This is a pokemon fic commissioned by nicobay's sofurry avatar Nicobay

ch 1 - ch 2 - ch 3 - ch 4

After that, it was a few days before he saw Derrick again. They didn't hang out every day; it wasn't unusual, but... but after what had happened, Cole kept expecting to see him everywhere, Magne in tow. The evening after that, in the middle of his dad's pokemon training, Gouille leered at him, unmistakably: the huge Druddigon's eyes flicked over his body, and his fanged maw cracked open, tongue hanging out. Cole's gaze flicked down to the dragon's crotch, his cock still (thankfully) sheathed, and then he basically ran away. Afterward he jerked off thinking about it: Gouille ripping his clothes off and fucking him into the ground in front of everyone.

So when he ran into Derrick the next day, he opened with "I think I'm gonna go on a pokemon journey."

Derrick blinked. They were out front of the pokemart; Derrick had sauntered over, hands in his pockets, and said "Hey, sup."

"Really?" Derrick said, and Cole ducked his head, flushing.

"I mean-- It's not because, um... any of... anything that... happened. Or, anything like that, it's just... something I've been thinking about," he said, finally trailing off.

Derrick just kind of leered at him too, with a look that said exactly what he was thinking. "Well, you know," he said, after a pause, "I think Prof. Cedar's got some starters left over, after, you know, all the thirteen year-olds got theirs."

"Shut up, man," Cole said.

"No, seriously, she's got a few hanging around, she'd totally give you one." Derrick jerked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the lab. "It's visiting hours, too, you could just go right in."

Cole -- he had to be honest, he was only dimly thinking about getting out of town for a while, taking some time to clear his head, but as Derrick said it the idea solidified in his head. He could go on a pokemon journey. He wasn't a trainer or anything, but he knew more about pokemon than an eighth-grader.

He found himself heading to the lab, Derrick ambling beside him, arm swung over his shoulder. It was a sunny day, and he could smell Derrick's sweat, bringing him back to the time just a few days ago, when... except he stopped thinking about it, already flushed and half-hard. It was a good thing Magne wasn't with him, for once. Just thinking about the Charmeleon had him flashing back to being on his knees, panting and begging as Magne shot his load all over his face. He walked into the lab adjusting himself in his jeans, face bright red. Derrick gave him another look.

He stumbled through a conversation with Prof. Cedar, talking about maybe finally following in his dad's footsteps, and she left him with the traditional choice of three pokeballs -- "Sorry they don't match," she said, "but it is the off season."

"Is that a Weedle?!" Derrick said, staring at the leftmost one, and Cole closed his eyes and reached out for one of the others, listening for the tell-tale click of the pokeball opening to disgorge a...

He had to get out his pokedex (also new) to look it up. It looked like a ball of snot. "a... Goomy," he said, looking down at it. Him, apparently. The Goomy squirmed, leaving a slime trail on the table, and squeaked. "Well, okay." He knelt down, until he was looking at it straight on. "Hey there, buddy. You wanna go on an adventure with me?" The Goomy squeaked again, fronds trembling, and leapt onto his head. Derrick started laughing.

Cole made a face at the warm slime dripping down his scalp, matting his hair down. "Oh, whatever, dude."

"You know what, I've been meaning to go out and collect some badges too," Derrick said, stepping closer. "We could be rivals!"

Cole looked down at Derrick's pokemon belt, full up -- and he wondered which six, if it was any of the ones who'd fucked him -- and back up. "What, with my one pokemon against yours?"

Derrick shrugged. "Well, I'd skip the first fight. And anyway," he said, stepping closer, voice hissing in Cole's ear, "I know exactly what kind of forfeit my pokemon would want from you, every time you lose."

Cole let out a weak whimper, thinking of himself stripped in the center of a dirt-lined arena, out in the open, with Derrick's pokemon mounting him like feral animals. His Goomy made a curious "Ooo?" and Cole staggered back, half-hard. "We're in a science lab," he hissed, beet red, "Could you not?"

Derrick just grinned at him, rocking back on his heels. "Think about it," he said.

By mid-afternoon he'd told his parents, (his dad: "Finally!"; his mom: "Well, dear, I was expecting this a few years ago..."; Gouille had honestly looked disappointed,) gotten some coaching from Prof. Cedar and Derrick about the care of pokemon, and been kitted out with a few spare potions and pokeballs. He felt weighed down with responsibility, and also by his Goomy, who hadn't left his head since he'd jumped on.

And honestly, he felt kind of guilty, considering he'd only gotten the idea to take his mind off of how he'd gotten gang-banged by pokemon a few days ago. Which he was still not thinking about, aside from constantly, every time Derrick shifted and his shirt rode up to reveal his pokeballs. He found himself staring, thinking about if Derrick would... tilt his head and pull him back into the forest, take out Leo and watch the huge pokemon mount him, jerking off while he watched -- he shook his head, trying to shake out the thought, and his Goomy squealed again, thrashing on his head, excited.

"So you're really going through with it, huh?" Derrick said, loitering by the route out of town, Magne behind him.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Figure I should give you a day or two head start, you know, to catch up." He leaned closer, voice lower. "But you know, I talked with some of my pokemon, and they all know just what kind of reward they'll get for beating you."

Cole stammered, heat spreading high on his cheeks, and then Derrick pecked him on the cheek and pulled back like it was nothing. "Well, good luck!" he said, chipper.

So Cole set out on his pokemon journey.

His enthusiasm for his pokemon journey lasted for about ten minutes, before he settled in for the long hike to the next town over -- through the forest, over the bridge, down into a cave; it was really kind of a hassle. And -- even with his Goomy on his head (and he really needed to think of a name for him, "his Goomy" just didn't have much of a ring to it) he couldn't stop thinking about Derrick, heading off behind him. There was no way he'd win any kind of pokemon fight with him, and the thought of him unleashing all six of his pokemon, using him one after the other... it was perverse, but he was painfully hard in his jeans at the thought of it.

That might've been why he didn't hear the crashing through the underbrush until it was right on top of him. A huge black shape burst out of the forest, letting out a whinny, and Cole jerked back, almost tripping over his own heels.

It was a Zebstrika: horselike, with a black-and-white coat, zig-zagging in sharp, hooked lines. It had a mane of white fur all the way down its back, to its jagged lightning-bolt tail. More importantly, it looked angry. Cole fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his pokedex as he warily kept his distance. He was pretty sure Zebstrika were classified as pretty high-level pokemon.

"Um," he said. "Uh, Goomy, use... Bubble?" His Goomy obligingly puffed up and spat out a stream of bubbles, half of them popping in midair before they hit the Zebstrika, and the rest burst against its body, sharp arcs of electricity dissipating on every point of contact. Cole frowned, still backing away from the wild pokemon. He was pretty sure water-type beat electric-type, but then again, maybe he had it backwards...?

He didn't get a chance to find out: the Zebstrika charged at them, and hit Cole's stomach with a crash, knocking him flat on his back, his Goomy flying off to hit the ground with a thump. The blow knocked the breath from Cole's body, and he spent a few long seconds trying to inhale, gasping on the ground. He sat up just in time to see the Zebstrika charge into his Goomy, sending him flying, knocked out cold. "Goomy!" he yelped, jerking toward him, except that drew the attention of the Zebstrika again, pawing at the ground as if it was going to charge again.

Sprawled out on the ground like this, though, Cole noticed something he definitely hadn't before. Between the Zebstrika's hind legs... well, it was male; really male. Its -- well, his -- cock hung down from a long bloated sheath, the flesh a pure black. The Zebstrika was half-hard, cockhead dripping precome in a steady stream. There was a high whimpering noise, and it took him a second to realize that it came from him, ripped out of his throat as he just stared, unable to tear his eyes from the pokemon's huge cock, even as it stepped closer.

He was rock hard in his jeans, shame warring with desire. This wasn't someone's trained pokemon; this was a wild animal. He could, maybe, excuse fucking around with Magne, who was basically a family friend at this point, but the Zebstrika was just... some wild animal. Cole swallowed, a droplet of precome beading at the tip of his cock, smearing into his underwear. Just some wild animal that wanted to fuck him: now that he was on all fours, looking away, the Zebstrika seemed a lot less aggressive. Heat bloomed across his face, spreading down his neck. If anyone found out about this -- hell, if anyone just happened to see them like this, already, with him on all fours in front of a pokemon, staring at its cock, he'd be shamed out of town. Everyone would know. Hell, his mom would know, and that was just -- he couldn't think about that.

But there was no one around to see: just him, and the Zebstrika. And his poor unconscious Goomy, upside-down at the edge of the clearing, blowing a huge snot bubble.

The Zebstrika's cock flexed, even more of it dropping, until the whole shaft was dangling between his legs, the head dragging through the tall grass. He was close enough Cole could see every little vein, every glossy patch of skin: his cockhead was flat, with a bulging dimple in the center, slowly dripping precome. The ridge of his cockhead was massive, a huge thick swell of flesh around the edge, and behind that his cock was -- well, the Zebstrika was hung like a horse. A fat vein curled around the shaft, branching like a lightning bolt, finger-thick, all the way back to his sheath. There was a thick, fat ridge ringing his cock, halfway down the length, and Cole got a horribly vivid flash of what it would be like to suck on that, the ridge swollen in his mouth, the pokemon's flesh all -- slick? rubbery? hard to the touch? He was about to find out.

The Zebstrika's hooves dug into the dirt just in front of him, their heads not an inch apart. The pokemon snorted, sweet grass-scented breath blowing over him. To Cole it felt like part of his brain just switched off, and compelled by some primal impulse he bowed down, practically crawling under the Zebstrika's legs. The pokemon's cock smelled: thick and musky, rank and animal. There were thin strands of grass stuck to his cockhead, from where it had been dragging against the ground, and Cole just leaned forward, pressing his tongue flat against the pokemon's cockhead, licking through the grassy dirt until the only taste was animal musk. He swallowed, drinking down thin, salty precome by the mouthful.

The Zebstrika trumpeted, cock pulsing in Cole's mouth, and Cole let out a ragged moan, surging forward. He opened as wide as he could, jaw popping as he tried to fit the fist-sized cockhead into his mouth. The Zebstrika's flesh was firm under his lips, stiff and rigid, even though the shaft was rubbery and half-hard. His failing attempts to suck it in were met with fresh spurts of precome, salty-rank in a new way. He moaned again, almost whimpering as he sucked the pokemon's cock, tongue lapping all up and down the broad, flat cockhead.

He was so occupied trying to wrap his mouth around the pokemon's cock, he only noticed the other Zebstrika when one of them slapped him across the face with its cock. He pulled back, dazed, catching a spray of precome across his face, and turned to look. The thin strip of forest was full of Zebstrika -- or, at least, there were three more of them, all equally huge, milling around him. All of them were male, cocks hanging out, and the one standing next to him was rock hard: its shaft kept slapping up against its underbelly, drooling pre onto the ground.

Cole whimpered, wrapping his fingers around the sloppy cockhead of the first Zebstrika as he leaned to the side, pressing his mouth against the new cock. It was absurd, stroking off one wild pokemon while he tried to suck off another, catching spurts of pre across his face and hands. He shifted his legs, achingly-hard cock pressed tight against his jeans, almost painful. If he even touched his cock he'd probably just come all over himself.

Above him, the Zebstrika were snorting and neighing, standing almost side-by-side and turning to butt each other's heads, and below them Cole stroked their cocks, mouth popping off of one oversized cockhead to try and wrap around the other. He was already a mess: they were practically pissing out precome in thick gushes. Every time he pulled off one, it twitched and erupted, splattering thin slime across his face. Slimy precome dribbled down his neck, sticking the collar of his shirt to his chest. His lips were swollen, aching from being stretched so wide, but Cole just couldn't stop: mouth hung open, and panting like a dog he switched between the two Zebstrika. The acrid, salty taste of their pre lingered in his mouth.

One of the Zebstrika -- he'd honestly lost track of which one was the first one -- neighed and reared, crashing heads against the other, forcing the other back so Cole could focus all his attention on its cock. Its shaft was sloppy, shining dark from Cole's dripping-wet hands, and each pump coaxed out a spurt of precome, filling his mouth and bubbling out over his lips. Cole swallowed, drinking down precome like he was drinking from a tap.

His jaw popped again as he tried to take in the full swell of the animal's cockhead, and this time the Zebstrika lurched forward, underbelly clenching as it slammed its cockhead past Cole's lips, forcing the entire thing into his mouth. Cole almost came in his jeans, even as he choked and gasped, unable to breathe. His throat was fucked open, and he just pushed himself deeper on the cock, lips skidding through stiff peaks of precome he'd lathered across the shaft. The huge fat crown of its cock slammed into the back of his throat, almost making him gag, but he just hummed and swallowed, mindlessly stroking the pokemon's shaft, swallowing and swallowing until the bloated cockhead pushed just-right, completely blocking his throat as it forced its way down.

The Zebstrika reared up, hooves kicking the air, and lodged inside his throat Cole felt its cockhead flare. Muscles across the front of the head tensed, forcing it out into a huge wide disc, and even though he choked and gagged he couldn't dislodge it. The Zebstrika's whole cock shuddered, rubbery even though it was fully hard, and erupted. Huge watery bursts of jizz shot down his throat. Cole gagged, throat clenching down hard around the impossible flare of the pokemon's cock, and jizz gushed from his mouth, churning up around the pokemon's flared cock. Thin streams painted the Zebstrika's shaft and underbelly, more dripping down all over Cole's flushed face. The Zebstrika bucked, cock sawing back and forth in his throat, and it just dragged Cole with it, knocking him to hands and knees. There was another huge gush of come, spraying out from Cole's abused mouth, and then it started drooling incredibly thick slime, near-solid chunks of jizz coating his throat and almost gluing it shut.

The Zebstrika pulled back with a jerk, cock pulling from his throat with a hollow, soggy pop, leaving Cole flushed and gasping. He choked on the thick globs of come stuck in his throat, spitting out chunks onto the grass as he struggled to inhale. His ears were full of the sound of his heartbeat, mouth hanging open as he pulled in watery gasps, the air rasping painfully through his abused throat.

Some other Zebstrika got the right idea and tried to mount his face, cock slapping across Cole's flushed cheeks before it hit home. It plunged its fat, rubbery cock halfway down Cole's throat, choking him again, but Cole eagerly swallowed, cheeks hollowing as he sucked on the pokemon's cock. This one, too, came almost instantly: it sawed back and forth, slamming almost of foot of its cock down Cole's throat, until the fat bulge of its medial ring slapped wet and rubbery against his abused lips, before trumpeting out as it came.

The flare of its cock unfolded inside him, forcing him to swallow down his entire load, even the thick, slimy gel afterwards. It pulled out equally abruptly, leaving Cole wobbling on his knees, mindlessly gasping and rocking up, one hand splayed across his crotch, grinding his dick against his palm as the Zebstrika circled him.

The next one approached him, or maybe it was the first one wanting another round: Cole lurched toward it, wrapping both hands around its fat shaft, and pumped madly. His fingers were dripping with come, and each stroke smeared white lines over the Zebstrika's shaft, in drooling lines over its corded veins and the medial ridge of its cock. He groaned in time with the feral trumpeting neighs of the pokemon above him, almost sobbing from want. He opened wide, tongue hanging out, and dragged his dripping face over the fat flare of the pokemon's cock, smearing the previous loads all over.

This time the Zebstrika didn't even get into his mouth before coming: a ripple ran up its huge length, and its cockhead flared out, massively, like a saucer. Cole caught the blast of its come right between the eyes. It hit him in a gushing rope, watery jizz splashing all over, and he lapped up what he could, letting the rest flood across his face. It drooled down his skin, absolutely soaking his shirt to his body, and droplets flew in all directions, dripping down from the pokemon's underbelly to soak into his jeans. The Zebstrika hosed him down with its load, and the final splattering of glue shot across his cheek, solid and gummy. It stuck to his skin in a single huge ridge, from his temple to jaw. The string hung down, jiggling and swinging in the air until it hit his neck with a wet splat, still feverishly hot.

Cole couldn't even count the number of times the Zebstrika came all over him: it was like his conscious mind was gone, replaced with nothing but the hot, shameful lust that burned through him, desperate to be a hole for the wild pokemon to use.

His lips were swollen, bloated stiff and shiny, glazed with pokemon jizz, and he let his aching jaw drop, his mouth the perfect opening for the Zebstrika to shove their cocks into. Even fully hard they were rubbery enough to bend down into his throat, and each time he tried to take more. The shafts dimpled under his lips, bloating thicker, their veins fat enough pop back and forth over his lips, each time letting a slobbery string of drool ooze out, slopping down its shaft. He gasped and gagged, swallowing until he couldn't breathe at all, until his lips popped over the fat medial ring halfway down their shafts, their cockheads lodged deep in his throat when they unfurled, shooting each inhumanly-large load straight into his stomach.

He didn't even realize when they finished with him, just that he was kneeling on the trampled grass, mouth overflowing with clotted jizz, and there wasn't a new cock lining up to slam into him. He whined, swallowing the thick mouthful of come, and popped the button of his jeans, jerking them down to take his dick in hand. His skin was already soaking wet: huge slimy cords of come coated his entire upper body, drooling down lower, and his jeans were saturated. Cole barely had to touch himself; he just wrapped his filthy hands around his shaft. Pokemon jizz squelched up between his fingers. His balls drew up tight, his dizzy arousal practically a physical force, pushing at his thighs and dragging up over his balls. He shot his load in arcs across the grass, inhuman noises ripping from his throat as he came the hardest he had in his entire life, like he was squeezing every drop of fluid from his body, body wracked by the orgasm, until he was trembling and dizzy.

He tipped over when he was finished, cock dripping over his hand. He hit the ground with a squelch: all the grass around him was trampled, churned up into mud, all smelling of rank Zebstrika musk. And just like that everything came back to him: it must've been an hour he knelt there, swallowing load after load, servicing the wild pokemon, letting them come all over, letting them fuck his throat, and then they left him, a hole all used up. Shame wracked his body, even as the slowly-cooling jizz made him shiver.

This time, it was his own shame that had him too busy to notice his surroundings. The bushes at the side of the path shook and were almost crushed underfoot as a slow-moving Torterra stepped out, idly chewing on leaves. The thick, rank smell of come caught its attention, and its head swung up, focusing on Cole's form, splattered and dripping, with thick webs of clotted come all across his face and shoulders, shirt glossy and dark, stuck to his skin.

Cole pulled himself up, half-heartedly trying to clean himself up. He wiped his fingers across his cheek, pulling them back glistening with jizz, and even with shame a constant heat inside him he slowly drew his hand to his mouth, tongue darting out to get another taste of the Zebstrikas' salty, gummy come. He licked more, tugging the rope of come into his mouth and swallowing, cock already stiffening again at the taste. Swallowing hurt, throat ravaged, but that just felt good. A shameful arousal grew inside him already, his disgust fading as he furiously imagined the Zebstrika coming back, mounting him properly, fucking him into the muddy ground until his ass was just as fucked-open as his mouth, all plugged up with come. His fingers trailed the rim of his boxer-briefs, pushing them down lower, probing with his come-slick fingers at his asshole. He was still a little sore from Leo, the skin there puffy and hot, and when he pushed inside himself he let out a low groan, imagining his fingers were the tip of some monstrous cock --

Which was when the slowly-moving Torterra finally reached him in the center of the clearing. Its heavy footfalls clomped in the muddy, grass-streaked mess. Cole jerked back, eyes wild, for a single humiliating moment thinking it was someone catching him, Derrick starting after him already, and when he saw the Torterra -- head ducked down to look at him, snapping jaw open, its underbelly all wooden brown, its shell looking like a hillock -- grassy green, with boulder-like spikes jutting out, and a gnarled old tree spreading above, roots sunk into the hard shell -- his first thought was to look down, between its hind legs, aware even as he did it how depraved the thought was.

But the Torterra was hard, cock hanging between its hind legs, absolutely monstrously gigantic. The pokemon sniffed the air again, taking in the pungent musk, and its cock dropped further, smearing through the grass-stained muck, coming up shiny with the churned-up Zebstrika's come. Cole flushed, already trembling and desperate, hole aching. The Torterra's cock was grotesque: half the length of its underbelly, easily longer than Cole's entire arm, and lumpy. It was like a tongue, slowly tapering to a point, except along the underside there were huge, chunky swells, oblong things like boulders just swelling out of the shaft, absolutely dwarfing it -- they were the size of Cole's head, easily. It was nightmarish. He went down on all fours, crawling under the pokemon's immense, curving stomach, until he was facing the massive dick. There was no way he could fit any part of it in his mouth: even the tapered tip was the size of his palm at the end, flat and almost split in two by a massive slit, gaping wide open to let out a constant drizzle of precome, splashing down to the muddy ground. The flesh, dropped out from a gaping vent, was all purple-red, veins pulsing beneath the surface.

Cole pressed his face against it, mouth hanging open, still aching from the Zebstrika. He licked over its scummy surface, tongue flicking over the shaft and across the huge, smooth swell beneath. He cleaned paths in the slimy coating, drinking down the thick, acrid precome that coated the Torterra's entire cock. It was heavy, hanging between the pokemon's stumpy hind legs, and it took all of Cole's strength to lift it fractionally up, aiming the spurting tip at his face. It erupted in glossy lines, musky precome painting across his messy face, and Cole told himself the heat in his cheeks was all from the come.

He bent down, kissing the tip wetly, tongue stroking up and down the deep furrow of its slit, as he worked over the orb-like cockhead beneath with both hands. Each pulse of precome flooded his mouth, bubbling over his lips and drooling down, and he pressed his lips harder against the cock, spreading the slit like he really was kissing it, catching the floods of acrid pokemon precome right across his mouth. He moaned, voice clotted and thick, throat aching, lapping thick strings of pre from the air as the Torterra squirted more out, its cock pulsing in his hands, twitching to slap against its heavy underbelly, leaving it tethered together with strands of precome.

Cole moaned again, eyes fluttering shut as he sucked across the grotesquely-huge pokemon cock, jacking it with both hands, almost whimpering as he caught spurts of precome across his bruised, aching lips. This wasn't even like -- he could admit to himself now, in his mindless haze of lust, that he'd thought about pokemon sex before. He'd thought about Magne fucking him long before it'd happened, and he'd had fantasies of him evolving, of Magne as a huge Charizard, impaling him on his cock, fucking him until he couldn't walk. But he'd never in his life, not until a minute ago, thought about a Torterra in any kind of sexual way. But it was a pokemon, and it was here, and so he was on his knees under it, desperate for its load, whimpering and shuddering from a pure, incoherent want.

He spluttered and spit, precome misting from his dripping lips, and pressed himself again against the huge cock, stroking it with his arms, up and down. He wanted the Torterra to come all over him, paint him in its load. But maybe more than that -- his asshole ached, hungry; he was dizzy with lust, wanting to get fucked. He wanted to know what it would feel inside him, that impossible swell of its cockhead, hanging beneath -- pounding into his asshole, stuffing the gigantic thing deep inside him. It was impossible; he knew in his rational mind it was physically impossible for such a huge think to fit inside him, but he needed something like that, hard and slick and enormous, slamming deep into him. He twisted himself around, rutting his ass against the Torterra's cock, just presenting himself to be mounted like he really was in heat.

The Torterra's stumpy feet slammed down in front of Cole, pinning him under the pokemon's huge bulk, and Cole just whimpered, rocking back, grinding the Torterra's cock across his cheeks. Its cockhead slapped against his ass as the tip slid up to the small of his back: the cock was hot, twitching with the pokemon's heartbeat, and steadily drooling thick, sloppy spurts of precome, splattering across his back and between his cheeks as the Torterra rutted against him, searching for a hole.

It rutted forward, cock sliding up his back, and then drew back to try again. The impossibly-huge tip dragged between his cheeks for a fractional second -- the fist-sized tip pressing against his asshole, digging in, but then the moment passed and it slipped lower, between his thighs. Cole almost sobbed.

It dug between his legs, breaching between them in a sudden thrust, bashing the huge swell of its cockhead against him. It barely fit, aching and solid pressed against his stomach and thighs, with the thin line of its cock squirming and twitching against his own cock. The Torterra thrust forward, shaft quickly thickening to be just as thick as its cockhead. It fucked between Cole's thighs, rubbing its immense cock over the entire span of his stomach, painting him with fresh lines of precome.

There was a rustling in the brush above him, from the thicket that grew from of the Torterra's back, and Cole looked up -- dazed and flushed, eyes unfocused -- to see two Grovyles crawl over the Torterra's sides, all lanky and lean-bodied.

Cole couldn't even bring it in him to be ashamed, with other pokemon watching him: he fucked himself against the Torterra's cock, the huge swollen orb popping back and forth between his thighs with each of the Torterra's slow, inhumanly powerful thrusts. The heavy ooze of pre rolling over his sides dripped below, turning the grassy mud into a swampy mess.

His ass smacked against the rim of the pokemeon's vent, his back pressed down from the weight of the pokemon's underbelly, smooth and soft and incredibly heavy above him. Cole slid forward, stroking forward along its cock as it pulled from between his thighs. The squirming cock slid up his back again, pinned there between him and the pokemon's heavy underbelly, drooling thick rivers of pre down Cole's bare sides.

The Grovyles watched, slowly climbing towards him, all gecko-like sharp angles. The shaggy leaves over their hands and down their back rustled as they climbed down, both of them hooked to the underside of the Torterra's body, climbing between its forelegs. Cole groaned, inhuman whimpers coming from deep in his throat, practically pleading the pokemon come closer. Cole didn't flinch when their claw-tipped hands latched over his shoulders, the both of them rearing up to fight for mounting privileges for his face.

And that was what they were doing: as they shoved each other, Cole saw flashes of their cocks, sharp red lines stabbing out from between their hind legs. The very tip was a daggerlike point, one that met with a fat, bulbous sphere for a cockhead, and then a smooth, slick shaft, gradually thickening down to the Grovyle's vent. Even though they were only a few feet tall standing up, their cocks were enormous: spanning all the way across their chests, easily a few inches bigger than Cole's own cock, even with their smaller size.

If they'd ever wanted to suck themselves off, they'd only have to lean down. But now, though, it was clear they had someone else in mind to suck them off. The Grovyles mounted his face, legs pinching unevenly across his shoulders and head as they both -- and neither of them were particularly small pokemon -- tried to settle on top of his head.

Cole tried to lean forward, helped by the slow, lurching thrusts of the Torterra -- it still hadn't found his ass, sloppily fucking across his back, hosing him down with precome; but each of his thrusts jarred Cole's entire body, sending him jerking forward. His mouth was open, grasping, tongue stuck out as he tried to get a taste of the Grovyles' cocks, a fractional inch away from his face, all sharp red and musk-smelling, bobbing in the air as the pokemon squabbled. The Torterra thrust again, the sheer weight of its cock sending Cole jerking forward through the muck, and his lips closed around one fat cockhead, cockeyed in his mouth, tongue licking over the tip of the other.

His lips barely wrapped around the both of them; he had to suck in one fat cockhead and then the other, bulging out his cheeks as he inexpertly tried to bob back and forth, trying to suck both at the same time. They were slippery, coated with precome, and the taste was strangely sweet, like plant milk. The cock on the left jerked, hosing his mouth down with a gummy burst of precome, and when Cole tried to swallow the motion set off the right one, making him choke and splutter, coughing out a sloppy burble of precome. He couldn't seal his lips around them, both of the pokemon squirming and thrusting, so he drooled out long filmy strings of spit and precome each time one of them spurted into his mouth, adding to the slime dripping down his chin.

Cole wasn't even thinking consciously: it seemed like his body was mindlessly doing whatever it wanted, desperate for more, and right now what it wanted was to stuff the two Grovyle cocks down its throat, until his lips were wrapped around their vents. The Grovyles started up an erratic rhythm, one thrusting deep as the other pulled out, taking turns plugging his throat. Their claws dug into his flesh as they pounded his throat, the points of their cocks stabbing into the back of his mouth.

Even after being wrecked by the Zebstrika, the fat bulb of their cockheads made his throat spasm when they forced it in deep, making him gag and cough between thrusts, helplessly drooling their gushing precome. Cole moaned, the sound coming out bubbling and watery, slurping as the two pokemon fucked his mouth. They were surprisingly strong, pulling Cole's head down, slamming their cocks all the way down his throat, until his lips slapped against their vents, sending strings of precome splashing out over their ruddy underbellies.

Cole didn't even have to suck, just keep his mouth open: hot and wet and clenching, an opening the pokemon could fuck. He should've been ashamed, humiliated, but every wet slap against his face sent a shock of filthy pleasure through his body. Their churning cocks sprayed slobbery bursts of precome all across his mouth, until his flesh felt saturated with it, slippery and slimy, like the milky, grassy taste would never come out.

He could've happily kept sucking on their cocks for hours, until his lips were bruised, but all around him the Torterra squawked, underbelly vibrating. Its heavy thrusts suddenly picked up, slamming its thick cock heavily against Cole's back, the swollen orb skidding through the mess of fluid coating his skin.

He was already flooded and dripping with precome -- hot and thick, squelching obscenely when the Torterra rocked forward, underbelly slapping against his body -- but the Torterra coming was like someone upended a gallon drum of jizz across his back. Messy ropes of come erupted across him, splashing sharply between his shoulder blades and gushing in all directions, most of it smearing over his skin as the Torterra kept thrusting. It dumped his huge viscous load over Cole's back and smeared it all around, huge sheets and ribbons of it dripping down his sides and hips. Cole almost cried when the Torterra dismounted, apparently uninterested in him once it'd blown its load. Thick streams of come drooled down the crack of his ass, over his aching, needy asshole, and dripping down to absolutely saturate his jeans, staining them with pokemon jizz.

All through the Torterra's orgasm the two Grovyles kept pounding his face, cocks knocking against each other, and Cole had the desperate desire for them to pull off and fuck his ass, but -- but they were wild animals, after all, and he couldn't exactly beg them to fuck him. He whimpered around their cocks, tongue mouthing along their shafts as they fucked his drooling mouth, still spurting precome in sweet, slimy streams. The Torterra dismounted, and suddenly Cole couldn't lean into it's underbelly; his arms had to hold up his whole weight. He tipped over, trembling and exhausted arms giving out, and he flopped over onto his back, splashing into the grassy muck beneath him, the forest trail an absolute wreck, muddy jizz smearing over his sides.

The Grovyles didn't even pull out of his mouth; they climbed across his shoulders, repositioning now that he was sprawled on the ground. Without the heaving breaths of the Torterra to drown it out, their own sharp, high cries were louder in Cole's ears, almost whimpering as they brutally fucked his throat. Claws wrapped around his neck, the Grovyle getting better leverage to slam vent-deep. Its bulbous cockhead slammed right into his throat, over and over again, and Cole just drooled, lips cherry-red, thick slime flooding from his mouth as the two pokemon fucked his throat, spraying precome in shuddering bursts.

Cole raised his legs, hands reaching, not to try and push the pokemon off him, or even curb their feral thrusts, but down to his hard-again cock, tugging himself off as he drooled and sucked on the two churning shafts in his mouth, slurping obscenely as he tried to suck them both in deep. One of them squawked louder, sharp and shrill, and finally managed to push the other away, cock popping from between Cole's lips with a pop. The remaining Grovyle mashed its vent against his lips, slime webbing between his face and its underbelly as its thrusts sped up, rapidfire jerks punching its cockhead back and forth through his throat, over and over again until Cole was gasping for breath between thrusts.

The other Grovyle, not deterred, crawled down Cole's body, its drooling cock leaving smears over his bare skin, and -- with a thrill that ran through Cole's entire body, moaning even with his mouth plugged up -- it settled between his spread thighs, cock slapping against Cole's for a moment before it reared back and slammed right into his ass in a single brutal thrust. Cole came all over himself, whining high in his throat, shooting all the way up to his chin. His own jizz splattered into the mess already coating him, blending in instantly, but his orgasm kept going, leaving him whining and pulling his cock afterward, even as both Grovyles started up their uneven rhythm, plunging their cocks into all his holes. Even unprepared, his ass was slick and open, getting used to being used by pokemon, and the rough drag of the Grovyle's cock quickly turned into wet slaps, the Grovyle thrusting vent-deep, lodging itself all the way into Cole's open ass. Cole kept stroking himself, cock half-hard but still drooling jizz, whimpering and completely overcome, just wanting to be used by the wild pokemon, fucked until they tired of it.

It wasn't long before both the Grovyles came: Cole's mouth, stretched and sloppy, was still a tight hole for its cock, and in what seemed like no time at all the pokemon slammed into him, head thrown back into the air, hissing and screeching as its cock jerked and pulsed, spraying its jizz straight into Cole's stomach. He swallowed, throat milking the fat shaft. The Grovyle pulled out, his throat fighting against the withdrawal and finally losing when the fat heat popped out, nestling in the back of his mouth. It was still coming; the entire length of its cock jerked, slapping across Cole's tongue, and it spat out thick globs of come, oozing over Cole's teeth and lips, drooling over his cheek in slushy streams. The pokemon kept thrusting, spitting streamers of jizz into his mouth until he was streaked anew with pokemon come, and then it just kept thrusting, dragging its cock over his tongue and between his lips as it slowly started to pull back into its vent. Cole nursed its shaft, sucking off every glob of come he could, until it was pink and shining, glossy with his spit.

He was still sucking on the Grovyle's cock when the one fucking his ass came, with the same shrieking and hissing. It was less immediate, a rush of wet heat inside him, drooling down the walls of his ass and emerging in messy globs around its pumping shaft, mingling with the filthy mess of the Torterra's load, still dripping down his thighs.

Cole almost thought he could just keep up like this, lazing slurping on the Grovyle's cock until it got hard again, except -- there was a crash in the forest, and they both jerked upright, shrieking as they pulled out -- Cole whimpered again, stretching his neck to try and keep the cock in his mouth -- and ran off, leaving him just lying there in the center of a swampy mess. The thick ooze of the Torterra's load squelched over his sides. Dimly, as the crashing got nearer, Cole thought he should get up, or try to cover himself up, but he just couldn't really bring himself to move. He kept licking his bruised lips, catching sweet globs of come dripping over his face and sucking them into his aching mouth.

The trees swayed as the crashing got closer, and at first Cole just thought it was a moving tree, stepping out in between two others. Then the shape snapped into focus, the leaves swaying down towards him, and Cole found himself face-to-face with a Tropius. It blinked, and Cole blinked, just staring at the giant dinosaur pokemon. Its mouth opened, shockingly pink compared to the wooden brown and leafy green of its head. Its tongue slapped over his body, squirming as it dragged up his thighs and stomach. It licked up some of the coating of jizz, but it left him even sloppier, thin lines of drool spilling out over his body.

The head withdrew, pulling back in a surprisingly sharp motion, leaving him staring up at pokemon two stories tall. The ground shook all around him as the Tropius stepped closer, and it was only at the last possible second that he tried sitting up, staring at the Tropius' underbelly the exact instant its dick crashed into him. Implausibly, the very first thing he noticed was that it was banana yellow, incredibly bright. It was drooling all over, thick sweet-smelling fluid, the same fragrance as ripe fruit. It was also the size of his entire body -- shaft swelling out to the span of his shoulders, pressing against him from his knees to past his head. The cockhead was just a smooth taper to a fine blunt point, though with its size the point was about the size of Cole's hand, outstretched.

The Tropius bellowed above him, feet pounding into the ground all around him ass it started thrusting. Cole was weighed down, trapped in place under the huge thing, and it slid smoothly over his soaked flesh, some minimal friction as the huge pokemon just fucked against him, thrusting back and forth over his entire body. A single gush of precome was enough to cover his face and chest in a thick pile of fluid, and the pokemon's thrusts smeared it across his entire body. Cole reached up, arms coming nowhere near to wrapping all the way around the pokemon's dick, and just rutted back against it, as good as he could manage. He was hard again, somehow, even after coming twice before, and his cock just skidded over the smooth flesh of the Tropius' dick, so slick it was barely like they were touching.

Each thrust sent his body skidding backwards an inch, dragging him around under the massive dick, and Cole just let it happen, bonelessly using his arms to make something like a cradle for the Tropius to thrust into. It didn't last long -- the Tropius bellowed and squirmed, cock spraying precome all over, and then it roared, cock erupting like a cannon as it shot arm-thick ropes of come all the way across the clearing, until Cole was lying in a river of jizz, slowly streaking down over his head, bubbling and churning. The Tropius kept grinding against him, thrusting through its orgasm, just burying Cole under the massed mess of his jizz. Heavy, streaky lines drooled down from its spurting cock, like thick rain, dribbling and dripping all across Cole's body.

When the Tropius finally stepped away -- minutes later -- Cole was practically drowning in its load, piles of come an inch thick across his entire body. It stooped down, giving him another lick -- that, again, just left him slimier and wetter -- before it crashed off again, cock dragging on the ground.

Cole felt like he could just... go to sleep, his body exhausted. He didn't feel like he was thinking at all, just moving on autopilot. But... Derrick. And... his Goomy! Cole jerked up, come oozing in sheets down his chest. Somehow it was even more embarrassing -- it was one thing to get fucked into the ground by a half-dozen pokemon, but forgetting about your own pokemon was a different level of shame. Cole staggered to his feet, looking around the devastated landscape for his Goomy. And his pokeballs, which had gone flying when he first got knocked to the ground, what seemed like days ago.

Dripping with cooling jizz, Cole dragged on his underwear, at least, even if it immediately clung to his skin. His Goomy was still knocked out, sprawled out under a tree at the edge of the clearing, and Cole thought about waking him up before -- well, he was absolutely not presentable to anyone. His pokeballs were scattered all over, and it took some time to figure out which one was the Goomy's. He called it back, the pokeball buzzing warm in his hand, almost slipping from his slimy grip.

Cole collected his clothes, trampled and grass-stained and completely, utterly saturated in come, struggling into them until he at least wasn't naked. He was -- it was going to be fine, he told himself, still dazed. He could get to the river and wash himself off, and no one would ever have to know. That was just -- that wouldn't happen again, probably. He was pretty sure about it, at least.