Trixiezilla

This is not a story about love, with a name like, “Morning Glades, Evening Tides,” which promises to be long, sappy, and with words bursting with meaning, nuance, and sickening amounts of literary value. This is not a story about love, or even kindness, but instead a story about lust, stupidity, bad puns, and lots of hot sex.

It also contains general rape, a tiny bit of breath play, feral sex, use of toys, M/F, bondage, F/m, F/M, rape of the english language (Usually figuratively just now, though it also happens literally five times), F/S, m/F, F/Paw, F/t, t/F, squick, squid, (actually there is no squid. This isn’t THAT type of story) and other stuff that’s too long to list out here.

Now, fair warning must be given to the reader. It is possible that the story contained here might constitute abuse of pokémon, and some have even said this is the case, but when we sent someone to ask the possibly aggrieved party, she sent him away, covered in minor burns and lube. Though, he made some good money selling his story of the incident, entitled, “Don’t Rape the Messenger.”

It was a beautiful spring morning. The sun rose golden over the region known as Johto, bathing the slumbering land with its welcome rays. One of these happened to be a very special beam, though it had no way of knowing this fact. Sunbeams are, after all, not often noted for higher cognitive functions, no matter how much energy they may emit in the forms of heat and light.

The sunbeam in question lanced through the brightening sky at 299 792 458 miles per second, passing mere inches above the tip of mount silver. It coursed over Blackthorn city, ignoring the sleepy mountain town nestling amidst the passes and steppes of the highlands.

Northward and west it sped, pointed Earthward at a perfect 47.43° angle. The lake of rage flashed by beneath its flight, glittering sparkles thrown out by other playful sunbeams dancing across the rippling surface. The special sunbeam might have wanted to join them, if sunbeams were capable of such emotions. Most tend to be loners by nature.

Lower to the ground now, the sunbeam pierced through treetops, narrowly avoiding leaves and branches which attempted to block its path. It swooped between the legs of a sleepy slakoth emerging from its den. Within nanoseconds, it broke free of the foliage, aimed straight and true, through the darkened entrance of a small, rough, hut-like structure of branches and mud.

Other sunbeams were already inside, exploring the corners of the residence, illuminating leaf-wrapped piles of berries, some scattered leaves and straw, and a dirt floor, neatly beaten smooth. Several of the sunbeam’s brethren illuminated the supine form of the hut’s inhabitant, sprawled on a bed of soft leaves, her mouth open in a loud snore. Cream and blue fur, dappled with the early morning rays.

The beam of light finally ended its long journey from the great star which had birthed it, sliding into the tiny crack between the creature’s eyelids. It expended all of its latent energy in a tiny supernova of brilliance, splashing warm, liquid gold light across the dormant senses of the sleeper.

Slowly, ever so slowly (as ordinary time would seem at the speed of light) a pair of red eyes cracked open.

***

Dammit. S’too early! Lemme sleep...

Trixie floated into consciousness with great reluctance, leaving behind an extremely pleasant dream involving herself, an arcanine, and a salamence, both quite nicely endowed, and putty in her paws. She glared at the ceiling, of her little home, blinking away the pesky sunbeam which had awakened her, and stifling the urge to snap at the shaft of light. It had just been getting to the good part too! The big fire dog on his back, legs held splayed by vines, looking down at her with a slightly worried expression as she inspected her prize...

Rolling to her feet, Trixie banished the fantasy, grumbling under her breath. The first morning of her heat was always the worst. She was a right and proper ursaring until she had her first good screw. She stumbled her way over to her stash of berries, choosing a few at random to munch on. At least this year, she’d had the foresight to stock up in advance. Once things started getting crazy, there was no time to go out and forage.

Though, that dream had given her a few ideas. Maybe she should keep a stockpile of good, sturdy vines too? Something to keep the males where she wanted them for the length of her season. She pondered, munching on a pecha. She’d have to keep them fed too, of course, but it would be worth it. Three, maybe four at once? Trussed neatly and waiting for her? No need to hunt new ones down every day? Ride one until he wussed out, then grab the next? It certainly bore consideration.

Idly, she scratched at the heart-shaped marking on her belly. She’d never been able to figure out why it itched when she was feeling horny, and right now, it was a buzzing fly beneath her skin, almost as maddening as the as yet unsated burn between her thighs. Yup, day one was always the worst, but at least she was still clear-headed enough to make a plan of action. A sly grin made its way onto her muzzle, as she considered her first target for the day.

I think I’m feeling a hankering for arcanine.

***

“Reno!”

The cave mouth was dark and silent, which wasn’t entirely unexpected. Trixie stood squarely in front of it, blocking escape, and attempting to pierce the dark interior with her glare.

“Better get yer fluffy ass out here now, Reno, don’t make me come get ya!”

Still no response. Either the fire dog was still dead to the world (possibly from a long night spent with whatever random female he’d conned), and half deaf not to hear her, or he was doing a very poor job of trying to hide from her.

“C’mon, I promise I ain’t gonna leave any marks on ya that won’t eventually heal!” Pausing, she reluctantly added, “Hell, I promise I won’t even call ya a bitch too often!”

Maybe sweet talk had never been her strong suit, but if he wasn’t going to take that offer, then...

“Okay, you asked for it, fluff butt! You’re gonna wish you hadn’t made me drag you outta there though!” Grumbling under her breath, Trixie marched into the lair of the truant canine, flaring her burners and preparing to grab several pawfuls of thick fluff to haul him off with.

The flickering light of her burners illuminated a spacious cavern, one that could comfortably house even the largest species. Sadly, it was quite empty. Trixie crossed her forelimbs over her chest, sizing up the chamber for any other exits, but the walls were woefully lacking in dark openings. She peered closely at a pair of medium sized rocks near the back of the cave, despite the fact that they would have hidden a 400 pound, 6 foot tall fire breathing canine about as well as a lamp post would hide a sumo wrestler. She even went so far as to walk up to them and give one a kick, rolling it. No arcanine appeared.

“Dammit, Reno!” Trixie scented the air, catching the slightly burnt smell of her quarry. He’d certainly been here recently, but it looked like she would need to find different prey. She scratched her belly, scowling, and walked out of the empty cave into the daylight. Her paw flexed, unsheathing and sheathing her claws by turn.

Worthless fire dog. He’s gonna get it next time I catch him.

A great distance away, almost across the border of Kanto, and still running at his very best speed, an arcanine began to sneeze.

***

The day had grown decidedly warm, which was not helping the situation in the slightest. Trixie’s muzzle had affixed itself into a scowl sometime in the past hour, and the trail of her passage southward through the forest was marked by abused (and sometimes smoldering) foliage. The trees were beginning to thin out here, and if she wasn’t mistaken, she was about to wander into...

Trixie stopped short as she ducked under a branch, finding herself on a small ridge clear of trees. Below her, rooftops stretched out under the late morning sun, divided by paved streets populated by a scattering of pedestrians, both human and pokémon.

Damn.

She’d had no intention of coming so near to human habitations. It made her hackles rise, despite the fact that she was far enough away that the occupants of the town seemed smaller than they should. None of them would notice a lone typhlosion staring down at them from the edge of the forest. Not even a lone, extremely frustrated typhlosion.

Rather than turn and immediately tramp back into the safety of the trees, Trixie popped a grepa berry she’d snagged somewhere along the way into her mouth, and brooded over her options. The berry was cool and juicy, sating the thirst she hadn’t even realized she’d been building over the past hours of travel. Why was it that every damn worthless male around here turned tail and ran as soon as they caught sight of her? She glared down at nothing in particular. That lot needed to get themselves together and collectively grow a pair!

She hadn’t been trying to scare them. Hell, she’d been downright charming! It wasn’t her fault that nidoking had taken her calling him a, “Tasty looking hunk of fuck meat”, as a threat. And that luxray... he should’ve known what she meant when she said she wanted to drag him off and bang his brains out! Maybe she’d been a bit too desperate when she’d dispensed with sweet talk and simply tried to pounce on that vulpix. Stupid heat meant she couldn’t sneak up on a graveler with his nose buried in a sunflora. Bah! Even a stupid pinkie could probably smell her coming!

The little bugger would have hardly been more than a few drops of water on the fire that had been building in her loins. Still, he could have done something, had he taken a moment to realize her inviting grin wasn’t a snarl, and that her grab for his curled tails had been born of -if not innocent intentions- not ones that involved him becoming a meal.

Knowing the way males gossip, those three prolly spread the word to the rest. The thought made her growl. Just what she needed. Rumors of a ‘crazy’ typhlosion on a rampage. The way her luck had been so far, any unclaimed males nearby were already either hiding or beating a quick retreat.

Leaving her extremely dissatisfied. She really would need to consider bringing a few home early next year, and barricading them in or something. Not like they’d run once they had a taste of her charms, but her daddy had always taught her to make sure of her bets.

Though... sometimes a pure gamble could work out nicely. She looked back at the town, still scowling, but not as dark as a moment before. Yes, all the males in the forest seemed to know her by reputation, but that might not be the case in the town. A tame pokemon. That’s what she needed. One not as used to fighting, and one more accustomed to obeying. Steeling herself for the stench of human, she trundled down the hillside.

She cracked her knuckles as she walked, keeping a wary eye out for eager humans with empty pokéballs. This was stupid. Reckless. But, her heart marking still itched something fierce, her loins burned with heat, and Reno probably wouldn’t be able to safely return for months, but as she headed down towards the unsuspecting town her mood shifted from total anger to something tinged with determination.

Prowling along behind the houses, the silly short fences between each one gave her momentary pause, before she smashed through them with a shrug. What was the point of such a useless barricade? The lawns she passed through were neat (save for the pieces of fence now littering them), but so far there hadn’t been a sign of any worthwhile targets. Yes, there had been a male diglett, but he hadn’t seemed quite worth the effort.

She smashed through another fence, into another lawn, and found it empty of targets, but there was a small wood den thing, about waist height. She smashed it open, but once again it was empty and she gave a roar of frustration. Where were those stupid males? Didn’t any of them know better than to hide from her? She considered the next fence, then paused to consider. So far she hadn’t had any luck outside. Maybe it was time to try something different again...

Turning, Trixie stomped towards one of the big dens, lowering her head and charging. The door burst open, sending fragments of wood in every direction over a small kitchen, followed by a dizzy typhlosion.

Stupid door. Doesn’t it know better than to mess with me? she wondered woozily. Well, who’s your daddy now, bitch? And if you show your face again, I’ll introduce ya to Stretchy! You hear me!? (Author’s note: At this point, some readers may be lost, not understanding the universe very well. You see, unlike mere physical toys, Stretchy transcends time and space when it feels like it. This should be obvious from the way she it threatening in Stretchy’s name, before meeting him. Err, it. So remember, if in the future, you think you’ve found a continuity error, just remember. You are the one in the wrong, not the author.)

Almost immediately, a high-pitched, offended barking started up, and a poochyena dashed into the room at top speed, skidding on the smooth floor, and bouncing off of a cupboard before coming to rest facing Trixie, growling and barking for all he was worth.

“Intruder! Thief! Door murderer! Get out! Out out out out out out out!”

Trixie fixed the yapping canine with a baleful eye, appraising. It was... annoying, but it was also male. There was only one solution for a noisy male, and she wasn’t in the mood to be picky.

“Don’t be like that, it’s yer lucky day, bone breath.” Grinning, she advanced, claws outstretched.

“What do you want? Crazy! Fat! Psycho! Out out out!”

Trixie’s burners flared with a whoosh. Despite his brave display, the poochyena either recognized the lack of fear in the typhlosion’s eyes and posture, or clued into the fact that she could likely beat him senseless with about as much effort as he might take to show the local fire hydrant who was boss. Survival instincts kicked in, and he fled for the hills.

Which, unfortunately for him, happened to mean, ‘run upstairs and hide under the bed.’

Dammit, now I’ve gotta work for it again!? Muttering a litany of curses under her breath, Trixie tromped up the stairs after the smaller ‘mon, smacking one forepaw into the other. His fear scent practically left a trail in the air, which lead her down a long hallway, and into a room with a strange cushy turf underfoot. Once again, she paused briefly, wondering at the odd, springy grass beneath her paws, as well as the sound of running water coming from behind a closed door to her right. Why the hell would they grow it blue? And who would want a river running through their den?! These only held her attention for a moment, before she zeroed in on the bed, which all but had a glowing arrow pointing to it in poochyena smell.

Right then.

Trixie stretched, limbering her shoulders. She spat on her paws. Then, she grabbed the edge of the bed and heaved.

Inside the room, there was a loud crash, a yelp, frantic scuffling noises, and then silence. How precisely the bed stayed on all four feet is a mystery of physics, but Trixie didn’t particularly care. What mattered was, the poochyena was now pinned solidly beneath her, and, better yet, the bed made an excellent barricade on the only way out of the room.

This is more like it!

The poochyena’s frantic squirming brought a feral grin to her muzzle, which she directed at him full force.

“Had to make it harder on both of us, didn’t ya? Look, you may be no more’n a snack when I need a good solid lunch, but I ain’t gonna hurt ya. Got it?” She paused, considering. “Well, ‘less you make me.”

His struggles didn’t cease, and surprisingly, now cornered, he dredged up a touch of defiance. “Get off me, fatty!” he wheezed. “Gonna bite ya, gonna bite ya!” He bared his (still woefully unimpressive) fangs.

Trixie, straddled across his middle, tapped her muzzle, contemplating how best to put him to use. If he hadn’t smelled the juices which were beginning to seep into his bellyfur by now, he wasn’t going to see the point until she shoved it in his face. Knots were awesome, even small ones, but...

She went with shoving the point in his face, or rather, his face into the point.

“That’s right! You are a big boy, and a lot quieter this way,” she purred as she finally got some penetration more substantial than her own paws.

The dog’s eyes bulged, then he scrambled at her fur, scratching the itchy heart of fur around his head as his muzzle was pressed deeper and deeper into the horny demon. It is important to note at this juncture, that to some fetishists, being pressed face-first into the delicate regions of an aroused female may seem like a dream come true. Sadly, due to several laws of both physics and biology (mostly involving the location of canine olfactory organs, and the lack of critical gasses such as oxygen in cavities like the one the poor poochyena found himself inserted within), it was, in fact, less of a pleasant experience than it may have seemed to an interested observer.

“Oh stop squirming you big whiner,” she groused as she started grinding the bridge of his nose into just the right spot... “Yes! At least yer good for something!” She pulled his head most of the way out -long enough to get a couple of gasps of air- then shoved it back in, relishing the sensations flaring in her loins.

At first, Trixie didn’t connect the silence from the connected bathroom, followed by the sound of a door opening behind her, with the presence of someone else in the room. She spun around, dropping the dildog, and turned just in time to see a human, still wet from a shower walk into the room, buck naked. He was holding a small bottle of weird blue pokéblocks, and she she watched, he poured out two into his hand.

“Guess what, Pooch? (Author’s note: In case you can’t tell, this note is here to make sure you realize he’s bad at naming pokémon. Do not assume, for any reason, that this is really the author being too lazy to make a proper name... ... ... Umm... Is this mic still on? How do I turn this thing off? Oh. The yellow swi-) I’ve got a lunch date with Jen, y’know, that hottie I met last week? So I picked up a bottle of these...” he rattled the bottle, “in case things get...” His voice trailed off as he finally took in the sight of the disheveled room, and his pet (who was taking the opportunity to jump out the window, rather than spend another moment with the she-devil).

Trixie was, for once, at a loss for words. The male just stood there, holding out the bottle. She was angry, horny, and pissed, but this was the first time a male had ever offered her food. She looked down, and standing proudly between his legs was confirmation of his offer, and man hot damn it a solid confirmation. She wouldn’t have expected such... eagerness... from a pinkie, but she wasn’t in the mood to complain. She stepped forward and snatched the bottle, swallowing about half the strange pokéblocks, in acceptance. Immediately, her muzzle twisted in disgust.

Blech. He think he can fob me off with shit food? He’s got another’n comin’.

Then, she literally (yes, literally) jumped on the shell-shocked male.

He fell to the ground, his head hitting the floor with thump, leaving him to stare up at the typhlosion now pinning him, as she poured the other half of the bottle into his mouth. He coughed and choked, managing to get most of them down, then his eyes focused on the bottle, and bugged out. “No! What did you do?! I was saving those damn it! Do you know how hard it is to get those if you’re not a licensed breeder?” After a second’s pause, he added (like any reasonable person whose home had been invaded by a horny pokémon might), “And where the hell did you come from?!”

The words made a sort of sense to her, but she neglected to answer. She was still attempting to swallow the lump of pills. Instead, she chose a more practical (and universal) form of response. Reaching down, she seized hold of his exposed manhood, and pointed it towards the space previously occupied by Pooch’s muzzle. Without ceremony, she dropped her weight into his lap.

Her nameless victim’s eyes widened somehow past their already bulging state. He’d never much considered pokémon as having a sex drive, and now he was experiencing hands on education on the subject, from one of the leading experts. His erection, already painfully hard from the pills, was all too happy in its new (if completely unexpected) home. Instinct older than civilization took over, and he grunted like a caveman as his hands fell to Trixie’s already pistoning hips.

For her part, Trixie was enjoying herself more than she’d anticipated. Pinkies, it seemed, weren’t such useless wastes of space after all. At least, not the male ones! Granted, she could beat the tar out of him far too easily for her liking, and judging by the way he was quivering and moaning, he had about as much stamina as a snorlax trying to swim up river, but damn that pole felt good!

Wet slapping noises and feral grunts filled the room as Trixie satisfied herself with her current toy, slamming herself down and grinding into his crotch on every thrust. Her claws tightened on his chest, pricking the delicate, pasty skin. Through the haze, she remembered the wise words of her mother. “Males are toys. Toys are no fun when they break, so try to be gentle enough to get at least get a few uses out of them.” Her grip relaxed marginally.

It should be said, that at the time, Trixie’s mother had been showing her daughters the proper way to bind a male down so that, not only could he not escape, but you could do with him as you pleased and not have to stop after the second or third time he came. After all, a male should feel grateful to be picked by you, so if he finished early, that was his fault. Moxie never did pay much attention to that rule, considering it more of a guideline, that only applied to other people, but Trixie had always minded her mother more than her little sister had.

Pleasure swarmed through Trixie’s nerves as she rode the human with desperate fervor. He was bucking randomly beneath her now, and she knew from experience that no matter how much abuse you hurled at them, getting a male who had just popped to do what was proper and finish her off was a pain in the ass she’d rather avoid. She watched his face with mild interest, noting how it screwed up in an intense expression of pleasure and concentration. Did all pinkies do that, or was it just this one? She might have to sample a few more and see.

(Authors note: Unfortunately for the unwitting citizens of the town, Trixie was not a powerful telepath prone to broadcasting her thoughts to a wide circle of lifeforms. Had she been such, they would have had a chance to do the smart thing: pack up their possessions and flee. Of course, humans being humans, they would have stayed, but it’s the chance that counts.)

With a final, powerful buck, the man succumbed to the warm, damp, muscled walls squeezing around his sensitive member, closing his eyes and quivering in wordless release as his seed spilled into the canal of another species. Trixie scowled down at him as he shuddered, feeling a few liquid spurts coat her tunnel, his fingers digging into the fur of her thighs reflexively, then slipping away as he passed into a post-orgasmic stupor. Was that it? She could’ve produced more herself, even without balls!

Enraged, she flung herself at his unconscious form with all her strength, snarling and bouncing with enough force to batter his rump on the floor repeatedly. Fortunately for him, the magical mixture of the friendship and love his Pooch held for him, combined with the aphrodisiac male enhancing pills he’d taken (and been forced to take) kept him stiff enough that the sexual frenzy of the typhlosion was cooled by a powerful orgasm before she put his somnolent body through the floor. He would, however, wake up with an extremely sore tailbone, some singed pubic hair, and a mildly scalded crotch. (Author’s note: Remember, when screwing a flammable creature, it’s always best to equip adequate protection. Kevlar condoms come highly recommended.)

Trixie sighed as her pleasure finally reached its crescendo, a veritable cascade of her juices drenching the human’s abused lower regions. Her frantic bucks slowed to a languid rocking as she rode out the rippling contractions, ecstasy fizzing through her system. For the time being, the burning itch between her legs was sated, leaving her rather drained. Looking down at her unusual partner’s peaceful face, it struck her that she’d thrown her rule about getting too close to humans off a cliff.

Ah hell with it. He was a decent enough screw. No one could be held responsible for what they did on the first day of their heat anyhow. Or, for that matter, the second day. Settling back, appreciating that, for all his lack of volume, at least he was still decently hard inside her, she cracked an expansive yawn. First one of heat’s always a doozy. He ain’t goin’ nowhere. Should be good for another later.

With that thought in mind, the -now somewhat calm- typhlosion stretched out on top of her human mattress, and joined him in slumber. Soon, the only sounds in the room were the odd, faint prophetic mumblings about “rapidash” and “be a good bitch, Reno”, along with noisy, contented snoring.

***

During their peaceful afternoon nap, neither Trixie nor her human prey awoke when the door downstairs swung open, and a female voice called out hesitantly, “Chris? Are you here? I tried calling you. Why didn’t you show up for lunch?” Silence followed the query, then, footsteps creeping hesitantly up the stairs.

“Chris? I saw your car out there. You’d better have a damn good excuse for standing me up, mister!”

The bedroom door creaked, and there was a short gasp of surprise (as though somebody had seen the bed shoved across the doorway, and the general disarray of the room beyond). This was followed by a squeal of shock (as though that same somebody had now seen her boyfriend sleeping naked underneath a pokémon, the pair of them covered in a sticky mess that was obviously (to any observer of legal age or from this site) not the remnants of a water balloon fight.)

“Chris, you sick, sick bastard! We are done, do you hear me? What did you do to that poor pokémon! Ugh, I’m out of here!”

The bedroom door swung shut, and footsteps receded down the stairs. In the kitchen, there came the sounds of rustling paper, scratching pen, and ripping tape. Then, the front door.

Through all this, Trixie dreamed happy dreams, her wide smile boding ill for whatever poor male she had managed to catch, while Chris dreamt that he had acquired a powerful electric blanket, filled with lead shot.

***

Trixie yawned and stretched, opening her eyes to near darkness. She stretched lazily, reaching out for her toy, then gave a growl of rage and frustration. Damn it all! She’d forgotten to tie him up. She was letting herself get soft, forgetting to bind a male beforehand. Moreover, the itch between her legs was back, with a vengeance. She swore at the uselessness of males in general, and their unwillingness to stay around when needed, and vowed not to make the same mistake twice. She’d make sure that he felt like he’d been caught by a swarm of tangela!

She began pulling the sheets from the bed, testing them with firm yanks. Now these would work far better than boring old vines would. Nice and sturdy! She’d tie the legs first, and then she’d-

Her ears perked at a scuffling noise from the bathroom, followed by a masculine grunt. Her head swivelled towards the sound, red eyes zeroing in like a sniper scope. A slow grin formed on her muzzle. She advanced with all the grace of a stalking tiger, bedsheets trailing behind from the firm grip in her claws.

Gotcha. Round two, pinkie, ready or not!

***

A trail of wet droplets followed Trixie as she prowled the darkened streets of the town, a low growl rumbling in her throat. The next male she found had better not be such a useless wuss! You’d think that last one had never been tied up before, the way he’d squealed and moaned the entire time, and despite popping twice as she rode him, he hadn’t managed to stay hard enough to get her off!

In the end, she’d given up on squeezing anything else out of him. Not even her unending litany of encouragement had helped motivate him to perform better, so it was past time to find a better toy. Sadly, the streets were as thinly populated in the evening as they had been before, and every passerby she spotted seemed to be female. Just her luck. Her loins felt as if her burners had magically shifted down there, the fur of her thighs was damp, and scratching at the itchy heart on her belly only seemed to fan the flames.

Should’ve taken those ropes. At least they worked good. Who knew a pinkie could be tied in such a great pose?

Little to Trixie’s knowledge, the ‘great pose’ she’d left Chris in had caused a severe case of muscle cramps, such that, when he worked the pillowcase free of his mouth after Trixie’s exit, and the neighbours at last heard his frantic yelling for help, the officer who found him was forced to lend a hand untangling the poor guy.

 

Officer Jenny could hardly be blamed for snickering at his predicament. It wasn’t every day one was given the chance to assist a nude man in getting free of his bizarre self-bondage experiment. The note she’d found on the bottom floor, from what appeared to be a jilted lover, only confirmed her suspicions. His babblings about a ‘crazy typhlosion’ were pure nonsense, clearly intended to shift responsibility from himself, but she nodded and smiled, and pretended to take notes. No point in filing a report here, and the scenery was too nice to bother lecturing him too gravely about taking care in his future BDSM adventures. She even considered slipping him her number. He seemed like he’d enjoy getting familiar with her handcuffs.

Meanwhile, Trixie grew increasingly frustrated. Most of the windows she had passed were lit, yet randomly bursting into houses seemed like less of a good idea now, despite her need. If she was unlucky, she might surprise a pinkie with enough ‘mon enslaved to actually be a threat to her, rare as those were. The last thing she wanted was to get caught. She’d suck off a muk before she became a human’s bitch! An innocent mailbox felt the teeth of her anger, an offhanded Focus Punch leaving a large dent and sending it flying across the street, where it took out a closed newsstand.

What to do next? Most of the building here were dark and apparently empty, with metal shutters over their windows. She could go back and spy into the dens of course, seeing if any likely targets presented themselves, but that involved waiting, and she hated waiting. Head back to the forest, and try her luck there? Possibly, but that would also take too long, and bore no guarantees besides. Her claws flexed. She needed to jump something now, or she was going to explode!

A flicker of pink neon drew her eye. She glared at the flashing sign, which showed an outline of a human couple in a position that was scandalous, and had there been more detail than a tangle of limbs, would have been illegal too. If Trixie could have read (or cared about) the human script beside the image, she would have seen the words, Pete’s Pleasure Palace, XXX, Pokémon and Human Specialists! What exactly she would have done if she had read them is unclear, but perhaps she might have taken different actions than those that follow.

Or, perhaps not.

Trixie snarled up at the sign. How dare that thing try to scare her off! Was that flashing supposed to be a weak attempt at making fire? Ha! She ignited her burners with a whoosh, crossing her forelimbs and planting herself in the street.

“How’s that for fire, numb-nuts?”

The sign failed to rise to her taunt, continuing to flash obstinately. Trixie growled, taking a menacing step forward. “You want some? That the best you got? C’mon!”

She waited, growing more furious by the moment. Now it was going to ignore her?! She took another step closer, pouring all her power into her burners, looking for all the world like angry bonfire. Still, it refused to rise to her challenge. It was too much. She lowered her head and charged, unleashing a jet of white hot flame. The vaguely pornographic sign exploded in a shower of sparks, the letters fizzling out. Halting her advance, Trixie observed her handiwork.

Ha! Serves you right, little flashy bitch-ass! Betcha won’t try messing with me again!

With the phony fire-breather taken care of, Trixie turned her gaze onto what it had been protecting. The window was full of strange, vaguely human shaped things, covered in stringy garments. Some even had patterns like arcanine stripes, umbreon rings, and one fuzzy looking blue number with stars which made her snicker. She supposed it was meant to represent a luxray, though it looked more like someone had shaved one of the thunder kitties bald and glued on a few pretty rocks. The other items in the window caught her interest, however. That one looked strangely like...

In what must have seemed to the outside observer to be a blur, Trixie was off the street, through the door, and peering around the dim interior of the store. Behind her, the door banged noisily, jangling the bell, and putting the hinges into a sorry state. The young twenty-something man behind the counter didn’t look up from the magazine he was reading.

“Welcome to Pete’s Pleasure Palace,” he droned listlessly, “your erotic and exotic one-stop-shop. Toy vendor is over there.” He waved at a brightly lit kiosk, with a big, friendly looking touch-screen. “Ask me about weekly specials, X-TMs, live casts, and custom orders. Bring your purchases up to the counter if you decide to buy something.”

Trixie looked in the direction he’d indicated, the glowing machine riveting her attention. Was that where she’d get what she’d seen in the window? She’d barely listened to what the pinkie was mumbling about, and she didn’t care about all the mish-mash of filmy clothes, (whose price seemed to be inversely proportional to the amount of fabric used) shelves filled with condoms, lubes, and aphrodisiacs, racks of DVDs, or the life-size blow up dolls (though the dragonite one caught her eye momentarily, until she realized it was both fake -which she admittedly could have lived with- and more importantly, female in design). Eagerly, she made for the machine.

An electronic eye at the front of the vendor detected her presence, and the screen played a small fanfare, the image of a dancing, smiling, scantily clad woman holding up a big ‘welcome’ sign flashing into existence.

“Welcome to Pete’s Pleasure Palace!” the machine said, with considerably greater enthusiasm than the apathetic sales clerk. “Are you looking for fun toys? Well haven’t you come to the right place! Why not start by letting us know if you’re interested in males, or females?”

The dancing woman shrunk down to a still image, mirrored by a shirtless male flashing a million dollar smile and a thumbs up. A flashing, suspiciously shaped arrow popped up between them, pointing first at one, then the other.

“Well, go on! Pick your poison, pal! Just touch the one you want! But don’t get too handsy, or we might have to charge extra!” Both images winked.

Trixie stared at the machine, momentarily flabbergasted. The words made sense, after a fashion, though the exuberant tone made her want to kick the crap out of it in her current mood. Hesitantly, she placed a forepaw to the image of the buff (though clearly using spray-on tan) man. Impossibly, the image’s grin widened, and his hands dropped suggestively to his waistband as the machine said, “Toys for the laaaaydeeees, nice choice! Here we go!”

The screen dissolved, reforming into a grid of large, brightly colored images, with big, flashing arrow at the bottom emblazoned with the word, “More!”. Trixie’s eyes widened. The first few were all human shaped, in what appeared to be varying colors and sizes. In the second row, however...

Hot damn! That sucker would make fluff butt jealous. Wonder if the knot is as big as it looks?

Eagerly, she pressed her paw to the image, which enlarged it to fill the screen. “The arcanine!” Shouted the machine. “Getting in touch with your wild side. Excellent choice! Got a size in mind, sister?” A ruler with a selection slider appeared beside the image. Trixie touched it, recoiling in surprise when it moved. How strange. She hadn’t felt it, but it had clearly been pushed upwards on the screen. With care, she repeated the action, sliding it to the very top of the scale. Her eyes widened as the image grew accordingly.

Oh, hell yeah...

“Hey hey, looks like someone’s a bit ambitious!” said the machine. “If you’re sure you can handle all that, press to confirm, but don’t be afraid to back out!”

Afraid? Why the hell would she be afraid? After a moment’s pause to decipher which of the two flashing buttons would give her what she wanted, she picked the green one. There was a muted clunk, a whirring sound, and one of the flexible tubes leading from the top of the machine to a hole in the ceiling began to shake. Moments later (during which Trixie tapped her foot impatiently, wondering if she should hit the buttons again, harder), a twelve inch long sculpture of silicone dropped into the dispenser.

Trixie picked up the toy, giving it a firm squeeze, her muzzle hanging open slightly. It almost felt like the real thing, but it didn’t come with a whiny, troublesome male attached! Clutching her prize to her chest, she looked back at the machine. What else might it have hidden in there?

With a bit of fumbling (and no small amount of swearing in ‘phlosion) she figured out how to get back to the main toy menu. The human toys, she passed over without a pause, even the larger ones. Why settle for something so mundane, with all the fun shapes available? A smaller canine shaped toy (supposedly based on a ninetales) joined her first, along with one that claimed to be from a salamence. She’d never had one of those before, but the charizard she’d played with hadn’t looked anything like the ridged, spined phallus that the machine gave her.

Soon, she’d gone through the first page, and moved onto the second. These toys appeared disappointingly small, though the animations shown on the vibrators section caught her attention.

“Bullet vibe!” yelled the machine, followed by the now familiar battery of noises as it retrieved the item from the mysterious depths of the store. “May be small, but knows how to shake things up!” A larger, torpedo shaped vibrator followed onto her growing pile, and then she caught sight of a dream come true, though she didn’t realize it at the first.

Curious about what the strange harness-with-a-dick contraption was, Trixie pressed the first image in the series. “The First-Timer!” came the identifying shout. “Your man need to be shown who’s in charge? How about a little friendly pegging? You know what they say! Once you backdoor, you’ll always want more!” Unlike the previous toys, this one was accompanied by a helpful animation, showing a cartoon man bent over a bed, with a cartoon woman putting on the harness. Trixie watched, riveted, as the female, now proudly sporting the artificial boner, began ploughing the cartoon man with reckless abandon.

 

Sweet holy entei balls. It’s my lucky day! The typhlosion’s muzzle nearly split itself in two with her toothy grin as she frantically punched the button to get one of these marvellous devices. Who knew pinkies would come up with such useful ideas? Guy on guy was hot as it was, and having something that would let her be the one giving the screwing? Hot damn!

Practically boiling over with anticipation, Trixie barely waited for the strap-on to finish clunking into the dispenser before snatching it out, and tugging it into place. Conveniently (for both the excited pokémon, and for the plot of this story), it featured easy click-together straps, and moments later, Trixie was admiring her newly acquired, deep purple appendage.

Oh yeah, this bad boy’s gonna be fun. Grinning ear to ear, she idly wondered what her sister Moxie would think of her new hard-on. The harness even remained conveniently open, so she could use one of her toys while she diddled the lucky male! Or, she could even do two at once, riding one while she rid the other! So many excellent prospects, and...

Wait. Wonder if it’s got more?

It turned out, it did. The, “Nice to be Knotty!” made her chuckle appreciatively, though the “Double trouble!” took the cake. A shaft on the inside too? What more could a girl ask for? The original strap-on fell to the floor, replaced by the sturdier, black leather model. Trixie sighed in satisfaction as the firm, bumpy-skinned member slid easily inside her slick, aching lower lips. A thrust, a twist, and it was buried to the hilt, the straps tightened around her hips. The padded leather rested comfortably flush across her crotch, making it seem as if she was merely wearing exotic undergarments. Although, the bobbing, bright green, fake penis attached to the front rather ruined the image.

That’s more like it! One for me, and one for a lucky, lucky guy. I wonder if they still pop when you go at ‘em with one of these? The males she’d observed getting it on with one another had seemed happy enough, though she’d been too busy ‘enjoying’ the scene to really notice to what extent. Not that it mattered much. Her pleasure was the important part, after all.

For some time more, the only sounds in the shop were the enthusiastic shouts of the vending machine, the low, happy humming of a typhlosion, and the occasional whirrrr-chunk! of shiny new items joining Trixie’s pile. The bondage section had made her excited enough to leave a small puddle on the floor, the “Double Trouble” strap-on gaining its initiation with its new mistress. At last, however, she came to the ‘specialty’ section.

At this point, her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She stared at the image, almost not daring to believe it. Slowly, she pressed it. The image grew.

“The rapidash!”

“HELL YEAH!”

The size slider went all the way to the top, and the fist of a giddy typhlosion hit the “okay” button with enough force to go right through the fragile screen.

“Easy tiger! Bit of a size queen, aren’t we?” the vending machine said, the voice crackling with feedback, and trailing off into a slur as Trixie sheepishly withdrew her paw from the spiderwebbed wreckage of glass and wires. A small curl of smoke rose from the hole, yet still, the order had been processed in the microsecond before the vending machine’s motherboard had been pulverized. The tube from the ceiling rattled, shook. Something heavy dropped into the tray.

C’mere, gorgeous, Trixie thought as she lovingly withdrew the two foot long, equine toy from the wrecked machine. Her paw stroked along its smooth length, her heart skipping a beat in anticipation.

I think I’m gonna call you... Stretchy.

* * *

Trixie stared down at her new collection, and gave the new faux fox dick protruding from her loins a smack, causing it to bounce up and down, aggravating the itch inside of her with the promise of future relief, but nothing substantial yet. You and me are gonna get along really well. I never thought I’d find a male who could keep quiet and always be ready whenever I needed him. Grinning, she looked up, her eyes fixing on the oblivious shop clerk like crosshairs. And I think it’s time to try you out. Picking out a select few of her newly acquired playthings, she waddled over to the counter, dumping them down in front of the human.

“Found everything you were looking for? All sales are final. Will it be cash or credit?” He stifled a yawn, holding out a hand palm up, while still looking down at his magazine. A blue nametag on his shirt read, ‘Ben’.

“If your total is over $200, you get a gallon of Genuine Natural Skitty lube free.” He nudged a bucket towards her, the front of which showed a grinning, cartoon skitty face, and proclaimed, “Guaranteed to make it fit, or your money back!”

Unfortunately for him, Trixie was not appeased by his offering. This ledge looked like it would be exactly the right height, and she’d always wanted to get a male to try this. With a grunt of effort, she heaved herself up onto the counter, looming over the human, forelimbs crossed over her chest. Her burners ignited with a whoosh! The grin on her muzzle showed far too many fangs to be at all friendly. 

He looked up from his reading just in time to register shock at the sight before him, a strangled, “Wha-hey!” escaping his mouth. Strong paws fastened on his ears in an iron grip, dragging him down until the tapered tip of the green, canine schlong bumped his lips. He yelped, struggling to break free, but the prickle of sharp claws on his ears, coupled with a low, rumbling growl from the flaming apparition quelled his flailing. The tip of the strap-on nudged his lips again, this time with greater force. He didn’t need a translator to interpret Trixie’s, “Phlo, phloa phlooo.” Trembling with a mixture of anger, fear, residual shock, and mortification, he allowed his lips to part.

“Good boy,” Trixie purred as her silicone appendage slid into the pinkie’s mouth. Instinctively, her hips bucked, which produced a noisy gagging sound. Feeling generous at the moment, she backed off, leaving only the tip inside. He would learn to control that reflex soon. “C’mon, bitch, show me what you’ve got!”

She tugged on his ears, guiding him lower on the shaft, making his head bob in slow, “easy” motions. The toy insider her trembled, vibrating with the human’s efforts, and fuelling her excitement. Damn this was hot! No wonder males enjoyed making lesser females do this! She would rip the dick off of any who tried it with her, naturally. But, this sensation of utter control, complete dominance... no, ownership of the other? It turned her on far more than the physical sensations themselves.

Wet suckling noises filled the store as she began to rock her hips, burying poor Ben’s face in her crotch. He burbled something incoherent -likely something along the lines of, “I’m a salesperson, not the merchandise!”- but it had about as much effect as pelting the typhlosion with a cotton ball would. “Hell yeah! Yer a right natural, ain’t ya?” Trixie shouted. “I bet you’d be happy sucking me off all day, wouldn’t ya?

Trixie wasn’t too sure what, “Mmmph, mmmmm!” was supposed to mean, but she took it as assent. (Authors note: Much of what is said by Ben in these moments is uncertain, but can be assumed to fall into the categories of a generally low opinion on typhlosions, his job, the taste of silicone, and the idiot who didn’t keep an eye on the store while he was busy.) The eager typhlosion bent over, humping her captive’s mouth with greater vigor, the top of the toy’s knot kissing lewdly against his stretched lips on each thrust. Ben’s eyes began to water, his gag reflex barely under control as the toy prodded the back of his throat.

Almost wish it was the real deal. Wonder what that’d feel like? Trixie thought as she humped the flailing human. But, that would mean she was a male, which certainly wasn’t worth the trade off. Aloud, she said, “That’s it, get ‘im nice and wet. Yer gonna need it.” A firm thrust of her hips drove the point home, her paws pressing on the back of his head for seconds that surely felt like hours to the aggrieved Ben. Her tingling walls rippled, adding to the fluids dribbling down onto the counter, and with a satisfied growl, she abruptly let go.

Ben, who had been desperately pulling back against Trixie’s relentless pressure, toppled over in his chair with a crash, and lay in a heap on the floor, gasping for breath. Was he dreaming? This was almost too crazy a fantasy, even for a guy who worked in an adult novelty and BDSM store. Maybe the shrimp on that pizza had been bad or something. But, no... the lack of air seemed far too real for any dream, which meant the pokémon with the insane grin and dominance issues through the roof was also real, and so were the paws grabbing him and rolling him onto his side, pulling his arms behind his back...

Oh crap.

He tried to yank free, but too late, as the fuzzy pink handcuffs clicked around his wrists. Panic drove him to thrash, trying to keep her off him, to roll to his feet and run, to... something other than lie here and squirm. Sadly, he accomplished little more than bruising his shin as it cracked against the side of the counter.

Trixie took her time examining her prize, now that the frenzy of her initial conquest was beginning to wear off. A bit on the pudgy side, and had the makings of a whiner the way he was beginning to babble, but he’d do. His curled-up position was giving her a rather nice view of his plump, quivering rear after all. Yes, he’d do indeed. She adjusted her strap-on, licking her lips, and advanced.

A bit of fumbling ensued, followed by a growl of frustration, a terrified shriek from Ben, and then the tearing of fabric. Ben panted, staring wide-eyed at the torn remnants of his pants and underwear, pieces of them sticking to Trixie’s claws until they were flicked aside. He’d never had cause to fear for his manhood before, and it wasn’t an experience he wished to repeat. The sight of his limp member dangling in its usual place was a momentary relief. At least, until the reality of now being exposed to this mad bondage freak of a pokémon sunk in.

“Wait! Can’t we talk about this?” he babbled. “You can have the toys for free, promise! I won’t tell! I used to be a media student, so I know all about confidentiality of information! Maybe we can go out, get a nice breeder for you. One with a ditto! I’ve heard those places are great! Wouldn’t that be nice? Anything a cra- err, lovely typhlosion like yourself could want, rather than some smelly, unattractive, single guy from a place like this?”

Trixie ignored him, muttering happily under her breath as she rummaged through her toys. A spreader bar clanked to the floor, and after a brief struggle, joined the handcuffs in keeping her prize where she wanted him. Maybe she should stuff something in his mouth to keep him quiet?

Ben’s face paled as she picked up Stretchy, giving the toy a loving pat. She glanced down at him, a considering look on her muzzle.

“Nonononono, it doesn’t work that way. That’s for, umm.... Baseball! Yes!” He flashed a weak smile, nodding vaguely. “You know? Baseball? Yeah, not for sex, nooooo. Sports! Friends don’t use sports equipment on each other. We’re friends, right? You and me?”

Grunting, Trixie regretfully put Stretchy back on the pile. She wanted the noise to stop, but shoving that bad boy down a hole without any prep would definitely break her toy, and what would her mother say? He was as ripe and ready as he would ever be besides. Stomping over to him, she glared down into his face, which cut off the litany of whining with a satisfying click of his teeth. Good, and now that they had that sorted out, she tossed the toppled chair out of her way. It hit the wall, leaving a sizable depression in the drywall, and cracking the unfortunate piece of furniture into pieces. Ben whimpered.

She moved around behind the mentally protesting male, and with a mighty heave -geez, the pinkie could stand to lose some weight!- rolled him onto his belly, and jockeyed him into position. Putting her own weight down his shoulders left him nicely presented, and helped make sure that if any traitorous thoughts entered his head he would be quick to discard them.

“Now, get ready,” she warned as she stepped on the spreader bar, pulling him tight, then rested her new toy in line with his hole, then she paused and took a deep breath, remembering her mother’s warning to always relax before starting anal.

Her captive panicked, bouncing his arms up and down, twisting to get loose. Thanks to principles of leverage, this, of course, had about as much effect as attempting to push a car up a steep hill by yourself, while a typhlosion sits in the driver’s seat and hurls abuse. “Oh quit squirming you wuss,” Trixie growled, and gave him a smack on the back of the head. “I’ve taken much bigger than this.” And with no further preparation, except being careful to stay relaxed, she slowly but very firmly, used her 190.3lbs of muscle to force the toy forward.

(Author’s note: Channelling the power of badly researched sex scenes, and feeling a little sorry for Ben, we have decided that his saliva has now made the strap-on miraculously self-lubricating. Though, we’ll have to see if he’s grateful.)

Damn. If I ever squealed that way during trainin’, pops would’ve beaten the stuffing outta me! No wonder pinkies needed pokémon to do their dirty work. Even when you were being gentle with ‘em, they bitched and moaned like a walrein without his bucket! He hadn’t even taken the knot yet!

(Author’s note: Seems he’s not as grateful as he should be. Oh well.)

Regardless of Ben’s feelings on the issue, Trixie was in femdom heaven. (Author’s note: Not a place you want to go, dear reader, unless you have rather... extreme tastes). That first glorious thrust into her victim was mirrored by the toy occupying her own passage, sending sparks of ecstasy through her sensitive folds. Deciding she was more than relaxed enough, she seized hold of the wobbling flesh of Ben’s rump, and began a rapid series of pelvic thrusting, hammering the hobbled, helpless human.

“You like that, don’t ya?” she panted in his ear, leaning over his body to add more power to her thrusts. The way he shuddered and moaned with each hefty drive was delicious. She fancied she could feel him clenching around the penetration, her own inner walls rippling with pleasure as she ground down on the double-ended strap-on. Her burners flared, echoing her arousal. “Yeah ya do, I can smell it on ya, little cock-slut. S’matter? Am I too hot for ya to handle?” Chuckling at her own joke, Trixie nipped the back of his neck, eliciting a half shriek, half groan.

Wonder what sounds he’ll make when he takes the knot? Heh... 

Meanwhile, Ben was desperately trying to think through the cacophony of sensations hammering his mind. His no-longer-virgin passage felt like it had been set on fire, and he could feel the beginnings of bruises forming on his abused rear. Much to his chagrin, even through the pain, the tingling pressure between his legs told the story of the huge boner he was sporting. Shockwaves of pleasure lanced through him with each heavy thrust, forcing tiny gasps out between his panting breaths. Had he been a closet sub all this time? Did this she-devil know something he didn’t?

(Author’s note: Ben is being forcefully thrust into the land of fantasy here, of course. It could be a mental method of blocking out the trauma of his experience, or it could be that we juiced up that dildo for him a little too strongly. Badly researched porn to the rescue!)

Was there anything he’d read about typhlosions that would help him out of his predicament? All he remembered from his old pokédex was the quote, “It creates heat shimmers in the air with intense fire to hide itself”, which hardly seemed the case here (or of much use). Hide? Ha! This one seemed more likely to use heat shimmers to call attention to herself. He certainly didn’t recall any helpful guides, like, “The Idiot’s Guide to Fending off Lusty, Fetish Fascinated Females,” or, “Typhlosions and You: Anti-Rape Training for Dummies.”

I guess it can’t get much worse? he thought hazily.

That was when he felt the frantic pounding speed up, and the massive bulge of sculpted silicone beginning to stretch his already aching entrance, demanding access.

 No way is that going to fit. No way. Ah crap...

The next few moments were occupied with a great deal of heavy breathing, the smacking of excited paws on blubbery flesh, multiple octaves of squeals and yelps, and the constant crackling whoosh of Trixie’s burners.

Luckily for everyone in the room, and most of the readers, Narrative Causality protected Ben from any harm that wasn’t humorous, though of course tradition dictated that he would be walking funny, and wearing an amusingly pained expression for the next 24 hours afterwards.

Some time later, Trixie lay comfortably on top of her trembling, sweaty conquest, her toy hilted in the human’s lewdly stretched rear. Both the inside of the leather harness, and a considerable amount of Ben’s quivering rump were covered in the cooling evidence of her overall opinion of the experience, while a smaller, drying pool of white liquid puddled on the floor beneath the human. (Author’s note: It is a well known fact that when a male is being pegged by a female character, his chances of getting off are inversely proportional to how much he protested being pegged in the first place. This is demanded by the Rule of Funny.)

“Told ya you could take it, wobble-butt!” Trixie cackled, awarding the aforementioned portion of anatomy a hefty slap. Ben groaned weakly, mumbling something about, “Sunburn,” and, “Limping”. Her own lower regions were feeling comfortably sore, the fire between her legs sated for the time being. Chuckling, she braced herself and pulled, setting tiny crackles of delight through her nethers as the toy stroked her insides. It came free of Ben with an audible pop, forcing a weak whimper from his throat.

“Aww, stow it, dick-breath. Ya jizzed yerself paws-free from that. After this, yer gonna be back for more, ain’t ya?” Giggling wildly, she set about unfastening the cuffs and spreader bar, allowing Ben to slump to the floor in the mixed pool of liquids. She gave him an appraising once-over. At this point, she probably wouldn’t even need to truss him for another round, but it looked like all the fun had been screwed out of him for the time being. Better to head home for some grub and some sleep. Tomorrow was another day after all!

A bit of rummaging around beneath the counter landed Trixie a pair of large canvas bags (as well as a bucket of Skitty lube, and a few other goodies), which served nicely to contain her loot. A sigh of mixed satisfaction and regret left her as she removed her strap-on, adding it to one of the bags. She’d need to stop at a stream or something too; her fur was a mess!

Trixie paused before leaving, surveying her handiwork. Pinkies were more trouble than they were worth, most of the time, but places like this almost made up for it. Almost. As an afterthought, she tromped over to the prone Ben, reached down, and dipped her claws into her slick folds. The only reaction when she smeared the gathered fluid under his nose was an exhausted twitch, but she supposed there was no need to punish him for that.

“A lil’ something to remember me by. See ya, blubber ball!”

With that parting shot, Trixie was away into the night. Ben hadn’t understood the words of course, but if he had, he might have laughed. Years of therapy wouldn’t be enough to forget Trixie’s visit. Though, maybe he didn’t need to forget it. Maybe what he really needed was a typhlosion for himself. That, or a good ditto... with a strap-on.

Moments after Trixie’s successful escape, several motorcycles screeched to a halt in front of the store, sirens and flashers creating a stir. Several officers (one of which happened to be the same one who had given her number to Chris earlier in the day) rushed the store, slapped the groggy Ben in a set of handcuffs, and started to lead him away.

“Wha’s happening?” he managed, stumbling along behind the officers. Abruptly, it registered that he was naked, and in the presence of females. He tried to bring his hands around to cover himself, only to find that, once again, they were locked securely behind his back.

Multiple witnesses reported a typhlosion leaving the building, strapped into an erotic harness from your shop. You are charged with molesting pokemon, since of course they are unable to give their consent. Because of your selfishness, that poor female is going to be stuck in the woods, unable to remove that device for days. Think of the harm it might cause her. What do you have to say for yourself you pervert?!”

“Uhhh, not guilty? The security cams...” he trailed off. Oh crap. He hadn’t turned them back on after his ‘After hours fun’ a couple nights ago. The only footage on them would be days old.

Crap. I’m so screwed.

“No! You don’t understand! She raped me!”

“Can it, scumball,” one of the officer’s spat. “You expect us to believe a harmless little pokémon came into your store on her own, put that toy on, subdued you and had her way with you? How dumb do you think we are? Pokémon don’t rape people with toys!”

Wisely, Ben didn’t respond to that question, as he was strapped down to the back of one of the motorbikes.

Officer Jenny gave his backside an appraising look, and gestured to one of her companions. “Think we should tack on indecent exposure? I’ve had a good run with those today. Must be full moon or something.” Then, she realized something and looked lower, restraining a gasp of shock. He was still gaping and dripping. If he started a wild pokémon off with a toy like that, he must really like it big. Maybe when things quiet down... And who knows? Might be months before he’s released.

“Officers... I think I can handle him.”

FI-

Except, that isn’t the end, though it is an ending, because there is no end to the story of Trixie...You just won’t ever learn most of the rest. Tomorrow was indeed another day.