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The Caterpie's Dirge	By : SpiralBreeze Category: Pokemon > General Views: 4093 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon, nor do I own the characters. I do not own The Song of Lunch, nor do I own the characters. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Caterpie's Dirge
- 1
Inspired by "The Song of Lunch" by Christopher Reid. I do not own the poem, nor do I make any money from this story.

This is in response to a challenge on the forums. The issuer wanted a fic where Misty get's raped by Ash. You have been warned. Please read and review. Thank you!

The Caterpie’s Dirge

By Spiral Breeze

He embraced the small body of his new worm friend.

Green, friendly, suction pads sticking to his arms.

The yellow mouse happy to finally have a companion.

She however, disgusted with it’s stench, sat apart,

Unwilling to make contact.

It was bright, airy, a pleasant morning

Between the ancient trees of Viridian Forest.

Oh, if only they could speak!

What tales would these venerable woods weave?

What, indeed had they in their lengthy existence seen?

He wished for her to hug this new partner on his team.

She would have nothing of it.

On second thought, it was... cute.

Slimy, smelly, sticky, get away!

She hated the thought of it’s small bug body near her very being.

He grew irritable then.

High on self-regard for capturing his first pocket monster.

As all young boys of ten are, irrational, thickheaded... stupid.

His gloved hand found her face,

The resounding slap carrying towards the upper branches.

She cried out, surprised at the sudden blow.

Her hand tracing the raised pattern of his fingers.

The question of why, clearly etched on her face.

What had she done?

And then, he hit her again, the other cheek, a matching set.

She stood then, glaring at his audacity.

He, straightened and brought his hand across her face for the third time.

She fell, stunned, whimpering, blue eyes searching his.

Her tears mixed with the dirt and rotting leaves of the forest floor.

Mucus pooling on her upper lip.

As she struggled to get up, her backside raised in the air.

He wished to kick it.

How would it feel to bring the toe of his foot into that supple flesh?

He kicked.

She fell forward, crunch! Blood, her screams, as he saw it was her nose.

She wiped at the crimson liquid with her shirt, yellow now stained red.

One look at him and she shouted, help!

Futile. Who would hear her but the trees?

Or the very bugs she despised.

He stood, breath hissing, watching her, hating her.

He pushed her down, hands and knees pinning her underneath.

She was afraid. Rightfully so.

Blue eyes stared into brown as his hand ripped open her shirt.

Too frightened to utter a word, she waited.

He was angry, he would calm down... eventually.

The beginning buds of breasts lay under his hands.

Her nipples, pale pink, small rose buds, begging to be kissed.

His hands squeezed forcibly into the flab.

These were not breasts.

A mockery of a woman’s body.

He brought his head down to one tiny pink nipple. The one on the right.

Her right, for one wild moment she thought-

Searing pain, as he bit, his teeth tearing into the meat.

Her legs kicked helplessly underneath.

He felt it give way, blood and tissue, chew and swallow. Mmm.

Her mouth open in the perfect shape for-

Yes, hadn’t he seen it, in a dirty magazine once?

What a lovely place to put one’s private bits.

He with deft gloved fingers, undid his fly.

His small erection, poked through, and he was proud, as all males are. Dicks.

She tasted salt, her blood, as he eased his phallus into her mouth.

He moaned above her, forcing his uncut cock down her throat.

She gagged, no- she was choking, did he care?

His balls hit her chin, he was up to the hilt.

Ah, such a man, to compare it to a sword!

His hips pivoted, downward, grating.

He saw the bile rise, and spill over.

Breakfast.

The gagging sound grew louder.

He, ignored it.

She tried to take in air through her nose, her eyes closed.

Yes, pretend like you’re dead.

He thrust himself between her lips and teeth with haste.

She felt her hair being ripped, wrenched from her scalp.

He drove her skull into the ground. Almost.

Blood, vomit, semen, a cocktail of nefarious flavors.

He grunted as he forced her head back the final time.

He pulled his length out, taking care to clean it.

Her shirt, a moist towelette.

She began to sob. Tears for the wicked.

He lowered his body further down hers.

Her hands became free!

He grabbed her left hand, snap, snap, five times.

Screams of agony echo through the leaves.

He grabbed her right hand, snap, snap, snap, five times. Silence.

He sat on her thighs, lacking grace, he removed her shorts.

He tore the simple cotton panties from her hips.

Wet. She had urinated. No matter.

Her lips were smooth, a dusting of ginger fuzz.

He inhaled deeply of her scent, and brought his tongue to taste.

Piss, sweat, and blood, as his teeth shredded her labia.

She jerked her hips, but remained quite still.

He wanted the prize, always, the go-getter.

Her clitoris quickly joined it’s ladies-in-waiting down his throat.

Delicate, decadent, delicious.

Was she pure?

He wondered. Had she even bled as a fertile woman does?

Should he ram his cock past her maiden hood?

Yes, of course he would.

The honor would be his.

Fuck!

She was tight, dry, a gurgle escaped her mouth.

She could no longer scream.

Fuck!

Ease it in... yes, that’s the way.

He prevailed past the resistance.

Triumph!

So sweet. He groaned as he fucked her virgin cunt.

He pushed her knees up.

Forcing them into an unnatural position.

Crack. Oops.

Crack... a magnificent angle.

Yes, a little more...

He felt a warm liquid leak onto his exposed skin.

Piss.

He pulled out, blood, smeared over his cock.

He stepped onto one of her broken hands as he walked to her head.

Eyes glazed. Could she see?

Was she-

No, not yet.

He stroked his length above her face.

His seed splattered in her red hair.

She was a mess.

His head inclined to one side.

He brought his foot down on that messy face.

A sickening thwack and crunch.

He watched the light leave her eyes.

The shallow breath no more.

He sighed.

Spent.

His new friend, green and slimy, inched his way forward.

The attack he used: String Shot.

Now she lay, little more then a cocoon.

A treat for the bugs of Viridian Forest.

Dig in friends.

The End.
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The Caterpie's Dirge