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To be chosen for the Area Zero expedition was the honor of a lifetime. Sure, perhaps you were little more than a porter; Heath was the real star of the show, leading a daring group of scientists and explorers down into the uncharted depths. But you have never been one over-hungry for glory. Perhaps you, pokemon-less and chosen only for your noncombative nature, are merely brought along to carry the weight and shoulder a pack. But you are shouldering the packs of a venture that could very well change the world, and that is glory enough.
The Great Crater of Paldea is dangerous. This you know. But perhaps you didn’t realize how dangerous. The beasts in the depths are unlike anything you’ve ever seen: mysterious pokemon as grand as they are rough, with tusks and claws and plated armor that draws mutters from the archeologists brought along. They sketch furiously in their books and compare blurry photos they snapped with those of specimens in museums and you get the sense that even if everything is beyond you, you are still part of something wonderful.
But the creatures below are not to be trifled with. Occasional attacks and raids whittle down the expedition by one member, and then another. Quickly, Heath’s expedition learns to encircle its tents at night, always having one of the few pokemon brought along standing vigil. But even this is not enough to fully deter the incursions—as you discover yourself one night.
You are half-dozing in your tent, the gloom of the evening dark and oppressive. The rumbling of the Great Crater’s distant waterfalls sends mist carousing through the air and lulls you into a half-slumber. Despite the danger of your surroundings, it is as safe as you feel.
Until, suddenly, you don’t feel safe at all.
The sudden skittering and scratching of claws against stone is all the warning you have before a beast tears through your tent canvas like rice paper. Even in the darkness, you recognize its shape as one of the rare pokemon here in the crater: a hulking, bipedal creature at least as big as a man, with diamond-patterned white-and-azure scales that flow down two long, whipping tails. Despite its saurian nature, there’s a strangely leonine tilt to its face, and a rich indigo mane sweeps from its neck to swallow its upper body. A crystalline crest perches atop the crown of its head.
From the way it commands water, the explorers have named this specimen Walking Wake. Considered dangerous like all the others, they kept their distance—but now, it’s here in person.
You hear the clamor of the camp raise up and you stare at the beast in fear. Its eyes, yellow and dark orange, gleam hungrily in the dark. There’s the scuffle of the expedition’s pokemon approaching and Walking Wake chitters angrily, deciding to flee, but not without its catch. One of its tails whips around your waist like a vise, and you’re dragged off with a sudden wail. In the darkness, you see the campfire and the lights of your companions’ eyes receding, and then there is nothing but night—night, and the shuffle and power of the pokemon that has claimed you.
You think to its fangs and claws and hope that when it devours you, it’ll make it quick.
Walking Wake ranges through the crater, ghosting past trees covered in creeping crystal and behind crevasses draped with hanging moss. You quickly give up on trying to free yourself; the dino pokemon’s tail cannot be pried free, and the beast ignores your attempts to beat your fist against it. You give up, too, on trying to find a way back. The crater is too large and unfamiliar, and Walking Wake’s speed and winding route make it impossible to trace a mental path in your head.
After what feels like hours of journeying, Walking Wake stalks into a low, cozy den excavated from beneath a cliff overhang. It hurls you contemptuously against the ground and breath wheezes from your lungs. Stunned, you can barely move and lack even the breath for protest as the beast lumbers up to you. With its claws, it easily slashes your clothes into ribbons, the better to expose your flesh to its hungers.
Your body is average-sized but well-muscled from a life of labor, with a sheen of sweat and a decently-sized cock for your build that is crowned with a tuft of curly hair. Your mouth feels dry. Where will the beast start digging into you? Your flank? Your neck? Your arms?
The raptor pokemon snuffles close, nose flaring as it drinks in your scent. It stops, apparently intrigued, down around your groin, and takes a tentative lick against your penis. The pokmeon’s tongue is slick and smooth, and surprisingly warm. Pleasure thrums through you despite yourself, and you can’t help but wheeze a surprised moan through your lips.
The two tails whip around and begin poking and probing at you. Walking Wake now looks more curious than furious, with a playful and inquisitive gleam in its eye that reminds you of a Meowth eying a shiny coin. You’re still mostly paralyzed, but even if you weren’t, you’d let the beast do its thing. Better to indulge its curiosity than to provoke it into attacking.
One of the tails pokes around your upper body, pushing against your sensitive nipples—they have grown uncomfortably stiff in the evening cold—before reaching up to trace your collarbone. The other is exploring your cock, wrapping and coiling around it. The scales are rough but not unpleasantly so, and the touch makes you hard despite yourself.
As your erection grows, Walking Wake looks intrigued. It snuffles closer, eyes gleaming, and noses curiously at your penis. The tip of its tail wraps around the base of your cock and squeezes tight and you moan again, and the other tail slithers up to dance at your mouth.
The first tail undulates lower, caressing your balls slightly with addictively gentle pressure, and then it goes behind, finding your ass. The tip of the tail pokes at your sphincter and your eyes widen. Wait—not, not there! You mewl something wordless and Walking Wake, deciding it likes the sound you’re making, wants you to give it more.
The tail slips into you.
Immediately your ass radiates with a blossom of sensation: the initial sharp bite of penetration that unfurls into a thudding, radiating drumbeat of pleasure that spreads through your body. You can feel it creeping like a growing vine, spreading through your groin and thighs and behind your navel.
“Oooaaahhhhnnnn,” you moan lewdly from the sensation. Oh god, one of these pokemon is fucking you? It’s better than being devoured, but still… you find yourself blushing, not only from pleasure, but from the humiliation of if Heath or the others saw. You find yourself hoping they aren’t chasing you down. “Gnnnahhh—GLRK! Gmm—gmmmhrkkl!”
Ah, right, Walking Wake has two tails—and one was exploring your mouth. The open chasm was too inviting as you moaned, it seems, and now the beast’s other tail is plunging in.
Just as the first tail is probing deep and deeper into your ass, squirming around in a way that makes your cock stiffen and your eyes water with unwanted delight, the other one quickly snakes toward the back of your throat. It presses against your esophagus and your attempts to keep it out are fruitlessness incarnate. It quickly wriggles down.
By the gods, that smarts; your eyes water even more and you whine pathetically through your nose, a sound that draws a smug-looking grin from Walking Wake. You can feel your neck bulging around it; though the whippet tip of the tail is thin, it quickly lengthens, and it’s like having a giant, flexible penis inside. The tail flexes and then lunges deep inside and you lurch, your vision momentarily blurring, as you deepthroat the monster’s appendage.
And that’s not the only one that is picking up its pace. Walking Wake’s tail in your ass is squirming deeper and the feeling is unreal. The small, lumpy protrusions on its tail pop against your sphincter as they slide in, each one slightly larger than the last. They beat a sharp tattoo of writhing pleasure from your ass all through the rest of you. The flexible tip wriggles deeper, invading your gut, and you moan pathetically as the trunk of the tail’s muscle pushes against walls that never had anything in them before. You can’t imagine how many inches are in you now…
Still looking smug and intrigued, Walking Wake apparently decides to play with its new pet a little more, and that’s when it happens.
The tails each start pumping into you in opposite rhythm, tag-teaming your holes. Your sex-weak body loses what little composure it had, your legs limp and your muscles spasming. Only your cock remains stalwart, quickly growing to full mast with a beautiful bead of pre gleaming at the tip. You hate that you like this, but you can’t help it; your body is being savagely, ruthlessly fucked by a dinosaur, and the pleasure you get washes over you and makes you hard.
The tail in your ass surges in, fucking you, and as it pulls out the nubs on it snap free of your hole and threaten to make you cum. It’s like an endless pitter-patter of unforgiving pleasure, an unbreakable chain of delight that refuses to let up. The ache of the sudden emptiness is only momentary, as Walking Wake incessantly plunges it back in yet again, stuffing you full and making you sore and full and hard. Sexual thrill radiates through your body.
Your mouth, too, is the site of the pokemon’s play. Lewd, pathetic noises crawl out of your hole, the only sounds you’re able to make: “Gllrk… gnnnggghhuh… mmmfphmml…” You wonder if someone hearing these would even recognize them as noises a human was capable of making, or if they would simply write it off as the bestial lowings of an animal getting thoroughly fucked. Your neck is bulging as Walking Wake’s tail slams in, and the pressure is unbearable and delightful. The strain alone threatens to make you cum.
Walking Wake is nuzzling your cock now, snuffling and chirruping at it. The warm tongue returns and laps a bit of pre. You huff for breath through your nose and crane your head as little you are able. Your cock isn’t the only one on display; Walking Wake is sporting a thick red erection of its own, an exotically grooved spire that sprouts from between its legs. Will it use that on you, you wonder? Is this entire endurance test just a bit of foreplay?
The tail in your ass suddenly flexes against your prostate and you break. The orgasm erupts like a volcano; your hips jut up and you whine and keen pathetically as sticky white cum splatters everywhere. Some of it speckles Walking Wake’s nose and the mysterious pokemon licks its snout clean, looking excited.
Your heart hammering and your lungs heaving, your body crests down from orgasm and you feel the two tails slip out at a slower pace. Is… is it done? Did the dino pokemon fulfill its needs? Thank goodness… They slip out of your two holes and you moan raggedly, your voice weak and hoarse.
But you’re a fool if you think that this would satisfy such a dominant, feral creature. Or had you forgotten Walking Wake’s own unsatisfied erection?
The rough claws of the pokemon seize you and flip you over so that your ass—still sore, and slightly gaping from the recent fucking you got—is on display, and you realize what’s coming.
“Nnnooooooo,” you moan pathetically. You try to crawl away but your body is far too weak. You feel the creature mount you, its cock rubbing against your ass; it feels strong and slick. The ridges are playing against your sensitive flesh. “Pleeeaasssee…”
Ignoring you, Walking Wake shoves right in and your mind hiccups. Oh… oh fuck it’s big! The tail was one thing but even at its narrowest, Walking Wake’s dino-dick is far larger. Tapered at the tip, it quickly expands, its surface edged by reptilian bumps and ridges. You can feel every centimeter of them inside of you, playing against your walls and stuffing you whole. It feels… oh, it aches, and yet you can’t deny that a part of you likes this. The stretch, the strain; it’s the sort of ache that is indistinguishable from pleasure, and your body is weak and jellied and accepting. Right now you’re this creature’s little fuck-thing, and part of you likes it.
Positioning itself over you like the triumphant predator it is, Walking Wake arches its head and croons in triumph and then really starts letting you have it.
The sex is ferocious. The beast slams into your hole in such a way that leaves your whole body weak and limp, and you find yourself perversely glad that it loosened you up with its tail first. You can’t even imagine what it would have felt like taking it raw. The thick cock spreads you apart easily, and the act sends shockwaves through your whole body. You feel them dancing down your limbs to your fingernails and the tips of your toes; they settle behind your eyelids and leave you flushed with pleasure. This is the sort of bliss that only comes from being used by something; something feral, something bestial, something determined to use you to sate itself without any regard for anything else.
You’ve been reduced to a wild fuckpet and fuck, you actually like it.
Walking Wake keeps pounding your ass and the ridges along its cock quickly prove themselves even more addictive than the nubs on its tail. They wind and run in odd ways, kissing your sphincter as they slip in or applying addictive pressure to your prostate as the beast squats inside your hole. Sometimes the beast holds still for a few seconds and you can feel its already-significant cock engorge even more. The feeling of the growth inside of you leaves you rocking with feedback. You babble helplessly against the stone floor of the pokemon’s den.
Tears pepper your eyes—tears from the joy of it all, tears from the unreality of it all, tears from the humiliation. By all the gods, you pray that Heath and the others never find you. They could never see you like this: bent over, an animal’s plaything, taking wild cock and liking it. Your own cock is back at full mast, recent orgasm be damned, and aches with need. You can feel it pulsing in time with your racing heart.
After a few ruthless minutes, Walking Wake shifts its position and starts mashing even deeper against you. The renewed onslaught leaves every thrust rubbing your prostate and you cum almost instantly, your voice choking and your vision haloing as you jet your spunk directly down onto the floor. But Walking Wake doesn’t care. It fucks you straight through your orgasm, the ongoing thrusts blending with the bodywide clench of orgasmic bliss to create an addictive new mélange that threatens to overwhelm you. The beast hilts in you, its hips smashing against your asscheeks, and you feel the cock in its totality squatting inside your loose sore hole, claiming you irrevocably as a pokemon’s toy.
Walking Wake hilts again, and then again, and then the beast holds there and trumpets and you can feel the cock pulse a split second before it happens and oh god—it’s flooding you, it’s pumping you full of cum, you can feel it splashing and spraying your insides. You moan helplessly, face down in the dirt, as you’re stuffed full of monster cum. It settles deep in you, hot and heavy, and it doesn’t stop coming.
That’s right… this is a Water-type pokemon. And they’re known for extreme productivity.
The cum doesn’t stop, not after what would have passed for five loads from a human, not after what would have passed for ten. You can feel your stomach bloating with the strain as the cum settles in you, heavy and sloshing, and you hiccup despite yourself. The act draws some of the aroma up your throat; it’s tart and salty, with a hint of the sea in there somewhere. Walking Wake humps your ass a few more times, the gesture making your body slosh as it shakes, and dumps one last load in you before calling it quits. As the pokemon slides out you roll onto your side, your belly looking like you swallowed a watermelon. You grasp it incredulously and hiccup again, and this time the taste is sharper and you feel a little bit of cum dribble out of the corner of your mouth and settle on your lower lip.
The light outside is changing to the pink of dawn, and you can see that your stomach too is starting to pinken with strain from containing all that cum. You reach a trembling finger towards it and stroke; even that light, feathery touch is almost too much for your sore body and you shudder, groaning, as you feel more cum trickle out of your hole.
Walking Wake plods over near the entrance of its den and nests down, gleaming eyes fixed on you. It’s chosen to sleep in a spot to impede any escape from you, but the thought is laughable. You’ve been so thoroughly fucked that you probably won’t be able to rise under your own power until the next day. Though by then, Walking Wake will have likely indulged itself again.
No, it doesn’t seem like the beast wants to eat you; it has a different hunger in mind. And from the way its eyes remain fixed on you, the way its cock remains at half-mast, you get the feeling that this pokemon is going to play with its new toy for a good long while to come—and you’re under no delusions that you’re escaping until it’s done.