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You wouldn't fuck a pokémon. Well... you'd be lying to yourself if you claimed the idea had never crossed your mind, especially when she's sprawled out on her side or back, the bright pink under her belly showing, shameless and needful... When she smells like that - like she smells now - that decadent melange that makes your face flush with heat and your gonads flutter.
>The thought had definitely crossed your mind often enough to have carved out a well-trodden path. Yes, there would be no denying it, at least in the privacy of your head. But that didn't mean you'd do it. You're decent, a model citizen. It would be wrong! Shameful to take advantage of the pokémon over which you reign, wise and authoritarian. She looks up to you like a student looks up to their teacher. She looks up to you like a prostitute on her knees in front of you, licking her lips.
>You're her trainer, her master, and you're not weak-willed enough to succumb to her enticing scent. When she beckons to you, you turn away. That's how it's always been, no matter how deeply the reckless thoughts have wheedled their way into your mind; no matter how much your body has wanted it. How much you've wanted it. So badly... but you'd never before compromised your integrity as a reputable, respected trainer. Now wasn't the time to start, to throw it all away.
