FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“Feraligatr, Water Gun!” Jamie grinned as his partner’s attack punched through the flimsy shells of the server racks, ruining the fragile electronics within. Whatever Team Rocket was using this place for, he would be putting a stop to it. He had learned of the hidden base from a grunt he’d interrogated before handing him over to the authorities, the threat of Feraligatr’s pearly white teeth providing an excellent incentive for the bastard to spill his guts.

Figuratively and, to Jamie’s disgust, literally as well.

He had, of course, anonymously tipped off the police about the hideout, but there was always a chance the Rockets learned they had been compromised before the boys in blue showed up, so he had taken it upon himself to bust into the place and make sure they wouldn’t have time to pack up and move elsewhere. Besides, wrecking the fuckers’ plans was cathartic for him – Rocket scum had stolen his little brother’s Sentret a few months back and he had a lot of anger to work out over it.

“Koffing, Sludge!”

“Strength.” Feraligatr ignored the acrid projectile even as it splattered across his chest and, with deceptive speed for such a bulky creature, spiked the Poison-type into the ground with a two-handed overhead hammer blow, knocking it out instantly. The Koffing’s trainer paled and made to retreat, only to be blown off his feet and knocked unconscious by a Water Gun. A low-power one of course, having a Pokémon kill a human who wasn’t an active threat was a real quick way to get a guy locked up for life, even if the ‘victim’ was the kind of human filth who willingly joined Team Rocket. “Hold up, buddy, let’s get an antidote in you.” Once the sticky sludge had been rinsed from his partner's scales and potential poisoning had been averted, the two continued further into the base, casually blowing through grunts and breaking anything that looked expensive.

Deeper and deeper they went, three floors beneath street level and with almost two dozen grunts left defeated in their wake. He was beginning to consider turning back and leaving the rest to the authorities, the winding hallways and constant battles wearing at both his concentration and his partner’s stamina. Surely he had done enough by now? Still, his stubborn pride goaded him onward, unwilling to let himself be defeated by mere Rockets, until he came upon a sturdy automatic door of red painted steel, a keypad beside it.

Whatever was in here was clearly worth protecting.

“Bust that door down, partner,” he ordered, and the muscled ‘gatr at his side stretched, breathed deep, and punched a pair of great dents into the door, which he then used as leverage to slide it open with great effort, huffing and panting in exertion. Jamie grinned at the sight – his friend’s immense strength never stopped being impressive no matter how many times he saw it demonstrated. He playfully slapped the Feraligatr’s shoulder. “Good job, buddy, as always. Let’s see what they’re hiding.”

“Fer!”

As it turned out, the room looked to be someone’s personal quarters, definitely a high-ranking member judging by the quality of the furnishings. Rich red carpet replacing cold metal flooring, a dark wooden desk with a high-end model of laptop, a wood-and-glass coffee table before a black leather sofa, sturdy bookshelves that looked to be meticulously organised – whomever inhabited this room had very expensive taste.

He would enjoy wrecking the place.

“So you’re the little rat who’s been causing all this trouble.” Trainer and Pokémon alike whipped around as if stung by the voice emerging from behind them. Just inside the doorway, blocking their exit, stood a tall, red-haired woman in the white uniform of an executive, arms crossed and Pokéball in hand. Her expression was stern, ruby eyes narrowed. She shook her head. “Disappointing.” A flick of her wrist, and her own Pokémon appeared in a flash of light, a Vileplume that shared its mistress’ demeanour. Jamie swallowed and took an involuntary step back. Of all the foes he could be trapped with, it had to be this executive and her Grass-type. The woman’s lip curled ever so slightly upward on seeing his reaction.

“Ice Fang!” he ordered quickly, hoping to seize the initiative.

“Flash and dodge, then Sleep Powder.” Feraligatr only shut his eyes for a second, but that was enough for the toxic flower to evade his frosty jaws and fire a puff of pollen from atop its head. His eyes began to flutter as he fought to stay awake. Jamie cursed and reached for his belt, drawing a second ball, and the executive’s eyes narrowed. “Now, Arbok.” Instantly, a purple blur shot out from behind the desk and coiled around him, crushing his arms against his body and preventing him from calling his next partner. A devious trap had been laid, and he had blundered right into it.

“Let me go, coward!” he demanded before the Arbok tightened its hold, hissing menacingly. The woman raised a brow.

“Now why would I do that? Finish it, Vileplume.”

“Vile!” Emerald tendrils extended from the Grass-type’s bloom and attached to Feraligatr’s body, pulsing rhythmically as they sucked away his energy. Soon enough the Giga Drain faded away and the unconscious reptile collapsed.

“A satisfactory performance.” Jamie struggled against his captor as the Rocket approached.

“You’d better let me go and get running,” he growled, “the cops’ll be here any minute.” The woman simply laughed.

“Is that why you were stupid enough to come down here alone? You thought the police would be coming after you?” she asked mockingly. “Idiot boy. We own the police.” She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket as she went, wiping it on Vileplume’s flower, coating it in fine green powder. “Deep breaths now.” The rag was pressed against his nose and mouth, and though he tried to resist, he could only hold his breath for so long before being forced to inhale a lungful of potent Sleep Powder that quickly left his limbs heavy as lead. Arbok released him, but he was out cold before his body hit the floor.

As his awareness faded back in, Jamie fought through the characteristic woolly feeling that came with Sleep Powder exposure to assess his situation. He was sitting up, tied to a solid, uncomfortable chair, in a bright room with a beige tiled floor and metal walls and ceiling. To his left was a wheeled surgical table atop which sat a syringe filled with an opaque purple fluid as well as a clear plastic mask fitted with black canisters, like some kind of gas mask shaped for a small Pokémon. Besides him, the room was empty. He tried to call for help, but ended up in a coughing fit, his throat dry and sore.

“Hello?” he managed to croak out on his second try.

“So you’re finally awake,” a chillingly familiar voice answered over a concealed intercom, causing dread to pool in his stomach. Not long after, the door slid open and the same woman who had captured him entered, heels clicking on the floor tiles. She looked down on him disdainfully, pulled a red card from her pocket, and read aloud: “Jamie Harris, age nineteen, registration number 81539.” She casually flicked his trainer card aside. “You’ve caused us a lot of trouble, Mr. Harris, and there was some disagreement regarding your fate.” She counted the options off on her fingers. “Petrel wanted to forcefeed you Grimer sludge and watch you die of sepsis. Proton suggested we use you as a patsy to pin one of our more unsavoury jobs on. Archer was even thinking about offering you a position in Team Rocket yourself, given your apparent skill.” For a brief moment a faint smile ghosted across her features, one that sent a shiver down his spine. “Fortunately, as the one who caught you, the ultimate decision was left with me.”

“Get on with it.”

“So impatient. Eager to know your punishment?” She was drawing it out, taking pleasure in his apprehension. “You went on quite the rampage through our Goldenrod hideout, destroyed a lot of expensive equipment. We keep offsite data backups, of course, but the servers, computers, and especially the sensitive lab equipment – all that hardware set us back more than seven million Poké.” Despite his situation, he grinned with satisfaction at the financial damage he had inflicted. “I wouldn’t look so smug if I were you, because you’re going to pay back all that money.” He laughed weakly through his pained throat.

“I’m a five-badge trainer and my dad’s a fucking janitor, you think I can pay you seven million Poké?”

“Of course not,” the woman waved dismissively. “Which is too bad for you, because that means you’ll have to earn us the money.” Something about the pleasure in her tone sent shudders down Jamie’s spine. “Do you know what our most lucrative endeavours are?” She did not wait for an answer. “Biotech research and the sale of rare Pokémon. You’re about to help us with both.” Carefully, almost reverently, she picked up the syringe, a cruel smile forming on her face. “Ditto cells,” she explained. “When injected into a wounded Pokémon, they naturally integrate with the host and form new tissue, effectively inducing rapid regeneration. Standard in any Pokémon Centre in the world. In humans, however, they cannot adapt to the host’s genes and are filtered by the kidneys before being harmlessly passed in urine. At least, that’s what happens with pure Ditto cells. Im pure cells are known to bind to, and alter, human cells, causing all kinds of nasty mutations as they divide and spread like a cancer. The result is disfigurement at best, a horrible death at worst. But our simulations suggest that if the contamination is carefully controlled and kept within very specific parameters… Well, if all goes well, you’re about to find out.” She stepped closer, and he began shuffling his chair, trying fruitlessly to get away. “Stay still!” lashing out with a kick, she booted him over onto his side, slamming his head hard into the floor and leaving him dazed. Soon enough he was being held down, exposing his throat. “If you keep struggling, I might fumble and put this thing through your windpipe. Is that what you want?” Thusly cowed, he remained still as the cold metal pierced his clammy skin.

The contents felt thick and viscous, like the liquid was crawling through his arteries, a tingling sensation following behind. It quickly reached his head, leaving him even more woozy than the impact had, while the spreading tingle stole feeling from the rest of his body. He felt himself growing warmer, developing a fever as if he were suffering from the flu, sweat pouring from every inch of skin. His heartrate slowed, his breathing became laboured. It was like having a lead weight on his chest.

“Wh-whas hab’nin?” he slurred through numb lips as he felt the bones in his face shift, nose flattening and jaw pushing out. He watched the growing protrusion in the bottom of his vision with fear and confusion, a round muzzle taking shape before his eyes. Elsewhere, he swore he felt his arms and legs beginning to retract , shrinking down and slowly merging into his torso. At the same time, his spine seemed to be elongating, lengthening his body. Shoulders and pelvis dissolved, the materials being redistributed and rebuilt into more vertebrae and more ribs. With the loss of his arms, his weight now rested directly on his side, allowing him to feel those new sets of ribs grow into place, while his spine continued to extend, more flesh growing out with it. Muscle and fat were reshaped along with his original ribs, shifting and stretching, giving his body the distinct tube shape of a serpent. Organs shuffled around, some growing and others shrinking, stomach and intestines stretching out and elongating to fit their new housing, the almost liquid sensation of his innards being rearranged making him queasy. His penis and testicles shrank into his body as well, the former splitting into two and shrinking to sit just within his new vent while the latter were pulled deeper inside, churning and changing in ways he felt but did not understand. His vision blurred as his eyes both grew and shifted position while his ears retracted into his head, replaced by protruding structures composed of three long bones connected by webbing. On his forehead, another bony growth emerged, a tiny nub of a horn that might cause a minor puncture if he were to headbutt someone, but nothing more. Hair all over his body fell out all at once, while skin began to be subsumed by growing patches of leathery scales that armoured his new form, creamy off-white on his belly and sky-blue on his back and up to his head. His whole body shrank in width even as it grew out longer. Soon enough, the tingling faded, his transformation complete, his new form one he was sure he had seen somewhere before but could not quite remember the name of. Thanks to the drastic difference in shape between his old and new bodies, he was no longer restrained by the ropes, but exhaustion coupled with the alien nature of his altered form left him unable to even attempt an escape.

“Complete success,” his captor said, satisfied. “Did you get all that?”

“Caught it on all three cameras, ma’am,” a man confirmed over the intercom.

“Good. Get the nurses in to check it out, make sure it’s healthy. It shouldn’t be able to resist until its brain finishes adjusting to its new body, so there’s no need for Sleep Powder. I want it awake, let the humiliation sink in.” He tried to protest as he was unceremoniously lifted out of his old clothes and tossed aside, but his mouth still felt like it was made of cotton wool, so the best he could do was an undignified whine that was simply ignored. His sadist of a captor took the chair and sat in the corner of the room, obviously anticipating what came next with great relish.

By the time a pair of nurses arrived with a gurney and another rolling table full of instruments, he was barely able to swish the very end of his tail slightly (and Arceus, the thought of his tail was beyond strange). Once more he was lifted up, this time laid out to be examined. One nurse used a tape measure to check his proportions and took notes, while the other picked up a handheld scanner and passed it over him.

“Length and width are identical to the donor specimen,” the first noted clinically before moving his head side to side. “As are the fin and horn length, and the eye colour.”

“No abnormal tissue growths detected,” the second added. “Organs are all intact and appear normal for the species. No traces of Ditto material remain, nor any human remnants. Subject appears physically indistinguishable from a natural Dratini.” Jamie blinked. Dratini were a rare species of Dragon-type, weren’t they? So that’s what he had become? Both nurses put down their tools, one of them now prising his mouth open and examining his teeth and tongue, noting apparent normal development.

The other roughly prodded at his crotch, eliciting a hiss of protestation and an attempt to shake free, though his weak thrashing was easily subdued by the first nurse holding him down. Latex-clad digits spread open the slit where his penis had once been, and the nurse continued his clinical evaluation.

“Vent appears normal.” With a firm prod, a finger pushed into his unexpectedly sensitive passage and wriggled about, drawing wordless cries of anger and indignation that went ignored. From the corner of his eye, he saw the executive shift in her seat, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, and he got the distinct impression that this was unnecessary, a move intended purely to degrade him for her enjoyment. The sensors, after all, should surely have given them all the data they needed. “Cloacal passage also appears normal, musculature functioning as expected.” The finger withdrew before moving to firmly press against a pair of nubs that felt like small, extremely sensitive cockheads. “Clitorides fully developed, response indicates sensation is intact.” Jamie desperately wanted to smash his new horn into the bastard’s face, but his muscles still weren’t reliably responding to his intent. Finally the nurses left him. “The experiment appears to have been a complete success,” one reported. “If I hadn’t seen the transformation myself, I would believe it was a perfectly ordinary Dratini.”

“And the chance of successful reproduction?”

“Its anatomy and genetic scans suggest it should be just as capable as any of its kind. Shall we prepare a sperm sample for insemination?”

“No.” The woman’s voice carried a distinct tone of anticipation. “We’ll do this one the natural way. Now leave, I will take care of the rest.”

“Understood.”

“And disable the monitoring devices as well.” There was a moment of hesitation before they acknowledged her order, took their tools, and left. The woman stood, her movements stiff, and approached the gurney he was still laid out on. She grabbed the mask from the first table and fitted it over his snout, adjusting the straps so that it was firmly adhered in place, his breath clouding the transparent plastic. “Are the cameras disabled?” When no response was forthcoming, the tension seemed to bleed out of her frame, and she laughed. “Fucking finally,” she grumbled under her breath, then stood over him and ran a hand gently up his belly. To his immense confusion, she was trembling. “It’s just us now, pet,” she crooned almost lovingly, such a vast difference from hear earlier behaviour that it threw him for a loop. She scratched behind his fins in a way that felt strangely nice. Taking his head in her hands, she gazed directly into his eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her pupils dilated. Had she been getting off watching his change and violation!? “You’re such a lucky girl, you know.”

“N-no, I’m not…” This time he actually managed to voice his protest, at least a little.

“It’s no use, pet. No one can understand you anymore. I don’t know if you can hear yourself, but all we humans hear is that sweet little ‘Dra, Dra!’” She chuckled. “This experiment has been my personal project for years, you know. If Giovanni hadn’t up and disappeared and left our Kanto bases exposed, it would have been finished so much sooner…” She trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes, before snapping back to reality. “Anyway, that Ditto serum was always my retirement plan. Instead of getting old and decrepit as a human, I’ll pick a long-lived Pokémon and get a whole new lifespan. I was thinking Milotic or Serperior.” She licked her lips. “After all, I do so love snakes.” Her eyes tracked over his body with naked hunger. “So here’s the deal, pet. The DNA sample we used to turn you came from one of the Blackthorn Clan’s Dratini by way of a bribed Pokémon Centre employee, meaning you’re the product of their stringent breeding program. Centuries of careful selection meant to produce the strongest dragons in the world. You’re going to be a brood mother for us, pumping out high-quality Dratini eggs we can sell to rich rubes who think they can just buy excellence without effort. Then once you’ve paid off your debt, Giovanni’s back, and we’ve rebuilt Team Rocket to it’s former glory, I’ll train you up and bring you onto my team as one of my personal Pokémon. Understand?” He nodded, accepting defeat. He was done, too weak to resist and with no one coming to rescue him. Even if he somehow recovered his strength in an instant, he was a first-stage Pokémon with no battle experience.

At least his status as a brood mother (the thought made him ill!) would only be temporary, and maybe one day, after enough training, he could break free from Team Rocket.

“I know what you’re thinking, pet,” his captor teased knowingly. “Don’t worry, soon enough you won’t want to break away. In fact, you’ll be utterly dedicated to me, my own loyal little dragon.” She pulled a remote from her pocket and pressed a button that caused his mask to beep, and with a hiss, the canisters released a fine purple mist inside the muzzle. It had a heady, musky scent that seemed to settle on his tongue and in his throat, one that went straight to some primal part of his brain that perked his interest. He felt warm and comfortable, relaxing his entire length, involuntarily leaning into the executive’s hand as she pet him. “Good girl,” she praised, and despite his disdain for her he couldn’t stop himself from cooing softly in response. “That gas was designed for psychological conditioning, it’ll make you nice and pliable. The aphrodisiac qualities are a happy coincidence, probably from too much Umbreon sweat. Not that the why really matters to you now, right? You just want to feel my touch, don’t you?” He absently nodded in agreement – all that mattered was that her skin felt really nice on his scales. Even if he hated her, he could at least admit she gave good scritches. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “look at you, all relaxed. Such a good girl. Such a good pet.” Her words were accompanied with light kisses planted on his sensitive fin that made him shiver, involuntary happy grumbles escaping his throat. “Look at you, getting wet for me.” He hadn’t even noticed, but she was right, his vent was swollen and damp with arousal. He felt her hands shaking, perhaps in anticipation, as the left one slowly stroked down his belly. She kissed his throat while her fingers traced his entrance, and he couldn’t stop himself pressing into her touch even as she pulled away. “Not just yet.” Fingers were brought to lips, and he watched entranced as her tongue darted out and tasted his juices. “Mmm,” she moaned indulgently, sticking one at a time in her mouth and sucking them clean. “You taste lovely, pet.” Another kiss to his fin, teasing the membrane, while her arm draped over him and pulled him close. It felt so good, and he desperately wanted to feel her skin on his scales rather than that uniform, to coil around her and bask in her warmth. But he hated her, didn’t he? The mask beeped again, and another hit of the purple mist flooded his airways, making him shudder needfully.

“Please…” Even without understanding his speech, she caught his meaning, chuckling teasingly.

“Needy girl, aren’t you? Would you like me to touch you more?” He – or was it she? She was a needy girl, after all – nodded eagerly. Again, that hand trailed down her scaled body towards her cloaca, this time rubbing against her entrance with more pressure. Slowly, gently, two fingers slipped inside her soaking tunnel, pumping into her with a lewd squelching noise that seemed to please her partner if the soft smile upon her crimson lips was any indication. “Listen to me now, pet.” The Dratini obeyed, attention fixed on the beauty pleasuring her. “My name is Ariana, and I am your Mistress, understand?”

“Y-yes!” she nodded her understanding.

“Good girl.” Then her mask was deftly unclipped with one hand and, before she knew it, soft lips pressed against her own, and she cried out into Mistress Ariana’s mouth as her climax hit. Her tail whipped around and she arched into her partner’s touch, ecstasy spreading through her body. It was all too brief, and she was soon left panting on the gurney, satisfied, as her mask was reattached, the canisters swiftly replaced. Wiping her hand down with a handkerchief, her Mistress stepped away. In an instant, she was controlled and professional, no hint of the raging arousal that had been so evident before. “Unfortunately we’re out of time, people will get suspicious if we stay here.” She drew a Pokéball from her belt. “I’ll take you to the breeding pens now. During the day, you will produce eggs. At night, I will visit you and continue your conditioning.” For the briefest of moments, her lips curled up at the corner. “I look forward to spending more time with you.” The ball was tossed at her, and with a flash of light, she was drawn into a safe, cosy space in which to rest.

The moment Jamie awoke in a cold, empty metal cell lit only by a single incandescent bulb hanging overhead, everything rushed back to him, and he could only feel immense shame and loathing. That bitch had drugged him, violated him, and fucked with his head until he had wanted her. He had thought her beautiful. She had flashed that fake smile at him and kissed him (and he did his best to ignore how that made his heart flutter even now) and made him think of her as his Mistress!

“I’ll kill her when she comes for me tonight,” he promised himself, flinching at the sound of his own voice, the same voice that had begged and cried out in pleasure for her (that she couldn’t understand him did nothing to preserve his dignity), the voice that, now that he could focus on it, carried a distinct femininity he would never have recognised as a human. It galled him that even his human speech had been stolen from him, the loss of his language something he could not manage to ignore even if his brain did seem to translate Pokéspeech instinctively. His brooding was interrupted by a panel in the door sliding open, allowing a Pokéball to be opened directly into the cell, the light from which resolved into his partner, Feraligatr! His heart soared at the sight of the big lizard looking immensely pissed off but otherwise unharmed, though he had been fitted with the same kind of mask as Jamie. “Feraligatr!”

“Hmph.” The Water-type ignored him, instead turning and examining the door before slugging it with all his might, only for a Reflect barrier to flash into existence the moment before impact. “Psychic-types,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Hey, Feraligatr!” Finally taking notice of him, the ‘gatr turned and raised a brow.

“A Dratini? Haven’t seen one of you before. How long have you been in here?”

“A minute or two, maybe? But that doesn’t matter! Feraligatr, it’s me, it’s Jamie!” Feraligatr’s eyes narrowed.

“Explain what the fuck you’re talking about before I Ice Punch you for screwing with me.” Jamie gulped.

“Hey, hold on! After you were knocked out by that Vileplume, the Rocket got me with a Sleep Powder too. I woke up in a different room where she injected me with something that turned me into this, then she put this mask on me and captured me in a Pokéball, and then they released me in here!”

“Tauros shit.” Frost began gathering around the larger Pokémon’s fist.

“Whitney accused us of cheating because Attract didn’t work on Nidorino!”

“Shit, Jamie…” Feraligatr let the Ice energy he had been gathering dissipate and drew him into a hug. “I haven’t seen Graveler or Nidorino, did you hear anything about them?” Jamie shook his head. “Alright, did you hear anything from inside your Pokéball?”

“No, I was asleep in there,” he explained. “I was exhausted. You?”

“Nothing. They put this mask on me that shocks me if I try to take it off, then shoved me in here. You know what they’re for? Why they want us here?”

“The masks hit you with a gas that- oh. Oh, fuck.” Jamie remembered what he had been told, why he was there, and he backed away, coiling around himself in the corner. “They want to breed us, to sell Dratini eggs. The mask doses you with drugs that make you horny and mess with your head. Fuck, I can’t- I don’t want to- please don’t-!”

“Jamie!” Feraligatr was firm, calm. “Listen, I’m not going to do anything to you. I don’t care what they dose me with, you know I’d never hurt you, right?”

“R-right.” Jamie swallowed, then took several deep breaths. “They won’t let us out of here if we don’t…”

“Then I guess we’ll stay in here,” Feraligatr shrugged. “If they need you to sell Dratini eggs, they won’t just leave you in here to starve to death, right?”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll gladly starve before I hurt you.” The utter conviction in his voice was heartening for Jamie. Of course he could rely on his best friend, his first partner.

At that moment, their masks beeped, but the gas that flooded from the canisters was not the purple mixture he had been exposed too previously. This was almost clear, like water vapour, and it smelled like some incredibly potent, unholy mixture of wet canine and dick. And for some Arceus-forsaken reason, it was really getting his hormones going. At this rate, he’d be positively dripping in less than a minute. Yet his mind remained clear, none of the thought-obscuring fog from before was hitting him.

“Shit,” Feraligatr grumbled, swallowing hard, “that smells really good. But I thought it was supposed to fuck with your head?”

“This isn’t what they used on me earlier,” Jamie shook his head. “But they said that stuff had Umbreon sweat in it, so maybe that’s all this is?”

“Makes sense.” A pause, then Feraligatr growled. “Wait, they already used it on you? You didn’t just overhear them talking about it? They already made you-”

“Don’t,” Jamie interrupted, vivid memories flooding his mind, involuntarily taking a deep, shuddering breath at the remembered pleasure that, combined with the chemical stimulant, left his vent aching with need. “Please, just… Don’t ask.” His partner mercifully dropped it with just a nod and went to sit in the opposite corner from him. “Fucking hell,” he mumbled without realising. Between the other Pokémon’s legs, protruding from a sleek slit, was an absolute behemoth of a cock. Nine inches in length and thick as a soda can, almost uniform in width save for the spade-shaped head and the ridges that decorated the underside, the pink monolith seared its image into his brain with just one look. He couldn’t help staring, his inner muscles twitching in anticipation of milking his partner dry.

“You’re making me bashful,” Feraligatr joked before catching sight of his expression and, mercifully, covering himself with his hands. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice came out squeaky, so he coughed and tried to shake away the dirty thoughts. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“Fuck.” His partner looked away, staring at the wall.

“What?” The ‘gatr mumbled something under his breath, so he asked again.

“I said that was cute.” Jamie blinked. His big, tough partner had just used the word… Cute? He couldn’t hold back a giggle, much as such a feminine noise embarrassed him. “Hey, what’s funny about that?”

“I never thought you would call something ‘cute.’”

“Well, you are. Really cute. Especially that giggle.”

“I don’t giggle!” he protested.

“Do now.” Feraligatr grinned at him, and Jamie swore his heart skipped a beat. The realisation sobered him right up. He looked at his partner, really looked at him, in a way he never would have considered before. Thick blue scales with subtle variations in hue; powerful muscles that could bench press a small car effortlessly; seafoam green eyes that seemed to sparkle with life; deadly sharp teeth and wicked claws meant to tear through the hides of the toughest prey yet which could be wielded with enough dexterity to avoid so much as scratching thin human skin; thick thighs that powered him over land with deceptive speed and fluidity; a hefty tail to propel him through water with an easy grace that was the envy of many purely aquatic species; the crimson crest that gave him a rough, almost punk silhouette which belied his easygoing nature. In that moment, he realised something.

“Fuck, you’re hot.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But you are! You are really, incredibly fucking hot.” Feraligatr growled a warning in a familiar tone that signalled he was done playing around, one Jamie had never heard directed at him before.

“Stop,” he firmly insisted. “You are really, really treading on dangerous ground here, Jamie.” He took a shuddering breath. “Call me anything else. Call me pretty, call me badass, call me fucking Mew incarnate if you want to, but call me hot one more fucking time and I swear to Arceus above I will stop holding back and breed that fucking beautiful ass into the ground!” Silence. Jamie swallowed. He had really gone too far, then.

And yet, a treacherous little voice in his head wanted to go further. He uncoiled himself.

“You.” He left his corner. “Are,” turned over onto his back.

And almost didn’t see his friend move. One moment the big ‘gatr was sat in the opposite corner, the next he was looming over him, claws digging into the metal beside his head, mask mere centimetres from his. Were they unencumbered, he would have felt his partner’s breath on his snout.

“Last chance.” Jamie’s eyes tracked down over the heaving mass of pure muscle to the twitching, leaking cock beneath, and he flicked his tail to brush the very tip over that turgid flesh.

“Hot.”

Whether it was the deafening roar reverberating through him or the throbbing cock plunging into his soaking hole that stole his breath he knew not, he simply allowed himself to be taken for a ride while doing his best to buck into his partner’s brutal thrusts, not that he could get very far off the ground before being slammed back down again. His blood rushed, his heart pounded in his ears, he struggled to breathe in the restricting mask. He tried to speak, tried to express just how badly he needed this, how much he adored the Pokémon above him, but the words would not come. Girlish squeaks and moans issued freely from his throat, announcing his pleasure without shame, a more than sufficient substitute for the language that now failed him. He luxuriated in the sensation of being spread open, of clenching down on a hot, twitching, leaking tool, of ridges stimulating sensitive flesh. He revelled, perhaps more than anything else, in the knowledge he was being bred , that his most trusted partner was going to fill him with eggs and make him a mother; a concept that had not long ago nauseated him yet now enraptured him. Eyes lidded, he gazed reverently up at the substantially larger, stronger reptile. The sounds of heavy breathing and pleasured vocalisations mingled with the wet schlick, schlick, schlick of his depths being plundered, giving rise to a symphony of lust. Aching for more contact, he shifted to his right and coiled as much of his upper body around Feraligatr’s arm as he could manage without pulling himself off of that delightful dick. His body reflexively constricted ever tighter around the powerful limb the closer he came to his peak. He trembled, a divine heat and tingle spreading through him, eyes rolling back in his head as he came hard, experiencing something far more potent than he could ever have possibly imagined. Feraligatr’s growl at the sudden powerful contractions of his cloacal walls rippling around the ‘gatr’s shaft resonated in his chest, and just as the sensation began to die down, his mate tensed up and drove hard into him, flooding his fertile depths and causing his first orgasm to roll into a second, pleasure building on pleasure like echoes that, together, reached volumes neither could hope to touch individually.

As he rode out the aftershocks of a double cloacal orgasm, his partner gently picked him up and held him close, his body sliding off of his arm now that he was too relaxed to maintain his coiled grip, and moved to sit back on his haunches, carefully keeping his still leaking cock lodged firmly inside the serpent’s hungry hole as it continued to rhythmically squeeze every last drop of potent sperm from his internal testes. Jamie’s body instinctively wanted to fully coil around his mate, though the fact that even his full length still came up half a metre shorter than the Water-type made that quite impossible. Still, he was happy enough being snuggled up right against the cool scales of his partner’s chest.

Neither moved or spoke until Feraligatr finally shrunk enough to slip out of the former human, bringing a small flood of wasted seed with him.

“You could have just asked me to fuck you.”

“I didn’t know I wanted it until the last moment.” Feraligatr huffed.

“I wanted it from the very beginning,” he admitted. Jamie leaned back enough to meet his eyes, and he continued before he could be interrupted. “The moment you told me what we were here for. Before the gas even hit. I would have gladly denied myself for your sake, but I still wanted you.” He idly stroked the dragon’s back, taking in the texture of scales much softer and smoother than his own. “You are beautiful like this.”

Jamie’s heart raced as Feraligatr spoke, as he was held and stroked and called beautiful by someone he had never for a microsecond imagined he would want this kind of contact with.

“Feraligatr, I-” He cut himself off as he felt something shift inside him. “Ooh, what’s- ngh!” Reluctantly, he slipped out of his partner’s hold and examined himself. To his astonishment, his belly was swelling up before his eyes! “Hhh, already!?”

“Guess the mush will have to wait,” Feraligatr muttered to himself. Then, louder: “Eggs are quick, you know.”

“I thought they were ‘a day or two’ quick, or maybe ‘a few hours’ quick at the fastest! This is ridiculous!”

“From the size of you, I’d say you’ve got two or three in there. Try to relax, it’ll go easier.”

“How the fuck would you know that!?”

“You’re hardly my first lay.”

Jamie was about to retort when the first egg dropped into his passage, and his attention was taken up by the feeling of being stretched impossibly wide.

“Oh, fuck!” He fought to keep his breathing steady and fell back on advice he’d seen in those medical dramas his mother used to watch. In, two, three, push , out, two, three, repeat. It didn’t hurt so much as it just felt odd, his durable Pokémon body fully capable of handling significantly more girth than this. Before long, his vent was spread open by a hard shell and the egg tumbled into his partner’s waiting grasp, when it was gently set aside as the second began its journey. Having experienced one laying already, he was beginning to acclimate to the action. The rhythm was easier to keep up. This time, Feraligatr softly rubbed at his slit as the egg approached, the pleasure helping to distract from the strangeness of the experience. Again, he pushed an object that by all logic should have been far too large out of his body to be placed beside its sibling.

“Looks like this is the last one.” Jamie nodded and tried to enjoy the scaled hand playing with his junk while he pushed the third egg down his passage, and soon enough, with a wet schlorp , it slid free of his hole, leaving him with a pleasant ache and a sense of wonder as his vent soon returned to its normal diameter, the only sign of his laying a generous coating of slime around the area. Looking over at the clutch – his clutch – brought a great deal of satisfaction.

And no small measure of worry.

“Are they all okay?”

“They’re fine,” Feraligatr assured him. “Not even a scratch.”

“Oh, good.” He laid back and sighed, watching his breath fog up his mask. “I’m… I’m what, a mother? Father?”

“What do you prefer?”

“I think I kind of like mother,” he decided. Something about it just felt… Nice. Feraligatr flopped down on his belly beside him, head resting atop his arms.

“Normally this is the part where I clean you up,” he explained, “but with the mask and all…”

“Clean me up? Like, with your tongue?” He thought about what it might be like to have that broad, wet organ attending to his hole and shivered. “I like the sound of that.”

“When we get out of here, I’ll make sure to take care of you properly.”

“When we get out of here…” Jamie sighed. “Honestly, if it doesn’t happen soon, I don’t know if I’ll even want to anymore. That other gas they used, it really fucks with your head. I’m not sure how long I can resist its effects.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.” There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Feraligatr let out a breath.

“Then I’ll stay with you if that happens,” he declared. “You chose me, back at the lab, so I’m choosing you. From now, to the end.” Jamie choked up, not knowing what to say to that, how to express what he was feeling. Instead, he slithered up beside Feraligatr and coiled up against his side, where he soon drifted off to a satisfied sleep.

Jamie’s next awakening was atop a tiled surface, laid out straight, with a hot towel gently rubbing at his lower body, clearing away the remnants of his mating session. He blinked, his mind taking a moment to get in gear.

It was her.

Red hair and eyes and she was touching him again and now she had taken his eggs and he was going to fucking strangle her! His tail whipped up, aiming to coil around her neck and squeeze until her lifeless body hit the ground and-

Beep.

Purple gas flooded his lungs and the rage evaporated as quickly as it had arrived. Ariana laughed as if he hadn’t just made an attempt on her life.

“Impressive reactions, pet. Going straight for the kill, not with a move but with pure physical violence? It seems there’s still some humanity in you after all.” She gently stroked his cheek. “Now be a good girl and let Mistress finish cleaning you up.” Jamie leaned into her touch with an affectionate coo. Of course she would be a good girl for Mistress! Her earlier fury seemed so silly now. Why would she be upset that Mistress had petted her and pleasured her and helped her understand what a good girl she was? “There you are, nice and presentable. Now follow me, pet, it’s time for your dinner.”

Following Ariana out of the bathroom she had woken up in, Jamie entered another room very similar to the one they had battled in back in the Goldenrod hideout (and to think she had ever tried to battle Mistress! How foolish she had been!), luxuriously appointed and spotlessly clean, furnished in much the same manner. She was led over to the coffee table, where black and red plastic bowls of water and Pokémon food were set out on a rubber matt to contain spills. Mistress crouched before her with a stern expression.

“I’m going to remove your mask so you can eat. If you cause trouble – any trouble at all – you will be subdued and fed through an IV feed, and we will not try again for a week. Understand?” A nod. “Good girl.” With that, the mask was unbuckled and pulled away, clean air rushing into her lungs along with myriad scents that momentarily overwhelmed her. Wood polish, cleaning products, hints of poison and plant matter. A mixture of blood, antiseptic, and faint floral perfume that came from Mistress. And of course, the mouth-watering scent of mixed berries coming from the food bowl that made her stomach rumble. She eagerly dug into the sweet pellets while Mistress sat on the sofa, tapping away at a tablet with a frown.

She had just finished slaking her thirst when the fading of the gas’ effects began to make itself apparent, that black hate once more beginning to rise in the pit of her stomach. Ariana must have noticed the narrowing of her eyes, or perhaps it was just because she was finished eating, but either way the mask was swiftly reattached and another dose administered before she could start to interrogate the feeling, which combined with more headpats left her happily subdued and compliant.

“Such a good girl. It’s getting late, so how about the two of us have some fun before bed, hmm?”

Days of captivity turned to weeks, and Jamie’s mental resistance was failing. Her masculine identity had been the first thing to erode, followed by the inferno of hate in her heart slowly dimming to mere burning embers that could be temporarily extinguished by a nothing more than a simple ‘good girl!’ and a scratch behind the fin from Ariana, and even the simmering anger that remained often warred with the lust she harboured despite herself. There were times when she was particularly tired that she caught herself thinking of her captor as Mistress even without the gas, though thankfully she retained enough of her wits to be disgusted with herself when it happened.

She was beginning to contemplate just giving in and making things easier on herself when something changed.

It started with Ariana missing a night, Jamie being left with Feraligatr, both of them fed by some random grunt. A few days later, she missed three nights in a row. Then a whole week. Jamie began to hope that perhaps she had been forgotten, or maybe Ariana had been captured by the League. Grunts still showed up to change the canisters in their masks and collect their eggs, but her personal tormentor was nowhere to be seen.

Then, one day, no one came for the eggs. An hour passed after laying before noises could be heard from outside the cell: muffled shouting, Pokémon cries, running footsteps, even an explosion. Something slammed into the door, denting it, and Jamie curled protectively around her latest clutch while Feraligatr stood between her and the entrance. Another bang, and the dent became a tear in the metal, a green-scaled limb piercing through before retreating, replaced by a dark eye peeking through the hole.

“Here!” a Pokémon’s voice shouted, and a human answered with an order to break open the door. In short order, another hole was punched and the door ripped open, revealing a Tyranitar on the other side. “Don’t panic, we’re here to save you!” she assured with a wave as her trainer slipped past her to enter the room, followed by an Espeon close at his heels. He was just a boy, no more than thirteen or fourteen, wearing a red jacket and a cap patterned to look like an ultra ball. Raising his hands in a gesture of peace, he stepped forward.

“I’m going to take those masks off and get you out of here, okay?”

It turned out the kid trainer had stormed the hideout with only his own Pokémon team, a crew of six monstrously powerful battlers that effortlessly dismantled all resistance they came upon, putting Jamie’s own efforts in Goldenrod to shame. From her position draped around her partner’s shoulders like a scarf, she watched him hug each of his team members in turn.

“I think we should just slip away,” Feraligatr suggested quietly. “Before he decides to start looking for our trainer or something.” The former human winced.

“Yeah, that could get complicated,” she agreed. “Let’s leave him an egg though. As thanks.”

“Are you sure? After losing so many?” Watching the boy celebrate his victory surrounded by happy partners, she nodded firmly.

“I’d like for at least one of our children to go to a good trainer. The ones who were taken… We’ll just have to hope they’re okay.” Feraligatr carefully set down one of the eggs he was carrying, receiving a subtle nod of acknowledgement from the Espeon, before quietly slipping into the treeline.

“So, what do we do now that we’re free? We never really talked about specifics.”

“I don’t know. Looks like we’re somewhere up in the northern mountains. There are supposed to be lots of lakes around here, why don’t we see if we can find one? Could make a nice place to settle down.” Jamie planted a soft kiss on her partner’s cheek, and he responded by turning and giving her a proper one, drawing a happy trill from her throat.

Their search for a new home was soon sidetracked by a very pleasant celebration of their newfound freedom.