He's Overconfident, Play Up Your Injuries!

The edges of your vision still vibrate with every movement you register. A cool sweat can be felt at the back of your neck and while the nausea has begun to subside, your limbs still refuse your call. It’s all you can do to maintain the tenuous balance keeping one knee beneath you as the cock-sure grin wearing feral delights in your disorientation. Try as you may, whenever you muster the clarity of thought to beg your arms to action, they only ever manage to flop limply in a direction you didn’t intend. There was no way you could mount an attack, much less another escape attempt in such a state and the pear sharped tapir knew it. This is probably why he has yet to capitalize on your weakness, so enjoyable is your suffering to him.

The smug man even lets a drool laden chuckle fall from his lips as yet another attempt at standing ends with you nearly toppling prone. There is a silver lining to his mockery, though, and it comes in the form of a fledgling idea. The anger that had been simmering though your humiliation gives way to another emotion, one that you’d grown intimately familiar with as of late. **** hope.

Another pitiful jerk of your leading leg to rise from the dirt results in another wobbling mess, and another wave of amused guffawing. Exactly as you had predicted. Even in your disheveled state, it was clear that you needed to buy time for the effect of this attack to wear off. What better way to stall than to continue the ‘mindless prey’ act? It wasn’t the best plan, but in place of some divine intervention, it was all you had to go off of.

You let your eyes droop, lids sagging just over the irises, and ease the tension from your muscles to adopt a hunched, low stooping pose. One hand drops to the forest floor to grasp at the dirt whilst the other reaches out before you, quivering in the air to show off the still very real effects of the mind numbing beam. The Drowzee seems to be buying the façade, still lording over the pathetic thing before it and making no moves toward you. Though the delay of becoming dinner was a plus, you needed the man to do more than laugh. Weakened as you were, you had no hope of closing the gap for an underhanded strike. As off-putting as the thought was, the feral was going to need some incentive to approach.

You didn’t have to fake your apprehension as your eyes slowly settled upon his nether region. Your performance had provoked something of a response in the man if the growing erection was anything to go on. Despite the ‘development’, the thing that bobbed beneath the Drowzee’s belly wasn’t much to speak of; a few inches at best if you had to guess. The member was cupped by an otherwise impressive set of orbs that jostled with each pulse of movement. Generous as they were, the contrast to their upstairs neighbor only served to emphasize the below average endowment. Regardless, you push past the urge to smirk at the sad sight and put your deception into action.

With eyes still locked upon the man’s crotch, your leading hand drops to the forest floor ahead of you, before dragging your trembling form a few inches closer to your opponent. To belay suspicion of your intent, you let your mouth hand open slightly and allow a disoriented groan to tumble forth. Finally, your opposite hand shakily rises toward the now fully ‘erect’ penis now only a couple feet away. At first, the infected pokemon remains stoic in the face of your lurid display, no longer finding humor in these new circumstances. The moments crawl by and you keep your desire to look up in check, the dwindling hope that your ploy will work only just beating out your need to know the man’s reaction..

Your heart almost skips a beat when that plump chicken thigh of a right leg takes a tentative step toward you. Now you do look upon the face of your oppressor, the smug confidence long gone and replaced by a mask of shameless perversion. No longer do those upturned crescent eyes glare down with contemptuous mirth, rather they now feast upon your shivering frame with a simmering vulgarity. He, too, allows his maw to hang wide though where yours had only been an act to gain a foothold, his now puffs with clear, saliva dripping desire. You doubt that the man had much luck in the realm of passion even before his unfortunate transformation, but what stands before you now is a being of singular purpose, if not sound mind.

Though part of you is excited that the creature has so readily taken the bait, the underlying sense of sinister intentions is almost enough to pull a 180 on this **** plan. You **** the notion of abandoning the ruse out of your mind quickly, knowing full well that your legs still need to to recover their strength. Instead you cast modesty aside and double down, offering more moans and another frail reach toward those 4 inches of unearned pride.

The speed at which he accepts the false proposition nearly breaks your mask, as three quick steps bring him before you. It's hard to resist the urge to recall your outstretched hand when the subtle heat of his nether region begins to snake its way up your fingers. Keeping your disgust at bay, you instead look up into the violet eyes of your would be abuser. He is eager, clearly ready for what those moans had promised.

This wasn't good..

You had expected the cretin to be a bit more suspicious of the offering, a bit slower to accept your addled mind falling into subservience. You needed time to let the feeling seep back into your legs before making good your retaliation. Yet here he stood, recklessly or stupidly willing to let his prey care for those **** needs. The warmth of his undercarriage has now fully engulfed your hand, basting it in a thick, heavy air. Despite your best effort, your nose crinkles when the man's scent catches up. Though the heady aroma isn't nearly as unpleasant as you had first worried, the knowledge of what and who was emitting it had the regrets swirling within.

An annoyed grunt from above informs you that your hesitation hasn't gone unnoticed. A quick glance upward confirms that the feral is quickly losing patience and it’s likely that your ‘generous’ offer is about to be refused for a much more filling one. With no help from your lower extremities forthcoming, you tighten your jaw and reach out toward the tender flesh. The pair of you shudder, though for wildly different reasons, when you cup the dangling sack in your extended hand. Its doughy texture settles weightily in your palm, its size easily filling your hand to slip slightly over the side. The Drowzee remains stoic, enjoying your obedience, but obviously excited for what you have planned next. Not wanting to disappoint and risk going back on the menu, you begin to gingerly knead the spongy orbs, rolling them in your palm and massaging the left with your thumb.

The feral’s reaction is immediate, with a low moan accompanying the few joyful bucks his comparatively smaller penis enjoys. You find yourself hoping that the man isn’t a quick shot on top of everything else he has going for him, as you need to draw this out as long as possible. Slow and steady isn’t what the infected tapir is after, apparently, as after only a couple moments of playing with his balls the bloated beast takes one last stride toward you, placing that pre-prepared package directly before your wincing snout.

Shit.. shit…! He’s too eager.. Too fast…

It’s hard to miss the rotund pokemon’s meaning with his quivering member bobbing to-and-fro barely an inch from your trembling lips. Your thoughts immediately return to the horrible truths Chieftain Lyra had shared, that the act of mating with the infected was what caused the virus to spread. Nothing was less desirable than the idea of willfully taking that pre-soaked member inside your mouth, potentially risking becoming one of the very monsters that stalked the land. A ray of hope comes in the form of the tickle of grass upon your left paw. The sensation is proof enough that your strength is returning, though this Drowzee isn’t making it easy to drag things out.

A heavy hand plops itself atop your head and the following pull towards an infectious end forces you to improvise. Without thinking, you drive forward, passing by the dripping tip to the bulging balls behind it. You had to avoid this mon’s ‘essence’ at all costs, though the price you were about to pay was humiliating to say the least. Not giving your rational side a chance to interrupt, your tongue leaves its holster with a whimper, to slap wetly against the sensitive flesh. Again the big guy winces at your sudden submission, making you fear that you might have pressed things too far. The sudden lack of a grip on your head says otherwise, and the departing hand is exchanged for another long exhale from above. You can feel your toes curl as the muscles in your calf continue to wake up, a bit of good news to offset the ‘savory’ taste that now dances across your tongue.

There is a small bit of relief when you realize the flavor originates more from the location of your licking rather than any lack of hygiene on the ferals part. Despite the powerful, masculine scent assaulting your nose you continue your work, trying to keep as far away from that pitiable penis as possible. Moans are soon heard from your would-be master, a reward for all your efforts, it would seem. Occasionally, you take a gentle bop to the cheek as that member dances about, the subsequent spurt of pre drizzling about your shoulder. Your disgust is tempered by the flexing of thigh muscles eager to answer your command when at last the trap was sprung.

Enjoy it while you can, ‘Tiny’...

The sweet notions of imminent retaliation flitter about your head, almost making you forget how you’ve spent the last couple minutes basting a feral’s orbs in your saliva. It matters not, you know, as this humiliation will be forgotten as soon as you’re free of this mindless animal once and for all. With one last test, a subtle tensing of both legs to reaffirm their recovery, you slowly draw the right under and up to place your hind on solid ground. Sensing the time has come, you withdraw your thoroughly used tongue from its task and direct your gaze skyward to ensure the big dope is still lost in the throes of worship.

You were expecting some mixture of smug superiority colored with a bit of dazed lust. What you received instead was the malicious grin of a calculating predator, violet eyes curved into tight, upturned crescents and staring directly into your own worried visage. You don’t have much time to consider that sinister look before that same meaty hand, moving faster than you’d expect from the large man, returns to cup the side of your face and clamps tight. Now **** to lock eyes, fear grips your heart as his free hand comes up to place a thick finger against his temple. A startled ‘gluuuh..!’ is all you manage to get out past those weighty nuts before the world is burnt away, drowned in an all consuming shroud of purple. Warbling waves of sickening heat bounce all around your skull, overwhelming your already fried senses. Frozen to the spot, wide-eyed and maw agape for a scream that would not come, you can do nothing as the synapses of your mind are seared and overruled.

When at last the cataclysmic devastation of your psyche comes to a close, the outlying world creeps in along the edges of your watery vision. Though the trees and cool night sky slowly return to you they are fuzzy, lacking definition or any solid detail. Instinctively you inhale deep, hoping to get some fresh air to your addled brain. The extra oxygen does its job and the forest eases its eternal spin, finally allowing you to focus…

… Upon the Adonis before you.

That’s right… you weren’t alone. There stood the Drowzee, tall and imposing, yes but also… he’s.. so…

“Beautiful”

Your whispered praise doesn’t go un-noticed by the man that now towers over you, his already handsome face made all the more so as a warm smile curves his silky, lemon-hued lips. The questions you have are answered in short order as the evening’s past affairs pour back into the present.

You’d been… tired for some reason. You’d been running from something.. someONE that had wanted to harm you…

The dull ache in your side drew a curious hand to it, finding the mending wound still wrapped in a cloth bandage. It was all coming back now… yes. You’d been accosted by a feral; a Liepard that had wanted to make you his meal. You’d been too weak to fight the beast and so you had to flee, though only after the cat had raked your torso deep. The pain had hampered your attempts to evade him and in that moment, you were certain that you’d met your end. That’s when this Drowzee, this lovely man had heard your pitiful cries and thought to take mercy upon a poor little Sneasel.

It had been glorious to behold.. his unflinching determination at driving off the infected Pokemon, his expert care as he had dressed your wounds, and how he’d so delicately scooped you up and spirited you away to this secluded copse of trees to rest. Even now his silent vigil goes on, so concerned for your safety that he continues to watch over your convalescence. It is now that you’ve caught a breath that you’ve gotten a proper look at your savior. His grinning visage beams down upon your diminutive form, and for a moment you can almost feel its radiance warm your fur. Letting your eyes wander, they next settle on his impressive build. Sure there is some ‘padding’ to his figure, as with all of his kind, but those gentle curves only accentuate the subtle musculature that no doubt hides beneath. Unable to suppress your baser urges, your gaze sinks further toward…

“O-oh…!”

The word tumbles from your mouth, which now hangs agape in awe of the spectacular pillar of flesh that erupts from your hero’s groin. While you were expecting a tool worthy of such an inspiring creature, you couldn’t have been prepared for the cock that now bobs before your huffing face. Nearly the length of your forearm and easily as thick, the massive member quells any desire to continue roaming his perfect form further. Your eyes have already found all they ever needed.

A soft growl from above, almost affectionate in its utterance, reminds you that your gawking has been shamelessly overt. A sheepish look skyward, back into the warm regard of your rescuer, calms your nerves at having been caught. Instead of taking offense, he rather seems to enjoy the attention you’ve paid to his crotch. His interest in your ‘less than subtle’ curiosity then made crystal clear when one of his powerful hands rises up between you, a single finger extended downward toward his flawless rod.

This was it. Yes..! He was letting you thank him for his stalwart heroism, allowing a lowly tree cat the chance to bring him some much deserved relief. The moment his approval was registered, you were on that cock like it was the last drop of water in all the world. A hand was quickly wrapped around his base, though only just barely as your fingers struggled to contain its girth. Next up was the tongue, so eager to sample his unique taste that despite the size of it, your licks soon had the underside of his penis slickened with warm saliva. His flavour was divine…

A heavy hand plops atop your head, shaking you from your blissful fumblings, and slowly guides you back and away from your meal. At first you fear that you have misread his intentions, or perhaps over indulged in your devotion… The worries are assuaged as you notice his other hand taking hold of his tip and directing it toward your gasping maw. His message was clear, in that while he had enjoyed letting you bask in your worship, his pleasure came first… ALWAYS first.

Taking his meaning to heart, your eyes return to the task set before you and without any prompting from the hand that grips your crown, you take the pulsing member into your ravenous mouth. If you thought the Drowzee tasted good before, the explosion of flavor that awaited your writhing tongue has the saliva dripping from your hungry muzzle in short order. All the better, you decide, as the added lubrication only hastens the member's descent past your teeth and toward your waiting gullet. When at long last the tip tickles the back of your throat, no care is paid to thoughts of gagging or lack of air. You wanted this… NEEDED this..!

Your hands grip the larger man's love handles, a bit more forcefully than you’d intended, and drive forth to spear yourself on his massive length. The expected difficulty of handling such a monster is strangely absent, with the powerful rod slipping past your throat with ease. That was a little confusing, considering the man’s size, but the sensation of warm flesh pulsing its way down melts any follow up questions. Soon enough the Drowzee hilts your maw, leaving your nose buried in his crotch fuzz. You are allowed a moment's rest as your hero… your lover, loses himself in the feeling of your rippling esophagus lathering his length. Dreary eyed and running on borrowed air, you struggle to raise your eyes to take in the sight of this perfect being in all of his groaning, eye rolling ecstasy. He looks so happy, so completely smitten with your efforts. Perhaps taking him hadn’t been a challenge because this was how it was meant to be…? How YOU were meant to be…

The heartening sentiment warms you almost as much as being in your lover’s… no.. your MASTER’s glorious presence. A bit of wet dampens the edges of your hazy eyes, though whether it’s due to the growing joy you feel or because your last gulp of air was over 30 seconds ago, you couldn’t know. What you are sure of, however, is that when he finally allows you to continue your worship, you would do so earnestly. He would be shown the depth of your gratitude for saving such an undeserving wretch as you…

“Grraaahhh…”

Pleasure is thick in the guttural utterance as it escapes the pale eyed hypnotist. The erotic groan punctuates a powerful climax and as the waves of ball boiled release begin to ebb, strings of runoff spurt from the gasping Sneasels lips. What had begun as another evening's hunt for foolish morsels had ended in a rather unexpected manner for the feral Drowzee. Catching the dozing and apparently wounded feline had held the promise of a quick and filling meal. Annoyingly, the cat had put up some token resistance before eventually falling to his superior might. While the result of their short lived skirmish had never been in question for the powerful caster, the manner in the cat's defeat had taken the infected Pokemon by surprise.

After a simple bolt of disorienting energy, the Sneasel had not only given up any semblance of opposition but had seemingly developed a desire to serve his betters. Perhaps he’d hit the feline a bit too hard, the Drowzee pondered, possibly breaking whatever feeble mind the creature had once possessed. Whatever the reason, any higher questioning of the cause was thrown to the wayside when those first delectable licks graced his undercarriage. Even before his fall to the spreading infection, the Drowzee had found hardship in the realm of romance. Most had considered his ‘meagre offering’ to be a waste of time, always leaving his bed feeling empty.

Not this one, though. This cat, foolish and pathetic as he was, had obviously seen something he liked and without much prodding at all, the cute little snack had begun to worship his cock the way it had always deserved. It was then that the Drowzee's priorities had shifted, foregoing a simple meal for something more. With one last burst of hypnotic energy, he had burned away any lingering inhibition the Sneasel may have had left, allowing him to become the best possible plaything a feral could ask for.

Without any more useless concepts like identity or self-determination to cloud the cat efforts, he had thrown everything into pleasing his new master. Such raw passion, such boundless devotion to his charge… The Drowzee, strengthened as he was from the corruptive influence of the creeping virus, was no match for the unleashed fervor that his new servant brought to this heated fellatio. His first orgasm was literally pulled from his balls. Engorged and pent up from neglect as they were, they nearly flooded the eager little cocksucker, resulting in a healthy bulge in the cat’s midsection and a new pair of beautiful violet eyes to match.

That single entanglement was far from enough for either of the lust bound ferals, though. After barely a minute to catch a breath, both were back at it again, this time with the Sneasel pushed onto his back, legs pinned overhead and cheeks spread wide, offering his tight little hole for his master’s pleasure. With a teal furred ankle in each of the Drowzee’s hands, he wouldn’t hold back as he took the cat for a second time. The cream smeared muzzle of his submissive companion hung wide, tongue lolling out, and an expression of exhausted bliss plastered across his face. Such an adorable little fuck puppet he would be…