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Verdancy	By : Ignominious Category: Pokemon > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 7198 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, nor do I own any of its characters, nor do I make money off of this writing.

Chapter List
- 1-Verdancy
- 1
The Cacturne had seen the boy before; he wouldn't forget such a luscious creature. The very thought of the young man started his viridescent flesh to quivering. The problem with being a Cacturne, however, was that you couldn't masturbate- a Pokemon related to cactus, he was covered in needles. The trait also made almost any sexual advances especially difficult. Because of this, his libido had not been sated for an excessively long while, and had built up to colossal proportions since the last time, his first time. He was frantic for the physical attention of a living being.
His master had refused to give him water for the past week- he knew what this meant. His body could retain fluids well, but by this point ached for liquid. Last time Harley had denied him water, Harley had given him his first... 'companion'. The companion had been middle-aged and not particularly attractive to Cacturne, but the experience had nonetheless been sensational for the virgin Pokemon.
Thrill coursed through his veins as he followed Max. His master must have noticed how the litheling made him feel- Harley was perceptive when it came to the needs of his Pokemon. A Cacturne emits a particular scent when aroused; Harley had, undoubtedly, picked up on this little-known fact, and was rewarding Cacturne for his loyalty.
Max paused; he'd heard something behind him. He couldn't see very well- dawn was only just about to creep over the horizon, and the periphery of his vision was still impeded by the remaining darkness.
"He-hello?" he whimpered naively into the gloom. "Is anyone there?"
The Cacturne stepped into Max's view; the boy could only make out his silhouette. He puckered his eyes, trying to see who it was.
"Hello? Who are you? Can you help me?"
The mysterious being strode silently towards the boy. "I-I'm really lost, I don't know where I am, do you think you can direct me to-" he gasped, the Cacturne finally visible. His eyes widened.
"Cacturne?" he whispered, "Is that you?"
He didn't know why, but a feeling of dread flooded his stomach. He ignored it. Max had learned to trust Pokemon.
Cacturne peered directly into the eyes of its soon-to-be victim, and Max blushed slightly at the intimacy of the gaze. "Can you..." he tried again.
The jade Pokemon silently lifted a limb, to point beyond Max. The boy followed it with his eyes.
"That way? Thank-" Cacturne took advantage of the boy's diverted attention, forcefully smashing into him with all his weight. Max stumbled, but Cacturne charged at him, pushing him face-first against a rock. He struck the boy's head with a needle-riddled arm; Max's face hit the rock with a thud, the glass of his right lens shattering and embedding in the skin around his eye, warm sanguine fluid seeping from the wounds.
Cacturne breathed into the boy's shoulder, holding him with all his weight. His needles stuck the youngster's flesh, petite rivulets of blood oozing at where they pierced. Max screamed in pain and struggled against his captor, who held him all the tighter for it; the boy could not escape. If he tried to move backwards, the needles would dig further into his flesh; he could not move forward because of the rock. This method of securing prey was traditional for Cacturne's species.
The Pokemon was overcome by arousal, and a pungent smell, reminiscent of aloe and honey, wafted into the air. At once, he felt the water drain from his limbs, and gather in a region near the crook of his legs. The area tightened, and soon a lump formed, expanding outward; he was growing a new limb.
Something peculiar was occurring near the sniveling juvenile's rear, but he could not turn his battered head to see what it was. The Pokemon quivered against his vulnerable physique, and Max's body mimicked the action with a ripple of horror.
Cacturne tore the shirt off of the squirming figure, exposing a delicious expanse of white flesh, pockmarked with spots of blood where his prickles had entered the boy. He grinned widely and moved a spiny hand to the boy's buttocks. He pushed down the shorts, leaving long red marks on the boy where his spines dragged across the soft, pink tissue.
Max's heart thumped in his chest, his head spinning with confusion. There was a queer tickling sensation on his arms, and he glanced at himself, curious; his eyes rolled in terror at the sight that greeted him, and he felt sick to his stomach. Tiny roots were embedded in his skin, and were sucking away at his blood, turning red as they ingested the fluid.
The Pokemon's knees almost buckled in exhilaration. His new penis was engorged with water and blood, heavy, large, and rigid. As his breath caught in a sudden fit of desire, he heaved his crotch against Max's gleaming backside, shuddering with ecstasy as his flesh delved into the youth's constricted orifice. A bloodcurdling wail rent the air as Max's body was forced to make room for the assailant. Small spikes slashed at his innards as the creature penetrated him, and his colon was ripped in tiny striations along its length as the small points were drawn through it.
"Stop! You're killing me!" screamed the boy, but the Cacturne grunted and shoved himself deeper.
Bile ascended Max's throat and he vomited. Cacturne pounded at his insides with greater vigor as the young man convulsed. Burgundy trickled from Max's rectum; still dehydrated, Cacturne sent out more roots to take in the fluid. His flesh was turning a sickly pink colour from absorbing the boy's blood. Cacturne smashed the boy's head against the rock again, driving his thick erection into the battered child. Through blinders of red, Max watched two of his teeth fly from his jaw. At least they're just baby teeth, he thought sardonically.
"Good job," came a male voice from their right, followed by a cackle. "I want you to fuck him up well, my dear, delightful Cacturne.
In the modest glow of the blushing sunrise, Max could make out his sister's clothes. A man stepped into their midst.
"Hello, Max," he sneered. "What a... thorny situation you've gotten yourself into, hmm?" Harley cackled. He turned to Cacturne. "It's okay, my pet, you don't have to stop. I'm just here to watch, for now."
The cactus Pokemon nodded, groaning. Max felt the creature's appendage inflating inside him, becoming firmer, the spines standing further on end with each thrust. Cacturne closed his eyes; he was getting closer, completely filling Max's mutilated chasm with his pointed, throbbing flesh. His breath heaved, and with each thrust he moaned, grasping and pushing Max's shoulders with his appendages for better leverage. Ecstasy ignited at the base of his penis; it spread through the shaft and into his body. He pressed the boy faster, frenzied. Oh God, he thought as he panted, Oh God I'm going to explode into this decadent youthful creature, I'm going to, I'm going to explode so intensely...
He screeched and drove himself one last time into the lissome body, and for a second, the cacophony ceased as he gasped, at the acme of sensation.
Cacturne's body was taken by a violent spasm, and he tore himself away from the boy, rupturing at the base of his groin, the severed remains of which were now permanently located inside Max's body. Blood and internal fluids dripped from the area where Cacturne's erection had been. Greedily, his root-like feelers followed the liquid down his legs and into the ground, not wanting to waste a drop of the solution. The Pokemon moaned in bliss, shaking in the afterglow of the rapture he'd experienced.
Max hung his head and wept in agony; it was over.
"Oh, no, it's not time to relax yet, child," hissed the man dressed as his sister. Max's vision was blurred and hazy because he'd lost copious amounts of blood, but even he could see the evident bulge in Harley's skin-tight blue shorts. A hand reached out for the youth's dark teal hair, and he was dragged from his position against the rock by his locks. "You see, my vengeance will not be complete until I, personally, have had a hand in it. Or," he chuckled, pushing the boy to the ground, "more than a hand."
"Alas," grinned Harley as he straddled the boy, "Your arrogant sister, May, has committed some transgressions that are, unfortunately, detrimental to my oh-so-delicate ego. To this day, she has eluded chastisement." Harley began to peel off his shorts.
"And so, the little brother pays in full for his sister's deeds," he whispered.
The man sat atop Max as a conqueror, looking at him intently, his face twisted into an expression of malice and triumph. His testes lay directly on the boy's flat stomach, his phallus protruding superiorly. His thighs were paste-white. Max wheezed, finding it a struggle to breathe with Harley's full weight upon him. Blood from the areas out of which his teeth had been knocked trickled down his throat, making it even more of an effort to draw breath.
"Stop... I can't... breathe..." he gagged.
"Oh, don't worry, boy. I intend to deliver you nice- and- alive to your nasty sister." He sneered. "More or less, that is."
The long-haired, emerald-eyed man removed the pack that he'd slung over his shoulder. Fumbling around in the leather bag, he eventually produced a number of instruments that Max could not lift his head to see.
"How about we... twist the knife a little deeper?" giggled the madman. "Ouch," he exclaimed, testing it on his finger. It was a scalpel like the ones surgeons used, with a short, razor-sharp blade. "Looks like it's ready for you, Max. Unfortunately, I ran out of anesthetic on my last patient- you'll have to do this one awake. Tough cookies. Speaking of which," he began to carve at a spot of flesh on Max's chest, "I have something for you when we're through."
The boy could barely muster the strength to cry out in pain at the gruesome procedure that was being performed on him before his very eyes, when suddenly his body jerked, a very strange thing happening at that moment in his rectum.
It felt as if something ruptured; but it was not him, not one of his organs; it didn't hurt, and in fact it caused a cooling, soothing sensation inside of him. In truth, the fleshy appendage Cacturne had deposited inside the young man had burst open, loosing its aloe-like interiors to his entrails. Hence, the Pokemon germ the receptacle had contained were also released into the boy.
A guttural sigh escaped his lips as the embryonic creatures burrowed into his skin, tossing their tails about and shifting in ways that started a funny tickling inside his aching bowels. He shut his eyes and laid his head back. Max was confused. Despite the pain in the rest of his body, he'd started to feel just a tiny bit good.
Meanwhile, Harley had continued his operation. He procured a pair of bone shears and, not hesitating a moment, cut away the ends of the ribs that otherwise impeded his procedure. The gash he'd made in the boy was now three inches long and one deep. He held the flesh away from it with surgical clips. The man inserted a couple fingers into the bleeding orifice, feeling lightly with his fingertips the pulsing heart of the seven-year-old. Satisfaction rippled throughout him.
Max's heart was still pumping heatedly, and he wriggled his torso in shock when he felt something caress its outer walls.
"Ohh, boy," mused Harley, "Your life is in my hands now."
Harley sat more forward, the underside of his phallus sliding over Max's flesh, his knees to their respective sides. His head was suspended over the juvenile, dark hair forming a curtain as he peered into the boy's face, his emerald gaze intense. Tenderly, with the utmost precaution, the man pressed the tip of his erection into the hole he'd created in his victim's chest. His breathing was shallow and fast; the time had come to be serious. He would have no more joking around.
Max panted. The sensation of the live seedlings burrowing within his bowels was exciting him, a few of them having chosen to burrow in a place near his prostate, causing his flesh to shuffle against the nerve-packed organ. He noticed that, for some reason, Harley's swollen groin caused a similar feeling in his chest as it rubbed slickly against his cardiac tissue.
Harley folded his thumbs over the luminous, white neck of the boy, and purred pleasantly down at the writhing child, whose flesh was starkly pale against the background of his own blood in which he lay. The palpitations of the child's heart, as little motion as they created, were steadily bringing the sensate man closer to orgasm. He mentally admired the softness of the heart, as well as the warmth of the circulatory fluid that pulsed from the wound he had cut. Breaking from this train of thought, he realized that Max was not, as he'd expected, struggling to remove Harley's hands from his neck; in fact he'd clutched Harley's hands and was now holding them tightly, as if Harley was not a vicious, conniving predator, but someone Max knew fondly, and needed physical reassurance from. Max was no longer fighting him, but acting close to him. The blood drained from Harley's face.
"You... you like this? You're... not supposed to like it..." His expression became one of irritation. "Here then! Tell me you like this!" He smiled ferociously, and pulled two of Cacturne's needles from Max's hide. Without a hint of warning, the man stabbed the points into and through Max's nipples. Max was past the point of caring about their sting, however; the pain only stimulated him further, arousal flaring in his chest. His voice pulsed loudly from his throat as his physique indulged in the carnal pleasure the act brought him.
Though the reaction was not what Harley had anticipated, pleasure cascaded through his form at the sound. Fuck, this boy is enjoying it, and I... I like knowing I please him...

And suddenly, his face reddened, his eyes widened, and he threw his head and shoulders back in an echoing howl of ecstasy, withdrawing his hips, sending his ivory potency into the air as his figure was racked by the paroxysms of a most ultimate, raw finale. Similar sensations had accumulated in Max to a stage where he felt he might burst, and he came too, but not nearly as flamboyantly, with just a twist of his head, a tensing of his muscles, and a childlike wail. His cheek fell into the dirt and he lay there while Harley shuddered atop him. Harley's semen had been flung all over the boy's upper body and mingled and dripped with Max's blood.
Later, when Harley had recovered from his gratification and felt relatively up to it, he took a needle and thread from his bag to sew up the hole he'd created in the boy's chest. He also removed another item.
"What is that for?" panted Max, eying the bracelet which dangled Harley's name in silver charms. Harley did not respond immediately but placed the small, metallic object against Max's fluttering heart.
"It's something for you, of course," he replied, blushing less discreetly than he wished.
Max was eventually returned to his sister and company with disturbing accounts, serious injuries, and a package of home-made cookies. Nobody would eat them except Max, who claimed they were absolutely delicious. Max's buttocks, formerly teeming with seed, contained only a handful of Cacturne's spermatozoa by this point; in a number of months the seedlings had grown sufficiently enough to release themselves from Max's interiors, and he became the father of nine little Cacnea. For a while, everyone cooed over how small and soft the creatures were, as their spikes were still the pliable, silky texture significant of their infancy. Max quickly became enamored of his innocent and adorable offspring, despite the harrowing situation that had led to their conception. He was a good father.
In time, he secretly began to reflect on the incident that had brought them to him with a restrained sort of longing. When the hormones of puberty hit he started to stick things into himself privately; often he chose objects with rounded ridges or spines, his mind hazily recalling how it had felt to have something spiky pushed into him. Whenever his heart thrashed fervently, especially on these occasions, he was able to feel the charms Harley had sewn into his chest rub against the throbbing organ.
It was many years before Max saw Harley again, and had come to realize the significance of the bracelet that had burned in his chest since he was seven. He had been seeking the man- asking around about him, following the leads he was given by townsfolk and trainers alike. It seemed that, since their last shameful meeting, Harley had been doing his best to avoid the public eye. It was no wonder.
Finally, Max happened across the man while walking to his hotel after dark. He ran to the familiar figure and dragged him from the sidewalk. Harley wheeled to fight off his aggressor; but he instantly recognized the young man, and ceased struggling when his eyes met with those of Max. The boy's gaze was intense and keen- Harley felt as if he were being scrutinized, and as if the exquisite phantasm could read every one of his thoughts, every inclination he'd ever dared to ponder. He stared at the young man, afraid to speak, hardly believing in the reality of the situation. Max drew himself against his former captor. Their lips met without a word, and Harley sank to the ground before Max.
"I've thought of you every day, from that day on..."
"I know," murmured Max, "I know you did."
They clasped one another for a while, before Max pulled away from Harley's shoulder and grinned roguishly at him. He grabbed Harley's shirt roughly and pulled the man's face within inches of his own.
"It's my turn, now."
- 1
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Verdancy