FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A whirlwind of faces and sounds greeted John as he stepped out of his family farmhouse. He felt awkward in his new trainer’s uniform, the gaudy red and black material feeling too stiff. It was a far cry from his every-day work clothes, the very ones he would use while attending to the vast fields of corn and grain that surrounded his home.

He was a tall man, broad-shouldered with thick biceps from the countless days he had spent in the fields since his teenage years. John’s family had always relied on him for more intensive farm work.

His skin was a dusky tan in coloration from the countless days under the burning sun. It lent the normally reserved man an almost exotic appearance in the secluded village he had known all his life. His hair was dark black, shaved short to his head by his mother in an experienced, practical style that gave him little to style or toy with. His appearance had never truly mattered to him in that regard; it wasn’t like he was trying to impress the miltanks or tauros.

The two-story farmhouse was located right on the edge of town, enshrouded by tall oak trees whose leaves were already turning brown and wilting. Beneath the great canopy of branches, a dozen fires were glowing, casting a merry glow on the crowds of revelers. His family had offered to host this year, and the grounds had been alive with activity since early morning.

Wagons had been pulled forth, the pokemon that had been attached to them allowed to relax for this night. They milled around, speaking excitedly with one another. Free from their saddles and harnesses, there were plenty of reasons for them to be happy.

It was a festival to commemorate numerous celebratory occurrences over the previous year, primarily the harvest season coming to an end. The imminent departure of the eldest youths in the village had become the main focal point this year. He could already see the distinct red and black uniforms as he began to approach. He skirted the outside of the circle of partygoers, but his towering presence was hard to hide.

The village elders had been cautious when they were approached by the Hoenn Pokemon League. Their home was usually ignored; far from any town that offered a gym experience, and not even having a traditional pokemon center. It was a new incentive, they had explained, a way to give more traditionally underrepresented populaces the ability to become trainers.

Promises were made, deals were struck, and a month earlier his parents had told him he would be leaving to start his journey. He had been flabbergasted when he was told. His twin brothers were too young to handle the laborious work of the farm, and his father was getting on in years. Even when they explained to him the League was offering a generous stipend that would allow them to hire additional laborers, he was still unconvinced.

As he got closer to the center of the party, his contention over the whole event began to fade. The special ‘guests’ of the village had already arrived, and he noticed the twin, white-furred canids.

Years before John had been born and when the town had just been established, a fire had started in one of the barns. It was just after the harvest season and would have ended in tragedy had the winter stocks been rendered to ash. The only reason the original inhabitants of the town had been able to save it was through the divine intervention of an absol that lived in the region.

Before him, maintaining a seat of honor next to the elders of the village were the very descendants of that folk hero. A taller female was holding her head high, her head-blade glistening in the light of the fires. Her white fur had begun to fade to a dull gray over the years, but her animated movements and vocalizations projected her enthusiasm.

Next to her was the girl he had been looking for, and he felt a tightening in his throat when he remembered what he wanted to talk to her about. It gave him pause, caused him to hold back, especially when he saw her eyes roaming the crowd.

Pythia. An absol, a picturesque paragon of her species.

Her coat of fur had a glossy sheen to it, kept meticulously, almost obsessively clean of anything that might befoul it. She wore an unhappy frown bordering on a pout, her displeasure at being the center of attention not lost on anyone that looked her away. Her blade curved at an angle upwards, the wicked cutting implement chipped at the very tip.

John swallowed. He stood in place unsurely on the edge of the crowd. He wanted to approach her, to push through the throngs of merrymakers and talk to her. It was difficult for him to work up the urge, however.

“Hey, hey John!”

He was broken from his stupor when he heard the voice calling out to him. It rang out above the strum of the acoustic instrumental band. John noticed Pythia’s ears perk up at the mention of his name, but before he could do anything a figure had stepped in front of him.

John recognized the short girl, the dusty-blond hair that was cut back in a tomboyish fashion. She had dark freckles over a tan face, her blue eyes vibrant with excitement. In an instant, he felt a smooth, cold object being forced into his hands. The biggest draw to the festival was the alcohol that ran cold and free; it made even the haphazardly thrown together band sound good most years.

“Check it out, my dad opened his private stock!” The girl in front of him wore the same trainer uniform that he did, but hers fit much nicer than John’s. She had been wearing it for the past few weeks; John had seen her out making deliveries for the general store, proudly boasting of her imminent departure.

He looked down at the jug in his hands, the faded label covered with the scrawling shorthand of her father. John was well accustomed to seeing it, every order from the general store was covered in the hectic chicken scratch.

“I’m not too thirsty, Quinn,” he started, gritting his teeth at the frown that met him.

“Awww, come on now, don’t be a party pooper, John!” She reached down and pressed her hand against the bottom of the jug, lifting it upwards. “You look like a grumpig with no mud to roll in. Ain't cha’ happy?”

John was intensely aware of the glimpses that were being offered his way. It made his face redden. Spilling free from the mouth of the jug was the heady aroma of fermented cider, the sickly-sweet odor enough to make his mouth start to water. Only on special occasions was he allotted this brew, and he sighed when Quinn continued to look at him expectantly.

“One drink? Just for me?”

“…one drink.”

When he was growing up, his parents had made some not-quite subtle hints that they would enjoy seeing their son marry Quinn. In a small town like this, there weren’t many nubile females to choose from. Their newest victory had been to try and convince him that traveling with her on his journey would be for the best. They had broached this in front of her, and he had no real reason to say no to her.

He was already tense as it was, and to get her off his back he was willing to fulfill her incessant demands. The cool, thick liquid spilled into his mouth as he drank, holding back on the handle to tilt it higher upwards. The grainy sediment that sank to the bottom of the bottle collected on his tongue, cleared away with a few deep, quick gulps.

All at once he could feel the warmth flaring up in his stomach from the alcoholic drink, his heart beginning to beat faster. With the back of his hand, he wiped his lips clean before returning it to Quinn. She seemed to be grinning at him, apparently pleased with his performance.

“My daddy says it ain't as good as the ‘shine they used to brew up in the hills,” she winked at him and took a considerably smaller sip from the bottle, “he said just a drop of that would have any woman dropping their drawers.”

John snorted in amusement at the thought, feeling a little less tense now. The taste in his mouth was ever-present, and he sighed to himself. “Well, thanks, Quinn. Hey, do you mind if we keep talking later? There’s someone I want to talk to.”

Her smile briefly faded but she contained her disappointment. With a smile, she nodded with her head towards the center of the group. “Wanna’ go see your furry gal, huh?” She let out a long, ostentatious sigh and shrugged. “I guess I can’t stop ya’, tell her I said hi, okay? We still planning on leaving in the morning, right?”

He nodded quickly, disregarding the way she put on such a big show of his sudden departure. “Yeah, yeah…we’ll meet in the square, then we can head out.”

“Great! Here,” she reached back and pulled off a jug that had been hanging from her backpack. It bore the same writing as the one in her hand but was a little smaller in size. A large cork was placed in the stopper, the slosh of liquid from within hinting at how full it was.

“This is from my dad, for Py. He says she needs to get used to drinking it if she’s going to be the next harvest queen. I was gonna give it to her myself, but since you’re heading that way…” she snickered a bit “just tell her it’s a gift from you. I’m sure she’ll like that.”

He felt his face redden further, and he rolled his eyes. She was always doing this, always acting like their relationship was something more serious than it was. Regardless, he took the bottle from her and stowed it in his backpack with grateful thanks. If nothing else, he could enjoy it later; Pythia didn’t like alcohol, even something like this.

“Thanks, Quinn. I’ll talk to you later.” He smiled at her once more and began to turn away. He had only taken a few steps before he looked back over his shoulders. The girl had already disappeared in the crowded space, probably off to speak to the other soon to be trainers.

It wasn’t difficult for him to push through the crowd, although he did his best to be respectful of the others. The long-legged man was a bit clumsy in his motions to begin with. With even the slight amount of alcohol in his system, he felt like a marionette on splayed strings. There were quite a few apologies thrown out before he finally managed to reach his destination.

John was met with disappointment at what he saw, for the blanket that had held Pythia only moments ago was now empty. He paused, momentarily unsure of what to do before he heard the soft, velvety voice calling out to him.

“Hello, John…” It sounded more feline-like than a canid, with the older absol seeming to let out a noise reminiscent of a delighted purr. Her muzzle was reddened, her tone a little slurred. Laying before her was a bowl that had presumably once held the fermented cider. The dark pokemon releasing a happy sigh as he began to approach her. “I was hoping you would make an appearance…my daughter was missing you.”

Perched on her head was a silly little garment. It was a wreath made of tangled holly and wildflowers, the unofficial ‘crown’ of the harvest queen.

“H-Hi, Agata…” He spoke in a quick voice. The years hadn’t changed his reaction to being placed in the center of her attention. Agata had a way of putting her speaking companions on a pedestal, making it clear that all that concerned her at that moment was whoever had approached her.

He shifted in his stance in front of her. Her almost predatory eyes were unaffected by her inebriation, even if she spoke a little slower. Her front claws would press into the dirt every so often, creating shallow furrows. With a long, luxurious stretch, she rolled over onto her side and sighed in a delighted fashion.

“Isn’t the festival outstanding?” Her muzzle twitched and she seemed to giggle as she stretched out her back legs. The older pokemon must have had more than a few drinks in her, for John was graced with the sight of more than her back legs spreading.

Nestled in the white fur that cropped up around her groin was the prominent, spade-shaped sex of the canine pokemon. It stood out even in the darkness around them, her total lack of self-awareness making it even more obvious. “I do so love the displays of respect you humans put on for each other. All you young ones are ready to enter the world pushed free like a pidgey from a nest.”

It was mortifying to see his best friends’ mother like this. She might not have cared that her legs were spread, that he could clearly see the dark, spade-shaped sex that graced her. John had imagined in the past what it must be like to be a pokemon, to have to constantly be worried about your privates being on display. His gaze would drift downwards, no matter how much he tried to resist.

There were times he had seen Pythia in this manner. With the amount of time they spent together growing up, the games they would play, it would have been impossible to ignore. It felt like he was back in that young state of mind, ashamed at his interest in this part of a pokemon.

John had heard the jokes among the other kids his age, including Quinn. That a human and a pokemon could get together was taboo, something that the villagers would have preferred to be kept behind closed doors. Even his parents had questioned him on his intentions when he got older. He supposed that was why they wanted to pair him with Quinn so badly.

“I…was l-looking for your daughter.” He stated this flat, curtly, trying not to make his uncomfortableness at this situation obvious. “I saw her over here…”

She raised up and pressed one of her paws to her chin in an inquisitive gesture. The older absol finally seemed to become aware that she was so prominently displaying herself, but her response was little more than an amused giggle. “Yes, well. You know how she is, never did enjoy being the belle of the ball. I do wish she would relax and allow herself some enjoyment…”

John waited a moment before clearing his throat, drawing her attention back to her. “Do you know where she went?” Even though he was hopeful, he prepared himself for disappointment. If Pythia wanted to remain hidden, she could very well get away with it.

With a slow, laborious tilt of her hips, she rolled back onto her stomach and tilted her head to the side. The hypnotic hold she had on him was broken when she hid her private parts from view. It had made John’s heart race, the seemingly uncouth action associated with such a noble pokemon.

“I believe she said…” she started, speaking slowly, “that she was going to your usual place.” She put extra emphasis on this, her eyes opening a crack and a coy smile meeting him. “Is that enough for you to go on, my dear?”

The instruments from the band swelled around him, growing louder by the second. He could detect a hint of discord, the frayed strings of an instrument creating a noise that stood out from the melodious tunes of the rest. He didn’t know why, but the sound of it creeping in the background and rising to overtake him was becoming too much for him to withstand.

“The usual place.” He mumbled, immediately knowing just what she was referring to. He turned to face the southern edge of town, pulling his backpack even tighter by the straps. “Yeah, I think I know where she is. Thank you, Agata.”

“My pleasure, darling.” She sighed softly and shot him a weary smile. “I will miss this, I must admit. No longer being the center of devotion for you humans…I hope Pythia finds her happiness.”

John nodded quickly, suddenly feeling out of place among the swathes of people. He had never enjoyed large crowds, even when he was younger. The experience of walking through the city on those very few occasions had been tempered with Pythia at his side, but now he was on his own to suffer through the choking sensation that was arising in his chest.

“I hope so, too…” He spoke before he realized it, and then he had turned, walking at a brisk pace out of the center of attendants. There were flashes of faces, people calling out to him to try to draw him back. He ignored them all, simply waving off a few questions of where he was going.

It was almost a comfort when he came to the empty fields that bordered the village. There was no one out here, no sound except for the distant calls of nocturnal pokemon that laid claim to the night. From here, John felt himself sinking into the pattern of familiarity, years removed but still able to remember just what path to take.

Walking across the field caused goosebumps to rise on his arm. The cold wind blew through the flat ground, kicking out small clouds of dust. It was an entirely different world from the party that he was leaving, isolation and exclusion as suffocating as the swirling motes of dirt. He picked up his pace, hurrying along to leave this barren landscape behind for the shelter of the tall trees that awaited him.

It was here that Pythia and John spent their childhood days. The familiar scent of the forest enveloped him in its embrace, shrouding him in a protective cloak of darkness. The underbrush had sprung up on the familiar paths, and John was forced to rely on the flashlight he had packed in preparation for his journey.

If it wasn’t for the scars on the trunks of trees – old wounds sliced deliberately and deeply – he was concerned he would have been wandering far longer. Pythia had done it after complaints from him one day. He had been worried he would someday lose his path and be unable to find her when he needed her the most.

The welcoming silence of the forest was broken when the last of the trees left him behind. He spared them a solemn glance, wondering why they always seemed so much larger and more intimidating when he was a child.

The music was present again, calling out to him in an ill-guided attempt to draw him back to the promise of warmth and companionship. Even during his ascent up the steep hillside, it still felt like he was part of the festivities back in the village. He would spare a few glances back every so often as if to reassure himself that it was still happening without his presence.

The farmers paid little mind to this parcel of land beyond the forest. It was all craggy rocks that ornery bird pokemon flocked to, the ground covered in sticker bushes and creeping vines that seemed as sentient as any plant pokemon. The only pokemon that ever seemed to be willing to make this place their home were the gogoats and skiddo that were allowed to roam the outer fields. He trudged through it effortlessly, his uniform right for the overgrown terrain.

Not many people came out here and growing up it had been the perfect place for John and his best friend. It was at the base of a rocky hill that he stopped. Large, jutting stones stuck out at odd angles, giving the viewer a fear that they may fall at any second. He didn’t need a flashlight to see the line of tattered rope that still lay on the ground.

Frayed and worn from countless seasons left to the elements, he almost didn’t think it would be enough to hold his weight. John lifted it from the ground and gave a few experimental tugs on it, satisfied with the way the rope remained taut. He considered it, a memento from his childhood, a necessary acquisition from the general store that had cost him a few weeks allowance. Quinn had asked him what it was for, but he remained incredibly vague.

It had been years since he made this journey up the hill, but he found it as welcoming as an old friend. The rocky hills were cleared of vegetation by their caprine inhabitants, the loose gravel and dirt having been worn away centuries ago. He could feel the wind kicking up around him with every step upwards he took, the rope creaking ominously but holding firm.

At that moment, he felt like a teenager again. He remembered the feeling of exertion that came with this, at this point on the hill he would have been visible to anyone below. It came with a sense of exploration, a feeling of privilege, something no one else cared to do.

His destination was ahead, an alcove invisible from the ground, a once bastion against the growing responsibilities that had overtaken him as he grew older.

It wasn’t his alone, however, and it was proven to him when he saw her silhouette in the moonlight.

She lay across the rocky ledge, looking down at the bright light of festivities with an almost forlorn expression. The white-furred pokemon was curled in on herself slightly, even though up here the early autumn wind was blocked by the rocky walls that enclosed on her. She looked so much different than she did at the party, the harsh exterior she projected having been all but dropped.

John had felt her eyes on him when he was making his journey up, but he heard no call of greeting, no words of encouragement from his friend. She sat stoic, poised like a statue, a vision in ivory fur that took his breath away. It was only when he began to feel the rope slip from his grip did he remember the importance of his guide and he grunted as he dug his nails into the fibrous material.

When he reached the lip of the rocky ledge, his friend moved aside, her tail curling upwards as he addressed her. “Pythia…”

“I didn’t think you remembered the way. I guess part of me hoped you didn’t.” She spoke softly, calm and collected, her canine nose twitching at the scent of him. He was certain he smelled of sweat and sweet cider, of the fields and the dusty barns that he spent his days toiling away in. “How did you know I was here?”

Now it was time for John to fall silent. With a practiced rotation of his arm that time had done nothing to dull he began to pull the rope back up the hill towards him. He looped the length around his arm, looking around the darkened cave where so many days of their childhood had been spent.

Here were the drawings on the cave wall that had stood the test of time, protected from rain and wind by the roof of the cave. They had been carved into the stone, Pythia with the blade affixed to her head and John with a pocketknife that had been gifted to him on his tenth birthday. In the back of the cave were the ratty blankets that John had absconded with from the family barn, much to the ire of the rapidash and mudsdale that used them.

Childish toys, mementos of a bygone time that seemed lifetimes away. It all hit John in the pit of his stomach, that sense of desperation, the fight against the creeping despair of age that had taken so much away from them.

The cave wasn’t too deep, could hardly even be called a cave. Pythia had been the first one to find it, the pokemon naturally suited to climbing this terrain. It was a place she had wanted to share with him, a secret that no one else knew about. It was here that their friendship had grown.

It hurt him to see all this because he knew that after tonight, he would never be able to experience it again.

So many memories rushed back to him. Of better times, times when he didn’t go to sleep feeling like a broken automaton and awaken feeling like he had merely put a patch over the cracks that had formed in him. It had always been expected of him to work to the point of exhaustion on the farm.

He had been so desperate to lie to himself that there would be a time in the future with Pythia. The false promises he made to himself were all he could think of, all the ways he had lied to both of them about what he would do to get them back together.

“Your mom said you wanted to…meet in the usual place.” He finally spoke, keeping his voice low. He almost felt like he was sullying sacred ground, especially when he was in the presence of Pythia. She still lay near the ledge, the alabaster moonlight casting her in its glow. Her pelt was free of burrs or errant leaves, even after what had to be a mad dash here; it was always something that made him forget that she was a wild pokemon. “I couldn’t think of anywhere else she could be talking about…”

The absol nodded curtly, her paws stretching out in front of her before she rested her muzzle on them. “I didn’t. I told her I wanted to be alone.” Her body language was guarded, stiff like the new broncos John would occasionally need to break on the farm. He approached her in the same vein as he would them, grabbing his backpack and gently setting it on the ground.

All at once her expression changed to one of disgust when she saw the bag, her teeth flashing for the barest of moments before her animosity faded. She watched him rifle through it, putting aside various articles of clothing and supplies before he finally found what he was looking for. A blanket folded into a square, Pythia recognized the pattern as the same John’s mother used when sewing.

John unfolded the blanket and spread it on the ground a bit deeper into their cave, their own private world that like the forest had seemed so much larger back then.

They had known each other since John had been able to pick up a hoe and assist in the fields. He had seen her at the festivals with her mother, at that time Agata was a young and spry pokemon that exuded confidence. He had found her daughter fascinating, the way she hid her face from view, seemingly out of place whereas her mother basked in the admiration that came her way.

He had approached her wearily only to find out that she was as intimidated by him as he was of her. Two different species, similar in age, it only made sense the two of them would become friends. In John, she found comfort, a friend that could help her feel safe while she grew. In her, John found an exotic mystique, a betrayal that there were greater things in the world than simply dragging a shovel through the dirt.

“I have some food if you’re hungry,” he started, quickly feeling like he was speaking only to himself, “…some hardened cider, if you wanted any.” John sighed at the cold shoulder that she continuously displayed to him, able to think of only one reason why that could be.

“I’m not hungry. I’m not thirsty.” She insisted quickly, her anger becoming permeable in the air. It felt out of place here; this had always been somewhere they went to be happy. “I didn’t want to see you, I…I just wanted you to leave.”

“You heard about that, huh…” He started to reach out towards her, only to shift in his sitting position when she whipped her head back towards him. Only now could he see the tears that had stained the fur around her eyes, the absol once more baring her fangs at him and growling in a low, distressed manner.

“I didn’t want this, this...” she snapped, anger and hurt all mixing in her voice, “whatever this is. This attempt to make me feel better? Why the hell did you even come…” She held a firm tone, her emotions beginning to seep in against her will. Pythia watched him, testing his response and snorting at the sullen silence that greeted her. “You said as long as…as long as I stayed, you would.”

The drawings on the wall behind John felt like a betrayal now. It brought back the whispered conversations, the excited tones of their voice when they would discuss all the different places they would travel to. Having lived in this town their whole life, having only ever journeyed to other towns on supply runs, it was all they knew.

Running away together had always seemed like the only chance they would have. During his teenage years when John was still defiant of authority, he had declared how his parents wouldn’t keep him there for much longer. He spoke spiritedly, telling her of the accomplishments they would make.

It was always they, always we, never did she ever think he would go back on his word. To have heard it from John’s mother at the festival had been worse than anything another pokemon could do to her. It shattered her, crushed the crystalline dreams she had crafted in her mind like an insect under John’s work boots.

She was trembling with her anger, her body beginning to betray her as a gentle whine escaped her muzzle. Her freedom as a wild pokemon meant nothing to her. She was stuck in this town, a fixture as unyielding as the buildings and fields that surrounded it.

Growing up, her mother had always told her - normally in a roundabout way - that she would be expected to continue the legacy as the defender of the village. It hadn’t been intentionally cruel of her - it was the same thing she had been told as a young absol - but it tore away all the fantasies that Pythia had crafted. She had dreamt of the day John would call on her and they would escape together, but it never came.

When John turned fourteen, he was considered a man around his family farm. Their days of exploring the fields together, of climbing the craggy rocks and playing fantasy with so many grandiose ideas were phased out. Pythia hadn’t noticed it at first. It had been a missed playdate here, a hurried apology and promise to make up time later there, and then…she was alone.

That wasn’t to say they didn’t see each other any longer. She always knew where to find John; he would be working, having little time for more than a polite exchange of greetings before his father would shoo her away. Growing up had driven a thorn into her heart that just grew larger and larger with the passing years, brought to a climax when she learned of his impending departure.

John had always wished her visits would last longer, but the fence that separated them seemed more imposing as he grew. John had seen how she grew over the years from the admittedly scrawny absol to a champion of her species. It seemed every time he saw her she had changed, knowing a new move or flashing longer claws and a sharper blade. He envied her for her personal growth while he had always felt like he was standing in place.

In the furrows of the dusty fields, he felt like he had wasted the last few years of his life. Days were cyclical in their monotony, the only bright side being her. When the village elders had appeared with the good news of his impending departure it had seemed like a wish granted by Jirachi himself.

At that moment, his childhood friend had been so far from his mind. He had finally realized it that night when he lay in bed and the excitement had died down. With cold, stark knowledge, he knew he would be expected to go alone.

John almost didn’t trust himself to calm her down, she was visibly shaking, the tears starting back up again.

He hadn’t had the strength to tell her on those visits of the honor he was given, of how his parents would have disowned him if he turned down this opportunity. He had waited in grueling silence, each time trying to form the words that just wouldn’t come no matter how hard he tried.

That he would need to leave town. That he would betray every promise he made to her in order to appease the whims of his family.

He reached out for her cautiously, his fingers hesitating mere inches from her trembling shoulder. Ultimately, he worked up the nerve to touch her, the silky soft fur just as he remembered it. She stiffened at the touch but after her initial display of impertinent anger, she had no more fury to spare.

John drew the crying pokemon close to him. For the young man, if it were anyone else, he would have been very uncomfortable. It wasn’t often he needed to caretake the emotions of another person, but he had years of experience to draw upon when it came to Pythia.

No words would do his sense of desperation for forgiveness the justice that it deserved. When she did not make a move to pull away from his attempts at an embrace, he instead began to wrap his arms around her. He entwined their bodies together, allowing her head to press to his chest, the gentle sounds of her crying muffled now. John was mindful of the blade that adorned her head, the dangerously sharp edge so close to touching him.

One of his hands ran slowly up and down her back. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, the music in the distance beginning to fade away.

He remembered this. The times their angst would get to be too much and they needed to release it in a flurry of heated emotions. It had been years since they needed to do this, and he was surprised to find that his anxiety was coming from a vastly different place.

Up until he was sixteen, all he could think about was leaving this place. In the past couple of years, he had begun to feel a tug, a nagging voice in the back of his head that told him this was where he belonged. It seeped in slowly, fed by his parents’ initial insistence that he needed to stay to help them on the farm, as well as the mentions of just what the real world was like.

John opened his eyes a crack, a little relieved that Pythia had softened in her cries, the absol’s forehead pressed tight to his chest. He could feel her gentle breathing, the rise and fall of her chest with each inhale.

It hurt him to know that he was demonizing the dream that Pythia obviously still had.

She was a fighter. She might not have enjoyed being the guest of honor at the festivals, but that didn’t translate into her ability to defend herself. He had helped her gain confidence in this part of herself, allowed it to flourish. On more than one occasion when he went to their den, he would see her and her mother engaged in a training session. It always astounded him just how violent the encounters seemed to be, both females throwing themselves at each other in a tangle of claws and fangs.

The chip in her blade marked the most grueling battle of her young life.

He still remembered how she had lost it. It was on one of their journeys out of the village. They had been warned to stay to the path, to not venture into the unforgiving wilds where the feral pokemon lived. Brash, bull-headed, they had tossed aside the words of warnings and dared to try their luck.

It had all happened so sudden that it still gave John chills. His first real experience with a wild pokemon, it had made him realize just how dangerous being a trainer could be.

One moment they had been walking down a path, speaking of some unimportant matter that he no longer recalled. Pythia had sensed it first, the absol going stock still in the middle of their conversation. It was only when she warned him twice to move could he hear the rumble of heavy footsteps.

The bellowing cry of a rhyhorn male, his territory disturbed, and the gust of wind from his close passage. These were all things he still remembered when he fell from the path, the sounds of the skirmishes reaching his ears. The sound of a blade on stone, the roars of pain and the cries of fury from Pythia.

John had thought her battles with her mother were violent, but it was nothing compared to the fury that the absol displayed at that moment.

She had drug herself away from the defeated male, panting and exhausted. They had run, thinking only of getting away. It wasn’t until they had gotten home when Agata’s angry cries over the condition of her daughter revealed the chipped blade.

“I don’t want you to go,” Pythia spoke finally, her voice melancholy, her emotional session having drained the last of her energy from her. “I’ve been seeing everyone in their uniforms, I’ve heard them talking about how excited they all are…I knew you’d be leaving.”

John’s hand reached the base of the canid’s tail, his fingers digging in and gently scratching her. His actions were rewarded with a slight twitch and a lazy wag before she forced herself still. “I wanted to tell you sooner…”

Pythia huffed. Her red eyes squeezed shut once more as she continued. “I’ve been walking past your farm every day for weeks now, trying to think of what I would say to you.” She pulled away from him, just enough so their eyes could meet. He saw the sadness that welled up from her expression, the man she trusted most in the world the only person to see her like this. “I’m…I’m happy for you, really, I am…I just…I just wish things could have been different.”

John looked down when Pythia directed her gaze towards the stars high above the valley. With no electrical light shining, they were so clear to the eye. They always seemed so obtainable, never changing and always there when she needed them. They were like John in that regard.

“I could stay.” John blurted this out, desperately wishing it could be true. He could only imagine what his parents would say if he approached them now to tell them he wasn’t leaving. The words sounded fake even to him, and Pythia sighed deeply, accompanying it with a shake of the head.

“You’re leaving.” She stated this firmly, her tone as sharp as a knife. She appraised him out of the corner of her eye, her muzzle set hard. “I won’t be the reason you’re stuck here. If I were, then I would never forgive myself…”

John knew there was no arguing this with her. Their destinies had been set by their parents long ago. He was lucky that an outside force had stepped in, paving the way for his own emancipation from the doldrums of life here.

“I wish things could be different,” Pythia repeated, “I always thought we’d…” She swallowed, her voice quivering in a portent of embarrassment. “Thought we’d be together forever. That’s how it always went in my mind.” She wiggled slightly feeling the strong grip on her. If nothing else, it was a comfort against the encroaching sense of loneliness.

Her admission made his face redden, more so than the alcohol ever could. To hear her say it so bluntly stole the words from his mouth. At first, it had seemed like the last few years had driven a wedge between them, but he still felt that sense of closeness to her that he always had.

His hand ran down her spine slowly, gracing her with soft touches and a comforting pressure on her back. It drew her closer to him until he could feel her warm breath on his neck with every exhale she made. At that moment, everything seemed else so minuscule.

The fear of leaving, of traveling into a world he didn’t understand mattered nothing to him. She was what mattered, the pokemon in his grasp, the girl that he had been too afraid to tell that he cared for her in more than just a platonic way. He hated himself for fearing the rumors and the whispered, serpentine gossip that made its way through the small community.

Their opinions, his own parent’s thoughts on the matter, all of it was washed away with the realization that this might be their last night together.

He realized Pythia was watching him, her head slightly cocked to the side in an expression of canine curiosity. She had felt his heart rate quicken as his body tensed up, and she grew slightly worried when he finally looked back down at her.

“Do you remember when you saved me from the rhyhorn…” He began, unable to help but glance at the wedge of blade that had been broken from her head blade. He still felt guilty whenever he looked at it, that hadn’t changed. She stirred in his grip but remained silent as he continued. “We were walking back, and…and I thought you were the most amazing, powerful pokemon I had ever met. I just…couldn’t admit it, because I thought you’d think I was weird…”

The absol shrunk slightly under his gaze; him praising her achievements and her strength always embarrassed her. “I just thought you were a dumb human that would walk off a cliff if you didn’t have me there to hold your hand.” It wasn’t intended to be a cruel representation of his hopelessness, but he knew she was only half-joking in her assessment of him.

He smiled and chuckled briefly. There was a brief pause as he looked at her. He was biting on his lip now, something she had come to learn was a clear indicator of his nervousness. “Do you remember what happened after that?” Out here, there was no one to hear them, but he still spoke in a hushed whisper. “Before your mom found us…”

Pythia knew why he didn’t want to draw attention to this moment. It made her own stomach tighten, but she smiled wistfully. “We were just kids, John…you always acted like it was such a big deal…” She looked down at her front paws, her claws extending and digging partially into the blanket.

The memory of that day was vivid in the disaster pokemon’s mind. She could remember every detail of the fight, the look of fear on John’s face, and the snap of her head blade. It was the day she realized that there were times where she needed to rely on herself, as there were things she could do that John would never be able to. It had fueled her desire to train, to get stronger and become a better fighter; it certainly showed from the copious muscles John felt as he massaged her.

She knew this wasn’t what he was talking about, however. He was talking about what came next before they got home and were trying to come up with a story to explain the damage she sustained. Neither wanted to admit to their parents that they had disobeyed their orders, shirking the warnings like the teens they were.

John had been awestruck with her, speaking quickly and animatedly about the fight and just how amazing it had been to watch her move. For once, Pythia had allowed herself to bask in the adoration of this, the one person she had come to trust as much as her own family. They had gotten close, close like they were now, and John had grown conflicted. In the still air of dusk, he had asked her if he could kiss her.

It was their first, and only, showing off their true feelings for each other. Feelings that had bubbled under the surface, fueled by teenage angst and the desire for something more.

The absol’s heart was racing, John could feel it as her chest pressed against his side. His eyes had softened, taking in her beauty with an undeniable sense of desire. Time seemed to slow to a crawl at that moment. He released the grip he had on her back and instead reached slowly for her muzzle, making every movement steady so as not to surprise her.

He was happy when the absol pressed forward, allowing him to cup her muzzle in the palm of his hand. It was so different than a human female’s, not that he had ever experienced this passionate of action with anyone else.

“My only regret…” Pythia started, her eyes shimmering in the bright moonlight, “was that it was the only time we kissed…” There was no reluctance in the way she held herself, no attempt to pull away from him. It all told him that this was what she wanted, and he was all too happy to comply.

John’s mouth felt dry. The butterflies in his stomach had only gotten worse. He fought the choking sensation in his throat and managed to finally speak. In a small town where rumors ran rampant, he regretted not admitting his true feelings sooner. “I…wanted to do this again so long ago…”

Their lips met briefly, awkwardly as John tried to maneuver around her muzzle. The absol would giggle as they broke apart after the first failure, her face warming from the remnants of the sweet taste of apples on his lip. He needed to tilt his head as he approached her again, the hand that was grasping her cheek holding her in place for him. It felt good, allowing him to feel a sense of closeness to her that he had all but forgotten.

John was gentle in his movements, allowing Pythia every opportunity to pull away if she wanted to. His grip on her had lessened, but that didn’t translate into a waning desire on his part. Their eyes met briefly before breaking away, the two friends flustered as the barriers that held them back began to crumble.

So many words left unspoken, so many late-night dreams and confusing feelings that they never acted upon. It all came out at this instant. He moved her slowly, allowing her back to fall on the blanket he had spread below them.

“Is this okay?” He broke the kiss to whisper this, breathing heavily already. His hand roamed her flank slowly, his main focus being on her comfort. Her tongue had lolled out of her mouth at him, her gentle panting and the soft sounds of her happiness made him want to return to their passionate embrace.

“You…haven’t gotten any better at kissing,” Pythia said, matter-of-factly. She shook her head and giggled, bemused by the sudden look of worry on his face. “Does that mean…I’m the only girl you’ve ever kissed?” She looked at him introspectively, her head tilting at a cute angle.

John huffed. She was always able to get under his skin, but he took her comment in jest. “Of course. There isn’t anyone else I’d ever do this with.” This was apparently the right answer, and he was rewarded with a slow, meticulous lick across his cheek from the pokemon below her. It drew him back in, drew him to her sweet, black lips that captured his own in a storm of passionate energy.

Neither knew how long they lay there, embraced in the most natural of ways. Their shared body heat was enough to keep them warm, chasing away the chill in the air. Both of them had their own interests in the other’s body, with John continuing to rub and stroke her flanks. Likewise, Pythia would run her paws down his broad chest, shivering at the farm boy muscles years of hard work had cultivated.

Every so often their lips would part and their tongues would meet in a curious fashion, their tips just brushing together. Each time, they would grow embarrassed and draw their tongues back into their mouths, neither wanting to feel like they were rushing this.

Eventually, John would break the kiss, his breathing husky, heavier than the evanescence of Pythia’s own soft breathing. She looked up at him in a way he wasn’t familiar with. Her muzzle was curled up in a coy grin, her eyes narrowed in a fashion that almost made him self conscious. It hit him that this was how her mother would look at the humans during the festival when she was intoxicated and was lacking in self-restraint.

“How…how was that?” He asked, trying to calm his racing heart and finding it rather hard, especially with the captivating expression she wore.

John had been trying to ignore the tightness that had been growing in the front of his pants. He was aware of what it was and had only hoped she hadn’t noticed it. The way she giggled and looked down every so often made him think he hadn’t done a very good job of hiding it.

“Much better…” Pythia almost seemed to purr. She pressed her wet nose into his neck softly, rubbing against his sensitive skin and making the human shiver for her. The pinprick of her sharp teeth was impossible to ignore, the dark pokemon’s excitement manifesting in a much more provocative way than a human woman’s. “I always wondered if you would figure out how to kiss without sucking on my nose…”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he would be remiss to pull away from her gentle nuzzling into his neck. He would wince at the feeling of the teeth, but the wet swath of her tongue along his throat was a comfort. It was a display of submission as much as it was a display of trust, and John wanted her to know he was willing to accept all she had to give him.

The wet lap of her tongue against his skin grew louder, the purring growls radiating louder from the bosom of his furred partner. It vibrated through her body and into him, making him gasp occasionally against his will.

“P-Pythia…” He started, a hint of a crack in his voice garnering her attention. She pulled away from his sensitive neck, her expression growing sheepish. He did not fault her for trying to listen to her instincts, and some part of him missed the feral display of affection. He relayed this to her with a gentle smile, his obsequious nature overtaking his need for self-preservation.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered, apologetic even when he prepared to voice his objection to it. “That’s…something only mates do. We’re not mates.” She stated quickly, although her eyes had darted back down to the bulge he was sporting. There was no denying it was there any longer.

“Unless…you wanted…” She looked away from him, doing her best to hide her face in her furry bangs. It was hard for him to tell if her tone implied hopefulness, or simply a desire raised by lubricious feelings for him. Her immediate thought was he was going to reproach her for this action, to even suggest such a thing. It didn’t help when he went silent, regarding her with mixed emotions.

“Wanted to try it…”

John swallowed hard. His initial reaction was to fidget, but he couldn’t deny the desire that was swelling up within him. One of his hands pressed against her stomach, his fingers barely resting on the soft plume of fur. He drew it down agonizingly slowly, watching the way she shivered beneath his touch and gasped for him. His destination was obvious, and he shivered when he felt the warm, slick skin.

He didn’t need to look down to know he had found her spade. By touch alone he could feel it was the same shape as her mother’s, radiating heat that he was enough to draw his fingers back. He looked back up at her, seeing the way her muzzle had tightened in conflict. John was sure he knew what the reason for this was. If they followed through with this, there would be no going back to the relationship they had before. It would irrevocably change their feelings for each other.

“Is this okay…” He whispered to her, his finger barely gracing the soft petals of her womanhood. When she jumped, he immediately began to pull his hand away, only for her to shake her head gently.

“I-It just…tickles a bit…”

His partner spread her hind legs a little wider apart to bare her entirety to him. It took an immense amount of trust for Pythia to allow John to see this part of her, and even now she seemed uncertain. She had sat up slightly, looking down her form at the tantalizingly close touch

The absol’s sex was hotter than he would have expected. His fingers probed her spade, making the absol wince at the rough feeling. John picked up on this and lessened the pressure he was exerting on it. Pythia had already begun to breathe faster below him, her eyes closing halfway.

John’s heart was in his throat as he swirled his fingers slowly across the entirety of his best friend’s pussy. The exotic sight of the black fresh was enrapturing, it stole his attention away from her face, the embarrassment still evident in the way she watched him work. The two were inexperienced, unsure of themselves, but they had each other to learn from.

Her smooth entrance began to dampen the more he touched her, slicking up his fingers with her feminine juices. At first, he was uncertain of this, but the noises she was making made it obvious she was enjoying it. John was no stranger to sex, at least, watching it; on the farm, pokemon breeding was as normal a facet as the farming. To have this opportunity though was intimidating to him, and if it were any other female, he didn’t think he would be able to perform.

Pythia had begun to moan even louder for him, the hint of a feral growl carried on it. Her hips had started to rock forward, pressing her closer to him. She didn’t want to seem too eager to meet him, but the movements of his calloused hand had become surprisingly gentle.

Her mother had always told her she would know when she found the right man, the one that she wanted to be her mate. Pythia had known it was John ever since they first kissed.

“John…”

“You’re so warm…”

She had felt the heat beginning to build in her stomach, the first sign that something was building. The pleasure had gone straight to her head, making her ears ring and her teeth grit together. Never had she felt such a grand sensation, but it wasn’t good enough for her.

“John…I want you to…to mate me…”

Her words stunned him. The declaration of her desire made him pull his eyes away from her groin. He inhaled deeply through clenched teeth; his fingers still pressed firmly against her damp folds. John wanted to question her, to ask if she really meant what she had said. It was an innocuous thought.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life, John…” She smiled at him; the sadness had completely vanished from her eyes. Now only desire remained, an almost desperate expression of her need for him. He answered it by beginning to remove his shirt, only slightly hesitant when he felt the cold chill of the night air. His abs were toned, standing out in an obvious six-pack against his stomach.

It would have been cruel of him to draw this out any longer, and he slowly drew his hands towards his pants.

He could feel her eyes on him as he began to work on unbuttoning his pants, his fingers fumbling the entire time. The audible gasp from her when she saw the bulge in his briefs didn’t make it any easier on him. When he had undressed down to his underwear, he knew she was expectantly waiting, and he took a deep breath.

There was silence when he revealed himself to her. He had always been unsure of his size, but he had no reason to worry about that. His manhood hung seven inches long, the tip a dark pink in coloration and a few noticeable veins running down the side. There was a small bush of brown hair surrounding the base of it, but he kept it trimmed back.

It was cold in the cave, but the only reason he shivered was due to the uncertainty of showing himself off to her. Pythia’s jaw had dropped, her eyes were as wide as a noctowl’s. It seemed so strange to see this part of him, to finally see what she had been waiting on for so long.

“I-Is it…is it okay?”

Her expression of disbelief was broken when he asked this, and she immediately giggled under her breath. One of her paws pressed to the front of her muzzle, the canid blushing brightly under her fur.

“O-Oh Arceus, John…it’s perfect…”

She found his fear to be comforting. It told her that she had no reason to worry about underperforming. Her heart was still beating quickly from the teasing touch of his fingers, and she leaned up to better face him. Her tail betrayed her, starting to wag back and forth quickly. With a glance from his hard manhood down to her own wet lips, she took a deep breath and spread her legs much like her mother had earlier in the night.

Pythia flinched on instinct when John moved over top of her, their lips meeting once more in a firm kiss. The absol felt his cock pressing between her legs, resting above her furry spade.

They stopped here for a moment, John trying to work up the courage to follow through with what they both wanted. The very last shred of his resistance was putting up a fight, telling him that somehow, someway, this was wrong. He need only look into Pythia’s reassuring eyes to know that his fears were unfounded, and he allowed his hips to drop.

He flinched initially at the wet, warm touch of it against his manhood, but after a momentary pause, he couldn’t resist rubbing himself against it. His hips pulled back and pressed forward slowly, the simple act making his back arch.

His face reddened while he did this, his hormones driving him on. He moved his hands from her hips to her flank, holding her steady. Their gazes met once more, and what he saw made him swallow hard; to see a female, especially a pokemon, so desperate for him made his manhood throb.

“I’m ready…” She reassured him, her tone sultry and welcoming. Her front paws had wrapped around his shoulders, holding him close to her. Pythia smiled at him before she gasped aloud.

John had moved his hips back, pressing his tip right to the center of her tight spade. The heat was growing stronger, her feminine juices already coating his erection from all the rubbing. They both fell silent at this moment, nothing left to say. Slowly, John began to push forward.

Her walls felt even softer than they had when he was grinding against them. His lips twitched before a low groan escaped him, the canid’s sex spreading wide, adjusting slowly to accept him. It felt amazing, and he hadn’t even pushed the entirety of his tip into her.

“Oh Arceus, Py…” He gasped, stammering under his voice in his urgency to satisfy the urges that were building up in him. His body demanded he kept pushing forward, and there was nothing he could do to stop himself.

“Oh, gees…” She whispered, tilting her head back and groaning as he began to move faster. Her paws twitched against his body, alluding to the jolts of pleasure she was feeling. There was a slight discomfort from being forced open like this, but it was vastly overshadowed by a growing sense of satisfaction. For so long she had dreamed of this moment, and now it was finally happening.

John pulled her closer to him, allowing her to tuck her head into the crook of his neck. He was beginning to grow hot from her proximity to her, her soft fur rubbing against his bare chest feeling absolutely heavenly. Both lovers groaned to announce the new, unexpected sensations they were feeling each time he buried another inch of himself in her.

Her sex clamped around him so tightly that he didn’t think she would allow him to pull back. It made his muscles tense on reflex and caused him to fight the urge to pull out of her mind-numbing tightness.

His slow penetration continued until he felt his balls pressed to her furry rear. The two gasped, looking down at each other in silence at the realization that they had done it. Pythia moaned for him and arched herself back against the blanket, offering more of herself up to him.

“Don’t stop…”

Her pleading request resonated with John. He was clumsy in his movements, but he still managed to begin to slowly extricate himself from her hot, humid depths. She moaned for him, low and keening as he did so. When he had pulled four inches out, he found himself desperately missing her tight squeeze.

This time, he pushed in faster, allowing their groins to smack together with a faint slap. Immediately, Pythia moaned for him, digging her claws into his shoulders. He couldn’t help himself, he pulled back and did it again, working up to a steady, consistent pace.

The cave filled with the sound of their lovemaking, from the squelch of Pythia’s wet spade to the eager grunts of the man above her. It was the most satisfying sensation John had ever experienced, compounded by the sight of the beautiful absol moaning for him each time he bottomed out in her. That he could make her enjoy herself, to see the difference in her emotions from earlier in the night let him know he had made the right decision.

Pythia’s warm juices completely coated his shaft now, even running down her tight, spread lips from her excitement. The absol’s claws were drawing pinpricks of blood from his shoulders, digging in so deeply that if he were to pull too far out of her he would risk deeper scratches. It made him wince, but the added pain reminded him of the feral nature of his mate.

Every few thrusts their lips would meet, their kisses different than the paltry display they had put on before. They were impassioned, deep and desperate. Their mouths opened hesitantly at first once more, little brushes of the tongue soon giving way to a much more provocative display.

She accepted his tongue into her mouth, her growls reverberating through their touch. She allowed him to explore her mouth, to shiver in awe at the feeling of sharp canine teeth. Her tongue was much coarser than his own. It was stronger, but she did not allow it to get in his way.

John was growing desperate in his thrusts, his hands roaming from her flank upwards, trying to find a suitable handhold on her. His movements had grown stronger now that he knew she could handle him. He put the full strength of his body into it, a body toned by years of hard farm labor. His manhood sawed in and out of her black sex, each time bottoming out back in her before she could voice her disapproval at being left empty.

Pythia accepted all of this. Pokemon lovemaking was usually a rough, uncourteous affair, and his almost unhinged passion awoke instincts in her she didn’t know she had. She would break their kiss, panting desperately in his face before slurping loudly and lewdly against his neck with her tongue. Her gasps and whines continued to reach a higher pitch with each movement until she didn’t think she could take it anymore.

“John!”

He wanted to keep going. He was desperate to keep enjoying the warmth of her body. It was not to be, however, as their first time was quickly coming to a head. His manhood had been twitching consistently in her, spreading his warm pre along her walls and slicking her up further.

Pythia was the first to reach that plateau of orgasmic pleasure. It shocked him how suddenly it came, as one moment her head was buried in his neck, and the next it was directed towards the roof of the cave.

Her howl sounded pure and crisp. It echoed off the stone walls, so loud that he was almost certain those in the village would be able to hear it. With it came a tightening of her walls, clamping around him like a vice in their desperation to keep him buried in her. The wave of hot, feminine juices coated his groin, the musky scent of a female pokemon marking him as hers.

That was all he could take. With one final thrust and a loud grunt, he bottomed himself in her for the last time. His grip on her became almost painfully tight as his balls drew closer to his groin, hot, thick jets of human seed firing into the absol’s depths.

Both lovers were left soaked in sweat, desperately panting, trying to catch their breath after the laborious experience. Their eyes met, neither able to believe that they had just done that.

John smiled at her weakly, suddenly exhausted after that. Pythia simply smiled back at him; the wagging of her tail was an incessant beat against his inner thigh. Neither had the desire to pull him out of her, so they allowed him to stay entrenched deep within her womanhood.

No words would have done them justice in describing what they had felt. John rolled them over slowly, pulling the absol to his chest. He would groan at the feeling of her spade tugging on him, the wiggling sensation of the canid getting comfortable drawing a few more beads of cum from his tip.

There was only one thing they could both think to say, one thing that wouldn’t ruin the grandeur of this moment.

“I love you, Pythia.”

“I love you, too, John…”

With that, John drew his blanket and gently pulled it over them. It encompassed them in a thin layer of warmth, but it was unnecessary. The absol’s warm fur would have been enough for John. With an outstretched hand, he caressed Pythia’s muzzle, admiring the beauty of his four-legged lover one last time before they drifted off to sleep together.

---

John woke sometime later when the morning light was beginning to stream in through the entrance to their little hollow. He shifted and grunted when he felt the heavy weight on his chest. Pythia hadn’t moved an inch but was cemented in place with her head resting on his chest. She breathed softly, still lost in her own dreams.

By now, John’s manhood had shrunk and fallen free of her. His head was almost spinning as he reached up to stroke her back, savoring her downy pelt under his hand. The events of the night before seemed like so many dreams he had before. It was so unreal to imagine, but here was the proof laying before him.

He was drawn out of his reprieve when he heard the distinct sound of a voice clearing from the entrance to the cave. His eyes widened when he saw the white-form standing with their back faced towards them.

“I always wondered what your little hideout looked like on the inside.” She spared a glance at the cave walls and their old drawings but didn’t allow her gaze to settle on the two of them. “I was always aware you came here to be alone, but I never wanted to intrude on a place you shared…”

“Agata…”

“I thought I would find the two of you here like this…” Agata chuckled under her breath and looked back over her shoulder at them. The older absol looked exhausted but happy. The hard-partying woman yawned and looked back over the rising sun. “I’m usually the only one up at dawn…this festival didn’t seem to be any different.”

John remained silent, biting down on his lip when he felt Pythia shifting on his chest. She yawned and looked up at him, gracing him with a soft, happy smile. She hadn’t noticed Agata yet and was in the midst of licking his lips when he shook his head quickly. Pythia was surprised by his reproach, although his reasoning for it was made clear when her mother began to speak again.

“I had hoped my daughter would find a mate and settle down.” She granted them the modesty of looking away from them as Pythia rolled off of him, John immediately pulling the blanket close to cover his naked body.

“M-Mom, I can…I can explain.”

Agata chuckled at her daughter’s worried tone and shook her head. “Nothing to explain. I would have been surprised if this ended any other way…why do you think I sent him to you?”

She allowed this truth to sink in, for Pythia’s muzzle to curl up in annoyance at her mother’s interfering. Caught with the boy she loved was the epitome of embarrassing, especially with her admission.

“The truth is,” Agata began, sighing heavily, “I don’t want to give this up. I love this town, the people in it…and I will admit that I love the attention I receive from playing in their festivals.” She brushed a paw against the ground in solemn reflection. “I would have allowed you two to sleep longer, but I didn’t want to risk you leaving town without her.”

Silence fell over the two young lovers, the realization of what she intended to say slowly starting to come to light. Pythia’s heart had begun to race, her expression begging her mother to tell her that she wasn’t joking with her.

“So, I apologize, my dear daughter. I will not allow you to take my role from me just yet. Maybe in a few years when I can no longer keep up.” She had begun to stand, stretching out momentarily and yawning once more. The absol was nonchalant in the opportunity that she presented her daughter, but she knew just how much her permission meant to her. “Before you leave town, I would request you come and see your mother…John, I expect you to take care of my daughter. I don’t want to see her lose any more of her blade.”

The sharp glance shot his way made him freeze. Even with his building, ecstatic joy, he knew that he had a duty to fulfill. He couldn’t be afraid of leaving the town, especially not when Pythia was at his side. He nodded quickly, stammering as he tried to work out something to say.

“This…thank you…thank you, so much…”

Agata shrugged and began to walk towards the exit. The sun caught her fur as it breached the entrance, the bright shades chasing away the gray that had come with age. The crown was still perched on her head, and she tilted her head to adjust it into place.

“It is the right thing to do. Go make your own future. Make each other happy…come back when you are ready. That is all that I ask.”

With a swish of her tail, Agata was gone. There was silence between the two before Pythia practically pounced on him. Their lips met, the absol unable to hold back the sounds of excitement she was making.

It was the greatest gift they could ever imagine being given. Their futures were unclear, open for them to decide. All they knew was that whatever fate they decided, it would hold the other in it. John grasped his lover and kissed her, knowing now that the only thing that would ever matter to him was the absol in his arms.

He would find a way to explain her addition to Quinn. If she had a problem with it, John wouldn’t allow that to stop him. They smiled at each other before Pythia blushed under her fur and began to rub up against him. John was confused at first, but when he felt the swell of his manhood rubbing against her furry groin, he quickly picked up on what she wanted. With a grin, he pulled her closer to him, fully intent on making up for lost time they could have had together.