Let's not talk about it

Finally… Finally… Fuchsia City. You can tell by the, well, the big sign that says Fuchsia City. There are probably some other noteworthy qualities that would make it obvious where you are, but you’re far too exhausted to notice any of them. With the moon already sitting comfortably in the sky, you collapse at the city entrance.

The path to Fuchsia City was much longer than you expected. In fact, it was much too long to travel in one day. You began to panic as the sun set and Fuchsia City was nowhere in sight, but fortunately you found a group of boys camping. Unfortunately, a helpless girl asking to stay the night with a bunch of boys out in the wilderness sends a very strong signal. You may have gotten some food and warmth, but you didn’t get any sleep, and began your travels again the next day, bleary-eyed and coated in evidence of your nighttime activites. You ran into some trainers to challenge along the way, but your fatigue greatly affected your performance. You lost most of your battles, and after each one you got dragged into the bushes, emerging even more tired and dirty than before.

You pick yourself up and look yourself over. You’ve never been more of a mess in your life. Your flannel shirt has miraculously managed to hold onto its last button, but there are patches of dirt and semen all over it. Your shorts are in no better a state. They’re practically soaking wet with the cum of strangers, as well as your own fluids. Various debris like leaves and twigs are stuck on the inside, some peeking out of the waistband. The daisy dukes are too wet to take off comfortably, so you’re just dealing with it. Your cleavage is absolutely awash in cum, and even the bottoms of your asscheeks, sticking out of your skimpy shorts, are dripping white. You couldn’t look like more of a slut if you tried. You were so confident when you left Vermilion, too. So much for taming a raging bull…