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Where There's Smoke

Part 1

Mmm? Oh, hello there, you're the one, aren't you? The journalist who contacted me? Yup, could tell by the hungry look in your eye. Go on, have a seat and order yourself a drink. My treat. No no, it's not a problem—I insist, in fact! It'll take some of the edge off. No need to be all formal for this little meeting, and besides, we could be here a fair while.

Excuse me, miss…? Another screwdriver, if you please, and for my friend here… Ah, rum and cola, a classic, and a fine choice! Thank you.

Now, to business! You want to hear my story. Hope it'll be your big break? Come now, no need to act bashful about it, I'm well aware how the business works! I've had publishers nipping at my heels these past weeks, but you… I caught the fire from you. That hunger. That's why I agreed to this. I'll happily give you my little tale of adventure and woe, and you can decide for yourself if it's worth the ink, eh? Yes yes, you have my consent to record of course. Ah! Thank you, miss. Cheers, and to your health!

Where to start… With the accident, I suppose. Certainly not my proudest moment. How does a well-to-do businessman end up so shitfaced that he's dancing with a life-preserver on some dark side-deck of a cruise ship? I vaguely remember getting the cold shoulder from some pretty thing at one of the social functions, then wandering off by my lonesome with a third-too-many stiff drink in hand. Alcohol is ever the fool's go-to for rumination; you can quote me on that!

Anyway, I'm sure I reasoned out something like, "at least this one won't refuse a dance". Next thing I knew, I'd stumbled against the railing. A roll of the ship, perhaps, or more likely my own head. Perhaps a mad thought of a nice swim possessed my mind, or I simply overbalanced. Either way, I found myself plunging far, far down to those salty waves.

By some Arceus blessed miracle, I kept hold of that damned life preserver, and even more amazing, didn't get pulled into the propeller. Water was cold enough to knock a bit of sense into me. I probably yelled—my throat certainly hurt later once I'd sobered up—but who would hear a drunken "man overboard" over the thrumming of massive engines, the chatter and music of the evening, and that brisk sea breeze? Before long I was watching my cruise-liner sail off into the night.

What went through my head? That I was cold, and wet! Unreasonably angry, too. How dare they leave me behind, didn't they know who I was? Of course, no one knew, probably not for another day or so. With a passenger manifest in the hundreds, one lone traveler not present at breakfast doesn't immediately ring the alarm.

Still, luck must have figured she owed me because the moon hung bright and low over the water. Just enough that, after an hour or so of floating and stewing, my eye caught the island's outline in the distance. Survival instincts, thankfully, are stronger than drink and had me kicking for that barely visible haven while clinging to my reticent dance partner. By the time that shore loomed into a tangible perspective the moon was low and my legs felt like lead. Almost didn't notice when my knees hit sand: that's how numb things were below the waist. The lizard brain must have taken over again—dragged me kicking and screaming up onto the beach to pass out.

That's where things get interesting. When I woke up to the cruel sun punishing my hangover, that's when I first saw her.

***

My eyelids were glued shut. I tried to lift a hand to rub them, but it seemed to have gained a thousand pounds. A warm breeze coursed over my face, and the steady foosh-hiss of surf throbbed in time with my pounding head. I groaned, scrunched my eyes tighter, then dragged them open.

A shadow loomed over me, silhouetted with an umbra of brilliant light which felt akin to needles in my eyes. Was I going blind? I blinked. The shadow was still there, and in sharper focus. Two violet-hued eyes blinked back at me, another warm gust of air from its nostrils teasing my nose with a faintly sweet scent. I tried to shout but only a hoarse croak escaped.

The creature's pointed snout opened, revealing a long pink tongue, and loosed a gravelly hiss. An elegant, five-digited hand reached for me, sparking an icy rush of terror down my spine and galvanizing my right arm free of its paralysis to smack the creature's touch away. My effort to scramble away resulted in little more than ineffectual thrashing, as I became acquainted with the stiff lethargy in my limbs. My left leg and arm had gone numb from lying partially on top of them.

Its eyes narrowed, a lower, longer hiss rattling from its throat. It grabbed my wrist in a grip shockingly strong for such a delicate seeming limb and pinned it to the sand. With its free hand it reached out again and ran its fingertips down my face, seemingly fascinated by my short, dark beard. Its touch tickled, oddly gentle, even while the firm grasp on my wrist kept me pinned.

In the strange way of such things, the urge to laugh shook my chest as the recent events came into clarity in my still waking mind. Here I was, stranded on some beach in the middle of nowhere, damp, stiff and hung over, and some strange pokémon—my thoughts were now clear enough to assess that much—was stroking my face like a lover.

After a moment the pokémon released my wrist, apparently satisfied that I wasn't going to smack it again, and it sat back in the sand, allowing me a moment to collect myself. Squinting against the too-bright sun, I managed to sit up with a groan, the renewed throbbing behind my temples enough to churn my stomach. Every inch of me itched, sand and brine coating my skin. Pins and needles raced down my arm and leg as blood returned to them. The life preserver which had saved my skin lay discarded nearby in the sand, the pokémon prodding at it.

It wasn't an especially large creature, especially hunched over as it was. From my seated position, it couldn't have been more than a few inches taller than me. Slender, reptilian, it stood on two legs with muscular thighs and elegant lower limbs, a long tail curled behind it. Dark skin on its torso and face gave way to a violet underbelly marked with vivid pink patterns reminiscent of flames. That pointed muzzle turned towards me, slit-pupiled eyes evaluating as I rubbed feeling back into my arm and leg. I'd never seen the species in person before, but a hazy memory of some nature program sparked. Dazzle? No, Sa-something. Whatever it was, at least it didn't seem hostile.

Where had I landed myself? The beach wasn't overly long, perhaps thirty feet from the water to a treeline of dense tropical fauna. To either side the sand stretched out, the left following a sharp curve of the island and vanishing, while the right extended considerably further, ending in a rocky outcrop upon which incoming waves dashed themselves in plumes of spray. No way to tell how large the island might be, but at least it wasn't some desolate rock. Especially if it could support life.

Apparently bored of the life preserver, the creature left its inspection of the floatation device and returned its attention to me, darting closer in a sinuous motion. Without preamble, it grabbed at my unbuttoned, palm-tree patterned overshirt and tried to tug it off of my back.

"Hey!" I attempted to shake free of its grip but only succeeded in yanking the pokémon closer. It hissed, the sound loud in my ear, and smacked the back of my neck, aggravating my throbbing head.

"Stop that!" Rather than give up one of my few current possessions, I foolishly fought harder, trying to pry the pokémon's grip from the fabric. Its hiss ratcheted up in volume, its tail whipping out past my nose. A thin, purple smoke puffed into my face, and before I could react, I'd breathed it in—a scent like almond and cumin, with a vague bitter undertone.

I coughed once, twice. Blinked. What was this? The pokémon tugged at my shirt once more. It wanted the shirt? Why was I resisting? Why shouldn't I let it have whatever it wanted? I slipped free of the sleeves, allowing my reptilian companion to snatch it and leaving me only in my brine-stained white undershirt.

The creature crooned at me, running its slender fingers over my face—a reward for my compliance. I beamed, thrilled to have pleased her. Yes, certainly my generous benefactor was a “she", I could see that now as I gazed upon her exquisite form. How else could I serve her? Truly it was a gift to simply be in her presence, to take in her luscious visage. Anything, anything she desired—I would move heaven and earth to get it for her. She was putting on the shirt now, and didn't it look lovely upon her? So much more so than on my own shoulders. She let out a low, popping cry that stirred the heat in my chest—satisfaction.

A breeze kicked up, and abruptly my senses returned with the rush of fresh salty air. I collapsed to the sand, gasping. What the hell had she just done to me? I remembered the sensation—looking upon her with utter devotion and subservience, of her being all that mattered in the world—but details were blurred. How long had I been under her spell? A minute? Ten? An hour?

Her hiss drew me to lift my head, meeting her violet gaze. The men's shirt was comically oversized for her, billowing out in the breeze and hanging down well past her hips. Her tail lashed out, a fresh wave of fumes assaulting my nose. My poor overloaded nervous system must have had enough. My vision doubled for an instant. Then things grew fuzzy and, finally, dark.

***

Have you ever lost yourself? I mean truly lost yourself: not just some drug induced or alcoholic haze, or a momentary identity crisis. I'm talking about your entire being, mind body and soul, gone somewhere, subsumed by something that isn't you. In one sense, it's a terrifying thought. Speaking from experience, it is terrifying—though not in the moment for you are not aware that it is happening—but it is also freeing in a way that is difficult to fathom.

I'm sure it comes as no surprise to you, friend, that I am no outdoorsman, no expert in wildlife. So how then, you and many others have wondered, did a middle-aged office schlub from Castelia survive that god-forsaken island? French fry? No? Suit yourself. Can't top pub food, am I right? Certainly beats a cast-away's diet of fruit and the odd wrangled fish!

Now then, you, my intrepid journalist, surely already know what I learned later about the species that accosted me upon that beach. Salazzles have a unique way of getting what they want, an ability that grants them a degree of power over men of any species. And I, hapless, stranded fool, presented the offering of ideal victim to this particular wielder of said ability.

I do not mean to say she was malicious—oh no, for it is to her I owe my continued existence on this mortal coil—but nor can I see her as purely benevolent either. I have wondered much as to why she chose to offer aid to the piece of human flotsam that washed up on her shore, and the only conclusion I can offer is that she, for whatever reason, decided that I belonged to her, as the entire island upon which I had made landfall proved under her dominion.

Now, my friend, I warn you that this next bit of my tale is not for the faint of heart. I have never been one to perform in half-measures, and I would be remiss to leave out the sordid details. I won't blame you if you would rather pull back now, simply take the summary of my story and spin a tale of man's endurance over nature.

Ah, there's that fire in your eyes again! Good man. Very well, get yourself another drink and listen close.

***

I startled awake to the frigid sensation of cold water splashing across my face. Sputtering, I jerked up, raising a hand against further wet assault. Where was I? The beach had vanished, sand replaced by cool undergrowth and a dense canopy of trees overhead, sunlight dappling through the interwoven fronds, the sound of waves now distant. I sat next to a small pond, and in front of me crouched the salazzle, her tail lashing as she observed me with her head tilted to the side as if trying to solve the puzzle I presented. She still wore my shirt, and I didn't think I'd be getting it back.

Splashing. A shadow loomed from behind, and I yelped as another creature—this one massive and built like a furry tank—bent over me holding a large seashell in its two dinner-plate-sized paws. It upended the container over my head, drenching me once more in a fresh wave of spring water, washing away some of the brine and sand.

"Cut that out!" I yelled, once I'd shaken off the effects of being so rudely doused.

The creature grunted and shambled back to the pond to refill the shell, giving me a better look at it as it bent down to the water. This one I recognized; shaggy white and black fur covering a well-padded ursine body, thick limbs that looked like they could snap me in two, and a “he", judging by the tackle between his legs. A pangoro. He turned around holding the once more brimming shell and stumped back towards me, casually chewing a small bamboo stick gripped in his soft-featured muzzle and completely ignoring my stammered protests.

Another icy wave of water sluiced over my head, rinsing away the last of the brine and my dignity, and a low popping growl rattled from the salazzle. The pangoro retreated a step to let her examine me again. Was she giving him orders? Her tail twitched over her head, a series of raspy hisses escaping her. The pangoro grunted, picked up a large folded leaf set nearby and brought it over to me. He bent down, holding out the leaf and allowing it to unfold in his huge palm. A selection of berries lay inside, red, blue, and yellow and all fit to burst with delectable juice. I didn't hesitate to snatch a fat blue one the size of my fist, my hollow stomach making its needs heard in the presence of food.

The two pokémon watched as I devoured the berries, manners forgotten in my hunger. Before long, all three berries were reduced to seeds and stem, even the tart aspear which I'd never been the biggest fan of. Feeling a bit more alive, I inclined my head to my strange helpers.

"Thank you."

Neither responded, though the pangoro crossed his arms and grunted. They seemed content to let me be for now, so I decided to make use of the pond and crawled over to it. That water might have been the best thing I've ever tasted, so clean and crisp, washing the stagnant taste of my past two days from my mouth.

How long had it been? Judging by the sun it was getting on to late afternoon, so not quite twenty-four hours yet. Had my absence aboard the ship been discovered? I should probably see about making a camp on the beach, building a signal fire. All wonderful plans that I hadn't the faintest clue how to actually execute. I'd never even been camping, let alone fended for myself in the wilderness.

I stripped down and gave my clothing a rinse as well before realizing I'd need to let it dry. Getting into damp things held as much appeal as jumping back into the ocean. I spread them out on a rock and huddled next to the pool in nothing but my boxers, my arms clasped around my knees. My deck sandals were long gone, lost somewhere in the swim to shore.

Another low hiss caught my attention, and I turned around to find the salazzle standing right behind me, startling me to fall back on my ass. Her muzzle opened, loosing a small plume of violet smoke between her fangs, those sharp eyes flicking all over me in that calculating way of hers. She waved a claw at the pangoro, a smattering of poké-chatter passing between them, culminating in a deep grunt from the bigger 'mon. He stomped over, towering above the two of us, stooped down and, before I could back away, he'd scooped me up like a child with one arm beneath my knees and the other under my shoulders.

"Wait a minute, what are you doing?"

Naturally my protests fell on deaf ears. I wriggled but quickly ceased when the pangoro's grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but with a firmness that brooked no argument. Pressed into the dark thatch of the creature's chest, I nearly gagged on his pungent, animal musk. He started to walk through the jungle, those lumbering steps ponderous but inevitable, like being carried by a living mountain. Oddly enough, despite the smell, I felt a sense of safety in his grasp, that mighty grip relaxing once I showed the sense not to struggle. His warm, solid body pressed against my still damp and mostly bare one, the rise and fall of that barrel chest swishing plush fur across my skin. I didn't know where they were taking me, but I didn't fear my destination.

We walked for about twenty minutes on what seemed the barest hint of a trail, undergrowth shoved aside easily in the pangoro's wake as he followed behind his mistress. She darted ahead of us like a shadow flitting between patches of sunlight, slithering around roots and rocks and bushes as if they didn't exist and, every so often, pausing to look back at us with her muzzle half-parted in an expression like a sly grin.

Eventually we arrived at a mid-sized clearing deep in the heart of the jungle, a space where the trees had, for whatever reason, grown aside from one another. Perhaps thinner soil or some such. Much of the undergrowth seemed to have been cleared away, leaving a stretch of flattened ground covered in a carpet of fronds and vines.

The salazzle strode into the clearing on her hind legs like a queen returning to her castle. She made straight for the far side where a huge pile of dried fronds formed into a rough platform, climbed up and sprawled across it like a model reclining on a chaise lounge. My pangoro helper grunted, knelt, and dumped me onto the ground like a bag of laundry. I cried out, indignant if unhurt by the graceless manhandling. So much for his previously gentle nature! Brushing myself off and taking a breath, I stood and took stock of this new locale.

We weren't alone. Small shapes scuttled in the bushes surrounding the clearing, bright violet eyes peeking between the leaves, the occasional dark muzzle or tail poking into view. From the small glimpses I caught, they held enough similarities to the salazzle to surmise that these were the unevolved form of the same creature. I clutched myself, shivering despite the warm, humid air. All those feral eyes on my nearly-naked body prickled an anxious sense of vulnerability deep in my belly, my lizard brain reminding me just how helpless I was among these wild creatures.

Neither of the larger pokémon paid them any mind, however, and the salazzle seemed to have forgotten about me for the time being as well. She'd pulled off my shirt finally and held it in her claws, sniffing at it and pawing at the buttons. The pangoro lumbered over to another corner of the clearing, plunked himself down into something of a lotus position and closed his eyes.

Next to the salazzle's throne lay a veritable horde of things. Berries, nuts, and roots of all sizes and shapes piled atop platters of flat, wide leaves like the one the pangoro had presented to me earlier. Several hollowed-out stumps glistened—makeshift water barrels for her jungle abode. Other objects sat scattered between the assortments of food: oddly shaped pieces of driftwood, sparkling stones and shells, a plastic shopping bag, and what looked like a piece of a deck chair. My life preserver formed something of a centerpiece, the bright orange standing out among the greens and browns surrounding it.

I took a step towards the horde, then another. If I had any hope of being rescued, I needed that life preserver and I needed to get back to the beach, that much I knew. The bright orange could help a search party spot me. The salazzle remained preoccupied with my shirt, which she had now turned inside-out. For whatever reason, she seemed like she was trying to help me, so perhaps—

A guttural snarl froze me in my tracks, several steps from the horde. I blinked, peering in the direction of the fearsome sound. My eyes adjusted and fixed on another creature I'd previously overlooked, his camouflage within the shadows of the tree line almost perfect with his absolute stillness. The crouched luxray rose to his paws, amber eyes opening fully and piercing me with a menace none of the other pokémon had shown, black lips skinning back to show gleaming fangs as he rumbled another growl. His star-tipped tail lashed as he prowled forward, closing on me with singular purpose. Huge, powerful, an apex predator loping after his prey holding the assured ease that there could be no escape.

I was about to die. I froze, transfixed by the laser glare of the huge cat coming at me, instinct screaming at me to run while my body refused to obey. After all my luck leading to this point, keeping my soul inside my skin, here I was about to be torn asunder by a jungle predator, led here like a mareep to shearing.

A single, sharp hiss resonated across the clearing. The luxray halted, his rising growl dying on his fangs. Those intense red and yellow eyes didn't leave mine, but his ears flicked. Another hiss, followed by rapid poké-chatter from the direction of the throne. The luxray snarled, yowled, shook his mane, then subsided at a final popping growl from the throne. He turned tail and stalked back to his resting spot as if I were suddenly of no more interest than a strange stick, though that star-tipped tail lashed up and aside in a very deliberate way, granting me a good look at his plump balls and sheathed cock as if to say, "and here's what I think of that."

For a long moment I could only stand in place, trembling, my heart pounding, until the strength of adrenaline drained, dropping me down like a puppet with cut strings. I huddled up, sweat drenched and gradually seizing control of my internal gibbering. She'd saved me again, this time from one of her… what, lackeys? Friends? I hadn't a clue how pokémon hierarchies operated.

She sat watching me again, sitting up now but serene and apparently unperturbed by the luxray's aggression. She had my shirt wrapped around her forelimb now like some odd accessory, and her long, lithe tail swished about, a hint of violet smoke rising from its tip. No question of who was in charge here, though the 'why' remained elusive. Was she simply so much stronger than them that they obeyed? No, that didn't seem right, even with my limited knowledge. A different factor held sway here for such utter and unquestioned loyalty. Something to do with how she'd influenced me earlier probably, though aside from the bits of smoke coiling around her, she didn't seem to be making any effort to actively force her subjects into line. What then? Simple respect? An adherence to a crafty leader who organized their little band of jungle outlaws?

I glanced at the horde again. Just then, one of the smaller lizards skittered from the bushes carrying a berry, which it placed on an appropriate pile of similar fruits. It paused, looking to the throne. The salazzle peered down, tilted her head to the side and let out a short hiss, her expression softened into that half-lidded pleasure. The smaller 'mon cackled a reply, wriggled its tail at her and retreated back to the company of its fellows in the underbrush. Of course. This wasn't some communal treasury, this all belonged to her. I'd transgressed by presuming to approach it without leave. The luxray had played the role of guardian, and she'd given the order to stand down rather than tear me to shreds.

The question remained: why?

***

So there I was, surrounded by wild pokémon and with barely a scrap of clothing to my name, uncertain of my status or the intent of my hosts. Was I an honoured guest? A curiosity? A pending sacrifice to some hitherto unknown deity? Was I captive or free to come and go as I pleased?

It didn't seem wise to test further boundaries, following the little showdown with that luxray, and I still lacked a plan, though you can bet the old wheels were starting to turn. I might be no ranger, but one doesn't successfully navigate the world of handshakes and boardrooms without a certain acumen. My current situation bore the promise of easily obtained food and water at the very least, along with protection against other wild denizens of that remote atoll, and I wasn't prepared to abandon such luxuries to fend for myself just yet. At some point, I would need to find my way back to the beach and work on a means of signalling rescuers, but for the present I would count my blessings.

So, mirroring my friend the pangoro, I sat down and studied my strange companions, waiting to see what might transpire, or what instruction might be given. Night approached on swift wings, a daily event one rarely remarks on that bears a primal terror out in the untamed heart of nature. Have you ever experienced the wilds after sundown? Even on a small island, the jungle comes alive with odd and unsettling cries, uncanny shadows of trees looming large and monstrous, while only the moon and stars grant their cold light, and every rustle of a bush, every glitter of animal eyes could signal an ambush. It's a place as alien to humankind as the surface of the moon or bottom of the ocean.

As I bore witness to this oncoming eventide transformation, a fresh stir rippled throughout our little commune. You see, my hosts had their own ritual to perform, one my vulnerable and lost self was scarcely prepared for, yet one that shed more light on my predicament. I hope you are well girded, my friend! For here is where things get risqué...

***

I must have dozed off slightly while sitting and pondering there, as the sudden hissing screech that shattered the jungle air scared me half to death. I looked up and found the source of the racket to be none other than my benefactress, standing tall on her throne amidst the lengthening shadows, her head tilted to the darkening, purple-streaked sky. After sounding off with such vigor, she dropped down from her perch and sauntered over to the food horde, picked out several choice offerings, then returned to her seat to munch them at her leisure.

This must have been a signal to the rest of her little tribe. The pangoro rose and approached next to pick out his dinner, while the smaller lizards in the bushes rustled about in a frenzy. Before the pangoro withdrew from the horde, a new visitor appeared, detaching himself from the treeline with such elegance that he seemed to appear out of thin air, startling me yet again (yes, a running theme I know). A grand specimen of a sceptile—even in the dimming light I noted his sleek physique and full-bodied tail of leaves. He paid me no mind, either deeming me beneath his notice, or having previously assessed me while I was unaware of his presence, and he exchanged what looked like cordial small talk with the pangoro while they picked out their respective meals.

Where had the luxray gone? It took a moment to pick him out, huddled up in the shadows and already devouring something. Fish, from the look of it. How had he managed that? Were there streams or ponds with aquatic life on this island, or had he taken from the bounty of the ocean itself?

My stomach protested at the thought of food, the little meal from the afternoon long since past. As the pangoro and sceptile withdrew from the horde and took up positions nearer the salazzle's perch, I eyed the offerings on display. Would I be permitted now to approach or would I be warned away once more? None of the smaller lizards made moves to claim prizes from the pile, and the activity in the bushes seemed to suggest they were enjoying their own repast. This bounty, then, was reserved for the inner circle, which surely didn't include me.

A short, sharp hiss caused me to look to the salazzle. She was halfway through a plump aspear, its juices running down her claws and muzzle. Violet eyes fixed upon me, her claws flicking in the direction of the food. Go on, with my blessing, the message couldn't be clearer. I wasn't about to argue, darting in to grab several recognized fruits for myself, and take some gulps of water from the hollowed stumps. The flavour came a bit musty and the water wasn't cold, but it did the job and refreshed me nonetheless.

Still unsure of my place in this little hierarchy, I mirrored the pangoro and sceptile and took a seat several meters from the salazzle, a bit further than either of them. None raised objections or commentary on my presumption, though when I glanced over to the luxray I met with an unsettling piercing glare. That one made no secret of his feelings, and I wasn't keen to challenge him, so I quickly dropped my gaze and focused on the food.

Throughout our shared meal, the pangoro and sceptile exchanged little grunts and gestures, while the bushes and further jungle remained alive with chatter. What sort of conversations did they have? It seemed a lively discourse, whatever it was. Both of the larger 'mon eventually procured second helpings, and I was tempted to do the same in case I wouldn't have the chance later, but decided against it. Holding onto food for a private stash instead of immediately eating it seemed like it might offend my hosts.

Above it all, the salazzle reclined on her throne, her tail lazily swishing while she ate and watched. With the encroaching night I didn't notice right away, but then the growing sweetness in the air tickled my nose and I registered the faint violet haze curling through the clearing. Every swish of the salazzle's tail sent up a fresh plume, and every breath came heavier with her strange almond-cumin perfume.

Unlike my previous encounter with the stuff, I didn't fall immediately to its influence. This… ability of hers, I knew it could affect my mind, alter my perception, and yet I had no desire to back away and seek clearer air. Like a drunk who reaches for a fresh glass, I sat placid with my meal and breathed deeply. Why should I seek escape? All was well, and wasn't it so peaceful here? Pleasant, even. I had fresh and delicious fruits to eat and, while sitting outside in only my boxers certainly wasn't normal, the evening air retained tropical temperance, the trees providing protection from the ocean breeze. I honestly needed to get out of the city more—the air here was so clean, and just look at those stars! The spangled sky and the brilliant rising moon cast enough cool illumination to grant even my eyes some reasonable night vision.

The other pokémon were rising to their feet now. Purple smoke blanketed the area around the salazzle's throne, she herself lounging with a subdued air of expectant excitement, her face shadowed while her supine body lay highlighted in a beam of silver moonlight, those violet eyes peering half-lidded through a veil of fog. So beautiful, truly a queen, and one so benevolent to take me in and care for me. How could I repay her kindness? Anything she asked, I would throw myself at the task with all my strength.

Soft footfalls on the grass—the luxray was padding closer, a jolt of terror spearing through my hazy contentment, fight-or-flight raising me to my feet. But, the big cat stalked right on by, joining his fellows in closer proximity around the throne to wait upon their mistress. I took a step. Should I join them? Could I? I wanted to. Ached to be closer to her, to bask in her beauty… But fear threw caution on my desire. I had no wish to meet with the luxray's ire.

She loosed a soft hiss and gestured to the pangoro, beckoning him closer. She slid down to meet him at the base of her throne, the ursine towering over her almost double her height, and more than twice around, yet clearly she held control. A claw rested on his belly, stroking through the thick pelt of fur and coaxing out a rumble. Some exchange passed between them, little grunts and hisses, while heavy gouts of smoke coiled up around them. Her caresses drew lower, those dextrous claws sliding down his belly until they reached his groin, where a fat, glistening, pink head of flesh poked free from the pangoro's hefty, dark-furred sheath.

A little popping cry rose from her as she tilted her face back to look up at him, violet eyes half-lidded and a joyous pride clear in her open-mawed grin. He didn't move, only grunting when she took hold of his emerging length and awarded him several two-handed strokes, her agile digits massaging their way up and down that girthy ursine member. I watched transfixed while she pleasured him, an industrious experience to her actions tempered by languid enjoyment as she teased him up to full mast, a substantial length poké-cock twitching in her grip that looked about as thick as my wrist.

A wave of heat flushed through me—not shame at observing this intimate act of feral passion, but chagrin for my own inadequacy. This suitor, this pinnacle of a male… He pleased her with his assets. He had much to offer her, whereas I could barely hope to stand in his shadow. Even now she brought her claws to her lips, suckling them clean of his musky juices, claiming them for herself and voicing a popping growl of lustful approval. His indifference spoke to his control, that he would only act at her behest rather than throwing himself upon her to care for his own raging desires.

But then, after a final loving caress of the pangoro's twitching shaft, she dismissed him, turning him about with a lecherous slap on the ass. She beckoned to the luxray next as the pangoro lumbered off and plunked down nearby, the ursine's unattended erection standing stiff and proud between his spread thighs.

Had he displeased her? No, surely she didn't find him lacking, and while his posture bore tension there was no defeat. Part of the ritual then, or some game she played. One huge paw descended and picked up where the salazzle had left off, my large friend stroking himself at a leisurely pace and maintaining his arousal, occasionally rolling his sizable balls in between tending his meaty shaft. I've been in my share of changing rooms, but never have I felt so intimidated by another man's endowment. Our eyes met, and he may have smirked, though it could have been a trick of the moonlight and his nonchalant chewing on that bamboo stick. Yet, he didn't flaunt himself at me, merely turned back to the action happening in the center while continuing to masturbate.

The luxray was receiving similar treatment, though our mistress now brought her tongue into play, bending down behind the feline and coiling her forked appendage around his exposed shaft. Deep, rumbling purrs rose from the electric cat, his claws sinking into the ground as she lapped and nuzzled and teased. Little sparks drifted up from his mane, turning the violet haze into clusters of mini thunderheads and lighting up the lewd display. Her tongue slid higher, tasting his balls before settling under his tail, drawing a fresh yowl as she explored the surely sensitive opening, keeping her claws wrapped snug around his member to hold him still.

A moment oozed past, the salazzle taking her time tonguing the luxray's ass until he shuddered, and she withdrew so quickly I wondered if he'd inadvertently shocked her. But, no—she didn't reprimand him, merely licking her lips and giving another dismissive slap on the rump, sending the quivering feline away in favour of her next paramour. The electric-type stalked off, pointedly ignoring the other males, and flopped down nearby, raising his hind leg in that curiously flexible nature of felines and bending down to lap at his exposed junk. His tail lashed, belying an agitation far removed from the pangoro's placid self-pleasure.

Now the sceptile newcomer presented himself, the two lizards embracing amidst a cloud of smoke so thick only their respective heights allowed me to tell one from the other. Heavy breaths rose into the warm night air, provocative movements stirring the sweet violet fog into fantastical shapes. The outside jungle faded from perception, our little clearing forming a hazy bubble of lust and desire. Purple and green shapes undulated against one another. A swirl cleared, revealing her thighs gripping the sceptile's graceful long taper, her tail coiling up over her back as she ground his smooth shaft between her legs, the pointed tip peeking out and glistening with a bead of pre. Then they were gone again, mere phantoms in the mist, leaving us onlookers to burn with envy and arousal.

I wanted to charge in, seize her and indulge all the fantasies running through my head. The tent in my boxers threatened to burst free of the tiny button holding it together. My body needed her; she was the only one who could quench this inferno in my loins. But, another held her gaze, and even the screaming instinct to throw caution to the winds and fight for my right to claim her cowered in the face of the larger male currently wooing her. Self-preservation trumps libido, it seems, at least sometimes.

An agonizing eternity of titillating exhibitionism later, and the sceptile tottered free of the smoke, a rapturous smirk on his face while his elegantly tapered cock dripped like a faucet onto the grass. Dark claws thrust free of the fog, followed by the salazzle's pointed muzzle, and her violet eyes fixed on me with single-minded intensity. I was already moving before she beckoned, racing into her arms like a man possessed.

She crooned to me, claws resting on my hips and pulling me close. I shuddered, her touch electric—an unspoken validation of existence that rattled through my core. She didn't care about my middle-aged flabby gut, or my small ears, or the weird mole under my left nipple. She saw past the flaws, the human imperfections. She saw me for me, as something she desired. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, I would seek to provide. I belonged to her, and pleasure was hers to grant or deny as she saw fit.

My boxers presented a puzzle. She sniffed my crotch, a low hiss rising up as she picked at the cloth. Taking this as permission I slid them down, heedless of my nakedness in this wild place. After all, this was the desire of my mistress, and why should I be embarrassed to comply? A hum rattled from her throat—approval, acceptance—and my knees nearly gave out as she gripped my cock. So warm… Bumpy, pebbled skin teasing over my throbbing flesh, smearing bubbles of pre across my straining tip… Sweet and spicy aromas dancing in my nose, underscored by a thick heady soup of lust… Dextrous claws tickling my balls, teasing them tight to my body and winding the tension in my loins higher and higher… Her snout pressing close to inhale my scent, heated breath washing over my quivering erection and that forked tongue flicking out to stroke across my tip—

It was too much. All semblance of control broke free, the dam inside me exploding beneath a furious crash of ecstasy. A popping cry rang out, but I was gone, miles away on a cloud of nirvana, gasping and firing my seed wanton into the air, spurt after spurt coaxed from my pent-up loins by the light and skillful touch of this reptilian goddess. My hips gyrated in a fitful samba, and some deep instinct had me floundering to grip my throbbing member and prolong my orgasm, jerking myself like a teenager discovering nudie mags for the first time while I painted the ground.

Moments later my glorious high faded, hurling me down to earth and awareness as one. I was on my knees, panting, sweating, my softening cock slippery and flopping in my still pumping fist. I forced my hand away from my shaft, blinking away the wild euphoria as aftershocks sizzled through my groin, hypersensitivity lending the vapor-laden air a sticky thickness around my crotch.

My mistress stood several paces away, eyes narrowed to slits while her tail lashed the air, spewing smoke. She'd withdrawn, disappointed by my lack of control. Her tongue flicked at me, a single disapproving hiss stinging my ears, then she was gone, whirling about and stalking over to the pangoro.

The fading heat of desire rolled into the burn of shame for my premature ejaculation. I slumped, staring down at the lines of my seed in the grass, a moment of clarity ringing out through the haze. Had I just masturbated like a madman… for a pokémon?

Then that thought slipped away, buried in the tumult of stronger feelings while my gasping breaths drew in fresh doses of salazzle pheromones. I'd failed her. I'd been granted my chance and squandered it. Now I was relegated to the sidelines as she mounted her chosen lover, the pangoro grunting, self-assured that he had always been her first choice. She straddled his cock, bracing herself on his chest while she wriggled into position, and as that bulbous head found its proper place between her thighs, she shot a look over her shoulder at me so full of haughty disdain that I nearly wept.

The pangoro's paws found her hips, steadied her, and as one, they moved, a joint cry of pleasure rumbling from the pair as he plunged deep into the smaller 'mon. I stared, fascinated by the way her comparatively tiny body swallowed up his huge shaft, her raised tail offering a wonderful view of lewdly spread lips, sticky fluids squeezed out and rolling down the ursine's manhood, easing his entry. Scaled hips met furred crotch with a meaty smack, those dark, turgid balls stuffed against her stretched opening while she squealed ecstatic encouragement to her huge partner.

Theirs weren't the only lewd noises ringing out through the evening air. My eyes widened at the sight of the luxray posed submissive, his chest on the ground with his hips raised, proffering his rear to the less-than-tender affections of the sceptile pounding away at him. Despite the yowling racket raised by the feline, his throbbing erection bounced between his legs with each of the big reptile's thrusts, a steady stream of kitty pre dripping to the grass. They were too preoccupied with each other to pay any mind to me or the copulating pair several meters away, and tiny sparks sputtered free of the squirming luxray's mane and lashing tail to lend firefly light to the little orgy.

I plopped down, addled and surrounded by the sights, sounds, and smells of sex, my body responding the only way it could to such a display—with horny alacrity. The only course of action was to throw myself in, allow myself to wash away in the lustful tides, to partake in the feral revelry and enjoy nature's erotica to its fullest.

And so I did. I masturbated until my cock ached, played voyeur to my host's trysts until exhaustion overtook me. The pairings shifted, though all at the behest of our salazzle madame. The pangoro she had chosen as her primary lover for the evening, and she had him twice—first riding him to completion, then allowing him to take her on her back, her legs held up in his mighty paws as he railed her with enough force to send shudders up and down my body while I watched. Her hissing squeal when she came was the sweetest music, the knowledge that our mistress had been pleased swelling up within me, even if I hadn't been the one to grant her that release.

The luxray and sceptile switched places, the feline humping the big lizard's mouth while the pangoro took position behind him and pushed inside the cat's stretched and dripping tailhole, earning fresh screeches from the electric-type that seemed a mix of pleasure and pain. No doubt, even with the previous stretching and generous lubrication provided by his former lover, the pangoro's girth promised to ruin any hole improperly prepared. Even still, the three moved with a precision that suggested this wasn't their first attempt at such an orientation, and before long the pangoro's hips sat flush with the blue feline's, shared rumbles of male delight rolling above the wet, squishing cacophony of sexual congress. The salazzle observed their shuddering, heaving threesome from her throne, her long fingers plunging inside her drooling snatch until she tensed up, loosing a long sigh as a fresh wave of juices ran down her claws.

Through it all, the heavy fog never abated, fresh plumes rolling up to replace the dissipated clouds, ensuring we remained wrapped in this cocoon of debauchery until she saw fit to release us.

I fell into exhausted sleep before she did.

***

And there it is, my friend, the main attraction of my little story, the salacious news fit for any tabloid headline, eh? Oh come now, you don't need to make excuses, I know how the world works! Sex sells, and the more scandalous, the better! Mine is hardly the first such tale of congress between human and pokémon. Really—and yes, you can quote me on this—the whole taboo seems a bit silly if you really think about it. After an experience such as mine, it's impossible to deny that pokémon fuck, and they do so as often—if not more—as we do. Moreover, they know what they're doing alright! Who are we to say we're so superior, that they are less deserving of pleasure, or that we're some special class of being removed from the natural world?

But, I digress. You didn't come here to listen to me rant about the merits of poképhilia or rail against the prudish and outdated moral codes we subscribe to. There's still more to my story of course. You're probably wondering how I felt afterwards. Did I feel shame? Regret? Satisfaction?

The next morning, if I'm completely honest, I mostly felt worn out, and beset by a growing resolve. You see, I woke in something of a pile, squeezed between the pangoro and the sceptile. I had no recollection of assuming this joint sleeping arrangement but, waking up to the warm rays of tropical sun peeking through the trees while my new friends slumbered next to me, thick fur and smooth hide brushing against my naked body… An odd sense of peace and safety settled over me. I had no room for shame. I'd been accepted into this strange little tribe, and even while we lacked shared language, I felt more included than I have in any team, social group, or workplace. There's another quote for you. Says something about our society, doesn't it?

Still, I didn't truly belong there, and I had a regular life to return to, didn't I? With survival needs met by my stroke of good fortune, my next steps had to aim towards rescue. A fire—one of the keys to survival, and perhaps retrieving my clothing. Not for modesty, that train had long left the station, but for some protection against the elements, and as a reminder of civilization.

Before long my companions began to stir, freeing me to move into the bushes and take care of morning needs. Their day began with languid torpor belying the previous night's activity—or perhaps because of it. Breakfast was shared out less formally than dinner, though of course our mistress salazzle chose her meal before any other, and I realized as we ate that another important task lay before me. After the intimacy we had shared and the hospitality they'd shown, I couldn't simply think of these pokémon as nameless members of their species; especially given the prospective amount of time I might spend with them.

You might think it presumptuous. After all, I wasn't their trainer or master. However, it wasn't an act of conquest or an assertion of my will, but a recognition of their sapient autonomy and a desire to elevate them in my own perception from purely bestial creatures. They'd seen me and accepted me, and I wanted to afford them the same courtesy. So, the pangoro I named Albert, as his laconic friendly demeanour reminded me of a co-worker I'd known long ago. The feisty luxray gained the moniker Ronan, after the acerbic hero of that action series, Highwayman. You know the one. The sceptile presented a bit of a mystery still, and I ended up calling him Tobias for no other reason than I'd always liked the name.

As for our delightful madame, the name Violet seemed so utterly suggested by her markings and demeanour, that I barely considered any other choice. Her eye fell upon me while we ate, and the calculation in her expression reasserted the reality of who controlled my fate. You might think that a terrifying thought, and you would be right, except for her lack of malevolence. I was a prize to her—an exotic creature she'd found and laid claim to, and while I'd disappointed her last night, she still wanted me as part of her little harem.

My duty then was clear: alongside my own goal of seeking rescue, I needed to prove my usefulness and retain Violet's good graces.

***

After breakfast, a rapid exchange passed between Violet and Albert, resulting in the pangoro giving a shrug, grunting, and sauntering over to me. He bent down, gently circled my arm in a massive paw and tugged me to my feet, much the way one might lead a child by the hand. I followed without resistance, and he let go as he led the way into the jungle.

Several steps past the line of bushes marking Violet's clearing, a new problem reared its head. I yelped and fell to my knees, wincing at a sharp pain in my left foot. A bit of tree debris bearing a pointed nub had sunk into my heel, blood oozing up around the puncture. Grimacing and cursing, I extracted the tiny piece of wood and glanced up as Albert's shadow fell over me. My appointed guardian stared down, his jaw working his ever-present bamboo shoot while he inspected my injury. He'd likely never seen a creature so fragile as to fall to a mere stick!

Seeking to put a brave face on, I rose, favoring my left side a bit but otherwise resolved. I was a grown man, after all! I made to push past Albert and continue on our way, but he caught my arm, arresting me and looking me up and down.

"It's fine," I said, my voice cracking a bit from lack of use. "I'll manage." Another problem for me to solve. The boxers I'd reclaimed and donned offered little armour against the jungle. Maybe I could—

Without warning, he seized me around the hips and swept me up into his arms once more, ignoring my cry of protest. Off we went, the pangoro stomping through the trees without a care, carting me along like an invalid. I cursed at him at first, demanding to be put down and finding inventive comparisons for the heavy aroma of his musk, then subsided to grumble as my invective fell on deaf ears. Wasn't this off to a fine start? How could I prove my usefulness if I couldn't even walk?

Before long we arrived back at the little pond, and Albert finally let me down to the softer, grassy earth. The pain in my foot had subsided, but I took care to wash out the little wound and pushed away the encroaching thoughts of who-knows-what sort of bacteria that might afflict the injury.

My clothing luckily remained where I'd left it, and after drinking my fill from the pond I dressed, feeling slightly better for the added protection of cargo shorts and undershirt. Albert meanwhile was harvesting berries from one of the trees, and as I looked closer I realized almost all of the trees around the pond bore some kind of fruit. The pangoro moved methodically, utilizing his height to pluck berries from the higher clusters, and piling them neatly at his feet. This then must have been the purpose of our journey, not merely to allow me to reclaim my things. Aha! An opportunity! I could help, except…

Albert seemed to realize at the same time, glancing over at me and halting his harvest with a gusty sigh. He'd already accumulated enough berries to fill even his mighty arms, but he'd never be able to carry both this bounty and a useless human. The pangoro grunted something in his own tongue and stomped over to drink from the pond, perhaps questioning how upset Violet would be were he to leave me behind or running logistical calculus against the problem.

My eye settled on the trunk of one of the trees. There! This specimen grew in graduated segments, little spurs of wood extending from its trunk like a palisade. I walked over to it, mindful of my step, and tugged on one of the spurs, finding it sturdy but pliable. A bit of wiggling, some leaning against it with my weight, and I managed to snap it free with a triumphant, "Aha!" A second followed in short order, and I snatched up these materials and set them on the rock where I'd dried my clothes. Now, how to secure them?

Albert watched me with a curious tilt to his head while I cast about for something suitable. No obvious candidates lay among the bushes or ground plants, and the grass here wasn't the long-stemmed variety that might be woven into something useful. I could tear strips from the undershirt or my boxers perhaps, but that seemed a last resort. Across the pond, I caught sight of some creepers growing about the upper limbs of one of the berry trees, bright red flowers on their stalks. Perfect! I walked over to them and pointed up at the vines, making grabbing motions until Albert took the hint and sauntered over to assist me. He tugged down a runner of the climbing plant and helped me snap free a good length of greenery about as thick as my forefinger.

"Thanks," I said, getting a grunt in reply. He seemed to understand the sentiment if not the words.

I stripped the vine of leaves and flowers, and used an edge of the rock to cut its rubbery length to size. It took a bit of time, perhaps half an hour, with some fiddling and a good deal of patience, along with several failed attempts, but in the end I'd fashioned a rough pair of sandals.

Slipping into them, I stood and grinned at Albert, as proud as if I'd just closed a major business deal. My first true act of self-sufficient survival! They were a bit loose, and the vine wrapping made for unsteady footing, but they'd serve to armor my feet against the jungle floor, and the curved wooden bark proved surprisingly comfortable too.

I walked to the fruit pile and began to gather up the berries, when another idea took form. Perhaps I could provide another service to my generous hosts. I might be a city dweller through and through, but I still held the knowledge of civilization at my fingertips. Albert loomed over me, his dour expression lightened now with my newfound mobility. I caught his arm and pointed at some of the wide frond branches up above. They were perfect for what I had in mind.

The pangoro grunted and stomped over to the tree. These branches proved too high up for even his reach, but with an agility belying his bulk the ursine pokémon scaled the thick trunk and easily tore off several healthy boughs, tossing them down for my inspection. I seated myself and began to weave the thin, supple leaves together, turning their fibres into a rough mesh. The fronds bore a thin fuzz and a waxy skin that made the task easier, as if they'd grown with the intent of forming rough goods. Experimenting with different kinds of securing knots yielded one that should serve my purpose and, as the sun rose higher overhead, my idea began to take shape.

Albert seated himself next to me, watching with rapt attention as my inexperienced hands crafted. He grabbed a berry and snacked, sticky juices dribbling over his chin and paws, and I took the queue to grab one for myself. Its sweet flesh proved a refreshing mid-morning repast, and while I worked I started talking to Albert. I told him about my life back home, my high-pressure marketing work in Castelia, and of the fateful events which had led to my presence on this island. One-sided conversation to be sure, punctuated only by the odd grunt from the pangoro, but my heart warmed further to my laconic guardian, his attentive ear proving more amiable company than most of my colleagues back home.

By the time the sun shone more overhead I'd managed to fashion a rough net sling, and I demonstrated its purpose to Albert by loading up the remaining berries into its pouch. His eyes widened at the revelation, and he took the hint to gather more fruit until my freshly made accessory bulged with a colourful crop. I worried that my handiwork might split at the seams when he hoisted it up in a single paw, but it proved sturdy enough and allowed us to haul back twice what we might have carried by hand.

Thus burdened we set off back to the clearing, Albert leading the way and forging a path while I shuffled behind him, mindful not to lose or break my new footwear. Unlike the net sack, these accessories seemed on the fragile side. Nonetheless, I wore a foolish grin, elated by my successes in cast-away handicraft. Other ideas were already percolating on how I might cobble together additional useful things from the jungle foliage.

When we returned to the camp, Albert went straight to Violet with the bulging net and showed her the fruits of our combined labors. A rapid exchange of poké-speech followed, the salazzle leaping up from her throne and inspecting first the net, then darting over to me and dropping down to peer at my new sandals.

Her forked tongue flicked, that whip-like tail lashing back and forth, her eyes narrowing. Was she about to demand my footwear for herself? Then she stood on her hind legs and scrutinized me, her head tilting side to side. A clawed hand reached up and lightly caressed my cheek, a soft croon rising from her throat while a thin plume of smoke coiled from her maw. Despite the little puff of aphrodisiac fog my mind remained clear, and still my heart swelled in my chest, her clear approval stirring me up like that of a desired lover who is so far out of your league as to be unobtainable. I'd proved myself more than a burden! With any luck and a hefty bit of innovation I'd manage better feats, and perhaps earn additional favour with my benevolent hosts.

But, I also needed to work on a means of rescue.

Throughout the rest of the day Albert and I made several more trips into the jungle, visiting different patches of fruit trees and harvesting a sizable bounty each time. Most of it went into Violet's horde, but two were added to a secondary stockpile hidden in a fallen tree near the clearing, this locale surrounded by the scurrying grey and black forms of the smaller lizards.

These common worker denizens of the tribe largely ignored us, going about their own business with little more than the odd hiss or glance in our direction. While it seemed Violet and her inner circle mostly left these creatures to their own devices, the act proved them still under her protection and purview. Of course! I was a fool for not seeing it earlier. These must be her offspring! But by which father? I glanced at Albert. Was his seed compatible with hers? I knew pokémon pairings could be odd, but the notion seemed ridiculous. Tobias the sceptile then, surely. Given the erotic performance last night, Violet held complete sway over her sexual partners, and the little scaly scamps rustling through the jungle were the natural result of these lustful trysts.

A lot of lustful trysts. Counting them was impossible but, if I had to guess, there must have been over thirty! Unless her species was special in that regard, didn't pokémon typically only have one offspring at a time? At this rate, the little island would eventually be overrun by horny lizards. Would I still be here to see that happen?

Albert took us back to the main camp before sunset, this time with a fresh haul of water from the pond, the big pangoro carting the sloshing load in one of the hollowed stumps like it was nothing. This time, Tobias lounged in the clearing near Violet's throne, while Ronan sat grooming his paws near the horde. Violet, surprisingly, was nowhere to be seen. The luxray's eyes fixed on me as we entered, and goosebumps rose on my arms as that piercing gaze stripped through any pretense I might have held, searching for duplicity.

Apparently what he saw satisfied him, however, as he returned to his cleaning with a snort and a flick of his tail. I was beneath his notice, was I? Fine by me, though I returned the sentiment by turning my back on him and plopping to the grass next to Albert once he'd put down his burden. Two could play the disdain game!

Much like the night before we settled into a comfortable evening wind-down, and before long Violet strode into the clearing like a queen sweeping into her chambers. She immediately moved to the horde and sounded off her hissing signal, giving her blessing for dinner to begin before taking up her own desired buffet.

While we ate, hazy images of the previous night's debauchery roiled through my mind, my gaze flicking between my pokémon companions. Would it happen again? How should I conduct myself, now that I knew what to expect? A languid soreness from the day's labours settled in my shoulders and thighs, my feet in particular aching from walking on my improvised sandals. Sex should have been the furthest thing from my mind, yet my libido rose in anticipation as I recalled the exotic, pheromone-laced hedonism.

Did I want to be part of that? I'd been caught up by surprise and fallen prey to Violet's psychotropic smoke before, but now I had a choice. I could withdraw from the clearing, stay out of the wild orgy and maintain a semblance of civilization… Or I could give in to the thrumming tide of lust, throw myself headfirst into what many would call scandalous activity, and strip off the last vestiges of propriety.

Was there anything wrong with it? My body certainly didn't think so, and my mind was inclined to agree. Who cared about societal taboos out here? It wasn't as if I had a lover back home to remain loyal to. Pride rankled at the idea of giving over control, of letting myself fall into the avaricious clutches of a pokémon seductress. I now knew the full strength of her spell, and to willfully submit to it seemed foolish. But then, what if there were consequences to spurning her? I couldn't afford to be cast into the jungle to fend for myself. Pragmatism dictated I should give Violet whatever she wanted if it meant my continued safety, no matter how demeaning it may be.

My skin prickled at the thought of diving headfirst into her aphrodisiac enchantment, but my cock surged against my pants. Her touch on my skin, so delicate and skilled, while her sensuous lithe body undulated among the coiling smoke… Our differences in form and lack of shared language seemed meaningless. We were two sapient creatures taking joy in the oldest form of pleasure two beings could enjoy. In a way it was beautiful. We could commune together in a primal manner, free of constraints imposed by culture, religion, or outdated ethics. Man and pokémon bonded together with shared passion.

If she desired my body, I wouldn't deny her.

As the meal ended and shadows lengthened, I waited with bated breath, tingling from head to toe. Tonight I wouldn't make a fool of myself! Sure enough, wisps of smoke began to curl up from Violet's tail as she reclined on her throne, the fuschia fog billowing around her like some fantastic garment. Albert grunted and glanced up, but didn't stir to approach the dais and present himself. Was he waiting for some signal as yet ungiven?

Unlike before, Violet's smoke didn't start to thicken in the air, its distinct almond-cumin scent tickling my nose without quite filling it. She rose, wreathed in a thin veil of her perfume, stretching her lithe form in tantalizing ways while she scanned her subjects. That half-lidded gaze landed on Tobias, and she approached the sceptile with a sway to her hips recognizable to a male of any species. She extended a claw to him and drew the larger reptile into an embrace, coiling her tail over his hip and gazing up into his yellow eyes. His narrow features softened, a little sigh escaping the amiable lizard as he returned Violet's affection, the pink tip of his cock poking free against her belly. Then, she turned and led him off into the trees, leaving the rest of us to stew in unsatisfied arousal.

Was that it? I stared after them, confused emotion warring within. Violet presented an enigma. Surely a more fickle creature didn't exist! Yet, why should I even be upset? Yes, I'd expected another promiscuous affair, but why would she choose me over her other, more qualified and compatible suitors? For that matter, last night might have been an anomaly, a special occasion, or a celebration—perhaps of my addition to her little harem. Sexual frustration clouded my judgment, compounded by the stirring notes of feral delight rising from the direction the pair had vanished. I had no right to desire her, but every fiber of my being wanted her. Perhaps the smoke had affected me more than I'd thought… Or perhaps denial of my appetites nurtured the seed of envy within me.

Whatever the case, it didn't help when I glanced over at Albert only to see him casually masturbating, his legs spread wide, one massive paw wrapped around his thick member and merrily pumping away, little grunts escaping him while his body quivered in the throes of pleasure. For a moment I stared, transfixed by the big ursine's shameless self-pleasure, tempted to mimic him and see to my own rigid erection. Or, what might it be like to—

No, I wasn't really interested in THAT. More a morbid curiosity to touch that huge, foreign phallus than any true sexual attraction, and I wasn't yet willing to open that particular pangoro's box. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I turned tail and huddled up on the edge of the clearing, out of sight of Albert and mostly out of earshot from the evening activities. Ronan had vanished too, leaving me quite alone to stubbornly ignore my hard-on until it began to subside in disappointment.

It seemed I had more to learn, not the least of which was how to deal with my wounded pride.

***

Now you might wonder, my friend, why these lurid details are germane. It is important to recognize the society I had been inducted into, and how integral sensuality and sexual transactions were to the economy of this little tribe. We were free creatures to explore pleasure as we saw fit, yet beholden to the primary object of desire which all of our lusts orbited: Violet. Indeed, the combination of her addictive pheromones, the primal eroticism she exhibited, and her unobtainable nature placed her as the undisputed queen. She knew this and possessed the sly wit to leverage it all to her liking, the crafty lizard. Thankfully she was no tyrant, but I can tell you one thing—she'd be a hell of a negotiator in business meetings!

...

Goodness, that late already? Those drinks are kicking in, and my throat feels a tad parched as well. Forgive me, but we must resume this tale tomorrow night. I imagine I've given you a few things to chew on for the time being—let those journalistic gears spin, eh? Probably seems like I joined some pokémon sex cult, though perhaps that isn't far from the truth? You can decide for yourself. We have yet to arrive at the crux of my journey, and I think you'll agree with my estimation of my hosts intentions. For now, consider my position: utterly beholden to Violet and something of a plaything for her, dependent upon her graces for my survival even with my makeshift innovations. Not an enviable negotiating situation to be sure!

Yet, for all that…

It made one hell of an adventure.

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