, and Taylor could feel his breath on his neck again. “Not quite,” he murmured, teasing. “I want you to repeat after me. OK, Taylor?” Without thinking, the human nodded, and the bigger man cleared his throat. “You’re going to say: ‘I want to drink the warm, sweet milk from Daddy Joseph’s fat, hairy mantitties.’” He flicked his tongue across his lips and chuckled as Taylor gave an involuntary moan, realizing that he would have to repeat…that. But when he thought about complaining a little louder, his thoughts were drowned out by the sound of his rumbling stomach. “I want…” Taylor grimaced behind his underwear hood. “I want to drink the sweet, warm milk–” “Warm, sweet milk. Try again, boy.” Daddy Joseph smiled, before Taylor’s hesitation made him lean in and put a bit more steel into his voice. “Say it.” A quiet gasp, before Taylor obeyed, as quickly as he could. He tried not to rush or stumble over his words, but his hunger and desperation was evident. “I want to drink the warm, sweet milk from Daddy Joseph’s fat, hairy mantitties.” There was a moment’s pause, and for a split second Taylor worried that this was all an elaborate prank, a way to get him to say something embarrassing before leaving him to starve. But then, there was the sound of Daddy Joseph’s shirt being pulled off, and Taylor’s heart leapt. Before he could even say something like “thank you,” a huge hand reached out and cupped the back of the human’s head, pulling him in until he felt his cheek plap against something soft, sweaty, bristly and hot. Rrrrrrip. With one gesture, Daddy Joseph tore away the underwear hood that by now had almost fused itself to Taylor’s face with a layer of sweat. The human gave a sudden, reflexive gasp for fresh air, only to remember where his face was. Still, though, this was a different, considerably more pleasant smell. It was warmer, more welcoming, more soothing. It made Taylor think about being small and swaddled in someone’s arms. Finally, the blindfold came off, and Taylor could see once again. Of course, he couldn’t see anything but blue: his face was inches away from Joseph’s right nipple, and when his eyelids fluttered he brushed against some of the Lucario’s wiry chest hair. It felt intentional on Daddy Joseph’s part: little boys didn’t get to see Daddy in full, not just yet. They only got to see the parts of him he wanted to show. But all Taylor needed to see was his nipple: a thick, firm nub, already hard, the tip beaded with a drop of milk in anticipation of what was to come. After three days, he could finally eat - why should he care how he got it? When Taylor suckled at first, it was out of desperation. Hunger. Need. He was only doing it because he absolutely had to. But then he heard Daddy Joseph give a soft, gratified moan, and he felt a warm, steady, velvety stream of sweet milk flowing into his mouth, not too heavy and not too light. He felt it pour down his throat, so quickly and smoothly that he hardly needed to make the effort to swallow. He felt it gather in his tummy (stomach? No, tummy), the gnawing emptiness inside him being soothed one drop at a time. And he tasted the rich, delicious cream, felt it coat his tongue, felt it seep into his mind and begin the long, gradual process of rewriting it. Then, his eyes fluttered shut, and he gave a blissful sigh through his nose. He didn’t wriggle in his bondage anymore. He didn’t even move. He just felt the warmth of Daddy Joseph’s fat, hairy mantit against his face, tasted the salty, tangy sweat on his chest, and made steady, docile suckling noises, almost cooing through his mouthful. “That’s it, little one…” Daddy Joseph’s voice sighed and crooned, and his hand rubbed up and down Taylor’s back. His smile was the picture of paternal pride. “That’s it…that’s it…that’s it…”