NARRATOR: After another long and exciting day in their journey across the fascinating world
of Pokemon, our intrepid heroes are hitting the hay once more for a well deserved rest. But
what's this? It seems that one of the gang might be having a hard time drifting off to sleep.
##
Brock was laying on his sleeping mat, staring up at the stars with a sad expression on his
handsome, angular face. He let out a small sigh and glanced around the campsite. His good
friends Ash, Misty and Pikachu were sound asleep on their cots beside a smouldering fire.
The trees lining their camp rustled softly in a warm, gentle breeze. Overhead, two skittish
Zubat flitted by, dancing against a twinkling skybox, and everything seemed right with the
world. Almost everything, that is.
Earlier in the day Brock and his friends had been celebrating his eighteenth birthday, and
he had prepared a veritable feast for the occasion. As they sat enjoying their jelly donuts,
an almost imperceptible ripple in the fundamental structure of reality passed through Brock.
It was a strange sensation, like something had shifted within him. Whatever it was, it had
set his heart racing. A new and unfamiliar feeling had begun to stir between his legs, this
curious, electrifying tension that called out for relief. And it had been growing ever since.
When he was certain that his companions were all fast asleep, Brock crept out of bed, slipped
into his trademark brown pants, orange shirt and green vest and started out towards the
shadowy wooded area they'd passed en route to the campsite. Rumour had it that these woods
were haunted. Several creepy mysteries had been reported recently, none of which had been
resolved, but Brock wasn't afraid. He was sure to find the privacy he needed to figure out
what was happening to him, and after all, he had his Pokemon with him for protection.
As Brock approached the edge of the woods, he heard a rustling sound beyond the treeline. He
turned his head just in time to catch a glimpse of a golden yellow blur rushing towards him.
Caught off guard, his body tensed, and he spun around reflexively, reaching for Onix's
pokeball like a gunslinger for his pistol. The blur came to a screeching halt just ahead of
him, and Brock found himself staring into the fierce crimson eyes of a magnificent Pokemon.
The creature's coat was as black as the night sky and adorned with golden bands of fur that
shimmered with a magical luminescence in the moonlight. It was a wondrous sight, and Brock
held his breath unconsciously.
Suddenly, an unfamiliar voice called out, "Umbreon! Where are you?"
Two mysterious figures emerged hurriedly from the gloom, and the Umbreon scurried over to
the taller man to brush against his leg in greeting, like a cat. Brock exhaled, relieved to
have those intense eyes off him.
"Bon soir! I'm sorry, I hope he didn't startle you?" said the man in a thick Kalosian accent.
Both men wore elegantly stylish outfits and had sleek, colourful hairstyles. The one that had
spoken knelt down to pet his four-legged companion.
"Bree!" trilled the Pokemon, happily.
"There you are mon amie! And who is this you have found? Good evening! I am Charles, and
this is my travelling companion, Michael. I see you've already met our energetic little
friend. He gets rather too excitable when the moon is full, I'm afraid."
"Oh, it's no problem," the young gym leader said. "He just surprised me is all. My name's
Brock. My friends and I are camping just up the hill." He gestured towards the meandering path
behind him.
"A pleasure to meet you, Brock," said Charles, smiling. "But what brings you out here so late,
and all alone? You should be tucked up in bed, non?"
"Well, I couldn't sleep," Brock admitted. "I suppose I have some things on my mind, and I
don't get a lot of time on my own..." He trailed off and shuffled his feet awkwardly. He was
too embarrassed to confess that a new, sexual dimension had somehow been edited onto his
reality by forces unknown, but he was also a terrible liar.
Charles and Michael exchanged curious glances, spying the obvious tent in Brock's trousers.
"Oh, but of course! Everyone needs a little, uh, self-reflection now and then," said Charles
with a wink. "If you follow the path just here, you'll come to a picturesque little spot just
off the beaten track. It's quite secluded and could suit your needs perfectly, I think. But
with that, we must be on our way back to our abode. This little terror has kept us out late
enough! Goodbye, bon nuit!"
Brock said goodbye with a little wave and watched as the Kalosians and their Umbreon wandered
away. "What nice guys," he thought to himself, setting off in the direction they had indicated.
"A little odd, but they sure seemed friendly."
A narrow, leaf-strewn path wound its way through the trees and Brock followed it carefully to
avoid tripping on the roots and branches blocking his way. The faint, distant call of a lone
Hoothoot was the only sound to break the silence. Eventually he came across a clearing where
bright silver moonlight shone down upon an old, mossy rock. The stone's smooth, springy
covering made it an inviting place to sit. Charles had been right, this was the perfect spot.
Brock stripped and settled on the boulder, placing his neatly folded clothes beside him. His
body was lean and muscular, and hard as granite thanks to the countless hours he had spent
training with his team of rock-type Pokemon. Between strong thighs, a long, straight cock
jutted out, as solid as the rest of his physique. Nestled beneath were two heavy balls, so
full and in need of draining that they were literally turning a shade of blue. He had to do
something, and fast.
Shivering with anticipation, Brock closed his fist firmly around himself. "Here goes nothing,"
he thought, and started stroking. The feeling was intense, out-of-this-world, like nothing
he'd experienced before. He had never paid any attention to his anatomy down there before,
and neither had anyone else come to think of it. It was as though whatever supernatural force
that had afflicted him had opened his eyes to a part of himself that had either never existed
before, or had somehow been hidden, even from himself.
As Brock explored these new sensations, a sudden sound shattered his focus. Startled, he
flung open his eyes only to be met with the mesmerizing purple flare of a psychic-type attack
hurtling through the dark towards him. He tried to dodge, but it was far too late. Everything
went black.
##
Charles and Michael stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlit clearing, their faces
obscured by darkness.
"Good work Gengar, return!" said Michael. A sinister red glow illuminated the area
momentarily as the pokeball recalled its resident.
"Out like a light." That was Charles.
The pair walked over to where Brock was slumped, asleep. He was snoring softly, a string of
fluffy, cloud-like Zs floating above his head. Michael tossed the naked boy over his shoulder
like he was a sack full of treasure, and together he and Charles strode off deeper into the
shapeless night.
##
"Do you think he's ok in there?" asked Michael, with a hint of concern in his voice. He
snapped his fingers once, twice in front of Brock's face. "Anyone home?"
They had smuggled their prize back to an isolated cabin deep in the forest, and while Michael
sat rolling an impressively fat blunt, Charles instructed his Pokemon to use a barrage of
mind-warping moves on Brock; Attract, Confusion, Charm, Trick Room, and so on. It had had a
transformative effect. Brock's eyes, famously narrow, were now princess-pink and shaped like
love hearts, his consciousness tucked away inside some fantasy where all of his dreams came
true. Until the effects wore off, he was essentially their mindless, drooling sex-doll.
"Are you kidding? Look at him, he's great!" said Charles, taking off his clothes. He'd lost
the ridiculous fake accent. "He's probably having the time of his life. It'll wear off
eventually and he'll be fine, trust me."
Although Charles and Michael were simply tourists on this plane of existence, sent here by
some mystical means, their physical forms were constructed according to its same cartoonish
rules, albeit with one major, striking difference. In addition to their cutely simplistic
yet expressive anime features, they had huge cocks, big hairy balls and tight, furry bubble
butts, all rendered in an exaggerated, mouth-watering style more akin to the output of some
X-rated bara artist.
"This whole aesthetic looks kinda preposterous," Michael thought to himself, poking the
gigantic bulge that filled his briefs, "but it does have a certain charm to it." He sparked
the blunt and went with it, embracing the surreal nature of his surroundings.
Meanwhile, Charles was on the bed twisting Brock into all sorts of acrobatic positions like
an action figure. He was really pigging out, sniffing and licking every inch of the naked,
incapacitated trainer with a passionate, single-minded determination. Armpits, taint, feet,
ball sack, each one thoroughly explored and savoured. Brock was extremely pliable in this
enchanted state and, despite his sublimation, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the shit that
was happening to him. He gasped and groaned with the enthusiasm of a porn star as Charles
sucked softly on his smooth, puckered asshole.
Inside Brock's mind: the sky was a bizarre, shifting hue of pinks, purples, and blues, and
the clouds formed impossible shapes like giant fluffy Mareep and towering Golurk. The ground
was covered in glittering shards that sparkled and shone in the ever-changing light, and the
trees were alive, their branches waving in time to the music that filled the air. As Brock
wandered through this magical wonderland, he saw countless Nurse Joys and Officer Jennies,
each one more beautiful than the last. They laughed and played, beckoning him to join in the
fun. Brock felt himself smiling, his heart filled with pure joy and wonder. He danced with
the Joys, their hands clasped together as they spun around in circles, and he chased
after the Jennies as they giggled and teased him. The colours around him grew brighter and
more vibrant, until he felt as though he was floating in a sea of pure light and energy. It
was bliss.
Back in the real world: Charles had positioned Brock on all fours and was aggressively
thrusting his oversized dick in and out of the boy's wide-open mouth. Spit was drooling out
over his lips, and Charles' balls made crude, wet slapping sounds every time they smacked
against his chin. Michael finally stubbed out the smoke and sauntered over, slipping off his
underwear as he went. He gave the monster dangling between his thighs a few quick tugs and
then lined it up with Brock's tiny, star-shaped asshole. The sheer difference in size made
Michael wonder if it would even fit but, as he pushed, it bloomed like a flower around him,
easily taking it all to the hilt.
"Whoa!" said Michael, "That's fuckin' weird. His hole's got this really smooth, rubbery
texture to it, almost more like a sex toy than a real ass." He grabbed Brock's hips and gave
him a few short, hard thrusts. "Still feels fucking good, though. Hey, how did he smell? You
were really going to town."
"Uh, pretty great," said Charles with a thoughtful expression on his face, "but there's also
something kinda strange. He smells exactly like you'd expect a horny eighteen year old to
smell; dirty, sweaty, kinda funky. Really fucking hot. But then, hidden beneath that,
there's this other layer, like marker paper and something else, something chemical. I didn't
notice it at first, but it's there. I think it's just the background noise of this place." He
waved his hand around in a circular motion to indicate their surroundings, this colourful world
they had found themselves in. Then he pushed Brock's face down into the bedsheets, grabbed his
ample butt cheeks and spread them wide for Michael's onslaught.
They took turns switching between ass and mouth for a while, sharing their prey like a meal,
enjoying the sight of each other's outlandishly over-sexualised bodies pounding away at Brock
as he flopped and flailed between them like a ragdoll. Suddenly, a lightbulb flashed above
Charles' head. He'd had a great idea.
He arranged the others so that Brock was impaled on Charles as he perched on the edge of the
bed, leaving enough room for Michael to slip in behind. Slowly but firmly he pushed his way
into the occupied asshole, sliding against the length of Charles' thick shaft until he too
was fully engulfed. With both big dicks thrusting alongside each other in the tight,
silicone-like embrace of Brock's guts, it wasn't long before their frenzied assault reached
its crescendo.
"Uhhhnnnn," Charles grunted as he erupted, eyes scrunched shut as the orgasm rocked his
body. Michael could feel his friend's cock throbbing against his own, and then the wet,
liquid warmth of the load as it flooded Brock's hole. The sensations sent Michael into a
frenzy and he really started slamming it home, churning Charles's cum into a creamy froth
that streaked along the length of his shaft with every pounding thrust. A few frantic strokes
later and Michael was unloading too. He cried out as his balls emptied, a flood unleashed,
sending a torrent of seed up into Brock's deep, fucked-out asshole.
"Holy fucking shit," he gasped, breathless.
As their deflating dicks slipped out a huge wave of thick, milky sperm sloshed onto the
bedsheets, filling the room with its tangy, acrid scent. The boy's gaping, dripping hole had
started to swell from enduring a brutal double fuck from two such improbably sized cocks, and
was glowing an angry red. Charles leaned over and softly wrapped his lips around the puffy
butthole, sucking hungrily but gently on it, and was rewarded with a delicious mouthful of
gooey sperm and ass-juice, which he gulped down like precious nectar. Brock moaned softly in
his sleep.
"Fuck, that's hot," said Michael, gazing at Charles as he made out with the beautiful
asshole that together they had so thoroughly trashed. He was clearly in pig heaven, slurping
and sucking on Brock's hole like an over-ripe fruit, getting its juices all over his face.
As Michael watched, he scooped a fistful of jizz from the pool on the bed and smeared it over
his arm 'til it was thoroughly lubricated.
"Don't suck it all out bro," said Michael, "I wanna go deeper."
Charles' mouth detached from Brock's enlarged ass lips with an audible 'pop', and Michael
scooted over to slip four cum-coated fingers inside the impressive gape. The oozing orifice
offered no resistance, so Michael made a fist and started pushing. Before he knew it, his
strong, muscular arm was elbow deep. "Jesus. This boy can take anything."
"Let's test that theory, huh?" said Charles as he knelt, slathering their cum-lube all over
his arm. This time, he would be the one to force his way in alongside his friend, stretching
Brock unbelievably wide. Their hands came together deep inside him, fingers interlaced, and
both began to pump their arms in unison. The deeper they went, the harder Brock's cock seemed
to become, and soon it was twitching and bouncing around wildly as the two older men raided
his insides. As they plumbed his depths even more man-juice squirted out around their arms,
spraying onto their massive, hairy pecs. They were drenched. It didn't seem possible that
just the two of them could have produced such an outlandish volume of cum, but in this
reality everything seemed to be implausibly exaggerated.
With every gut-churning punch, Brock's gasps and moans became deeper and more animalistic, an
almost inhuman sound that rumbled from his chest. Just as Michael started to worry that they
were pushing him too far, the boy's swollen balls finally reached their limit. His engorged
cock, steel-hard, began to erupt in the most spectacular, volcanic way. Dozens of thick white
ropes fired out from his violently spasming shaft. The first few volleys splattered onto the
ceiling and dripped back down in thick, viscous globs. The rest sprayed out in all directions
like an uncontrollable fire-hose, glazing Brock, his captors and the rest of the room in
gallons of hot, salty spunk.
Stunned, they wiped the cum-splatter from their faces, then laughed at the absurdity of it all.
They carefully extricated their arms from Brock's cavernous hole then watched it slowly
contract and reshape back into its original, puckered form. Miraculously, it seemed they had
done no lasting damage. Totally spent, Charles put a slippery arm around his buddy's shoulder
and admired the image they'd created together: Brock in all his gorgeous, naked glory,
sleeping peacefully in a huge pool of cum, with a satisfied expression on his handsome,
angular face.
##
Some time later, Charles and Michael stealthily returned Brock to his bedroll at the campsite.
They had hosed him down in the shower, and re-dressed him as best they could. As they snuck
away, disappearing into the darkness, another strange ripple passed through the world,
reversing the effects of Brock's mysterious condition. When he awoke it was as if the night's
events had never happened, save for a lingering feeling of contentment and satisfaction that
he couldn't quite explain.
"I guess I just got a great night's sleep!" he thought to himself.
