Jun 2nd, 2004, 06:14 PM
Pokémon Sex Roleplay.
Yes . . . everything incredibly hilarious in this piece is me: everything about love and cookies is the other guy.
Brock had been waiting to reveal his sexual desires to Ash for a long time: how Ash had not noticed that Brock was a little feminine in his ways was beyond Brock, as the first time Ash had seen him, he'd been in a dress. Oh, that dress . . . just thinking about it made him hot. He began touching himself. NO! Not yet. He walked into the showers, finding Ash getting undressed.
"Hey, Ash," said Brock. "Want to see my Geodude?"
"Is it twinkling blue with large bulbous eyes that make grown men weep?" asked Ash, innocently.
"Err . . ." Brock tried to figure out an innuendo behind the words, and failed. "Well, as you seem to have missed my utterly obvious sexual co—GEODUDES AREN'T BLUE."
"S - Sorry Brock, I was just kidding. Concentrating on gettin' naked."
"Naked, eh?" said Brock, looking around. "You seem to be the only one. What exactly are you doing here?"
"Yeah, Misty spilt orange juice down me in the canteen... got all sticky. What're you doin' down here?"
"Hoping to also get a little sticky," said Brock, nudging ash with his elbow. "—Eh? —Eh?"
Brock punctuated each ‘Eh?’ with a sly wink.
Ash was slightly put aback by Brock's sudden close contact, but did not let his apprehension show. "Really: you doin' the jam race t'morrow then?"
This agitated Brock, but he didn't let it show.
"Jam race?" he asked. "What's that then?"
"God, Brock!... didn't you know - the whole school is goin' down to the park t'morrow to race with jam! You oughta come down. It's through the forest. Plenty of thick vegetation..."
"Right . . ." said Brock. "Race with jam?"
He paused for a moment, put a melodramatic fist against his forehead as if in deep contemplation.
"Do you expect the jam to start running or something? As far as I know, jam is something you eat: not something you race against."
"Don't dis!" retaliated Ash, "It's a good concept!" Ash was by this time arse naked backing into the shower.
Brock felt the Kakuna in his pants perform 'Harden'. He rushed up to Ash, and pushed him gently against a nearby wall.
"Ash," he said. "I have something to confess . . . I feel for you, not only as a friend, but something . . . more."
Brock saw how Ash's graceful feminine eyelashes fluttered as he stared back, utterly perplexed. Ash could feel Brock's heated breath tumbling over his throat and his heart rate increased. Beginning to breathe heavily, he said, "What do you mean, Brock. We are friends, aren't we?"
"Yes . . ." said Brock, frustrated at having to explain. "But I want us to . . . be something more than friends. Like Charizard . . . it's still Charmander deep down, but it's also something more . . . do you see?"
"I ...think so" said Ash, almost at a whisper. A strange idea had dawned on him.
"I see the way you look at Misty, Ash," said Brock. "And I feel jealous. Not because she sometimes returns those glances, but because you give them to her in the first place . . . I want you, Ash. I want you like you want to be the very best. I want you more than that."
Brock pressed his body closer to Ash's hoping that this time Ash would at last get the picture as his member grew incessantly now against Ash's leg. "Will you say yes?" he whispered.
Ash didn't quite know what to say . . . Brock seemed to have become awfully serious all of a sudden, wanting to show him his rock pokémon. It didn't make much sense to Ash: he'd seen Geodude a thousand times before, and it wasn't terribly interesting. Suddenly he felt a hardness against his leg: it came from within Brock's pants. He had his Geodude in his pants?!
Brock was now very intimately close to Ash's naked and vulnerable body. Was now really the time? Was he being too overpowering? Ash's face was turning slowly away from his. Downwards. Brock's fingers fiddled idly with his belt buckle. Maybe it was better if he stripped too; it would make them more equal. Brock decided that he would take a shower too. "You know, I've gotten awfully sweaty, running around up there. I think I should shower as well."
"Errr, sure, Brock," said Ash, staring at Brock's hand in confusion. "Y'should probably take Geodude out of y'pants first, though . . ."—Brock looked into his eyes intensely, so Ash added, hoping to be helpful,—"Y'know how water affects rock pokémon."
"...yeah," breathed Brock, still gazing into Ash's deeply intoxicating blue eyes, absorbing the soft scent of his dark, mousy hair. As he moved away into the changing room, he tried his hardest to subdue the desperately hard boner that was almost ripping his jeans. As he divested himself of his underwear he made sure to only think immensely sexual thoughts about Ash when the correct time came. He entered the shower nude and deliberately walked a short distance away from Ash, whom he almost thought was staring at him.
Ash stared at Brock. Where had he put his Geodude? he wondered, as it seemed to be nowhere in sight . . . then he noticed Brock's willy—he snickered; this was the first willy he had seen that was not his own—and saw that it was . . . standing up. That was odd . . . he'd never seen that before. He followed Brock into the shower:
"What happened to your Geodude?" he asked, smiling.
"I didn't bring it after all," replied Brock. Ash was staring at his penis and it had responded in a way he didn't want at this point.
"Never mind," said Ash, shrugging, wondering to himself what had pushed against his leg, but felt too stupid to ask. He turned away from Brock, activated the shower, and bent down to pick up the bar of soap somebody had left handily on the floor . . .
Brock felt his breath escape his lungs in a burst of overflowing passion. As Ash playfully scrabbled to pick up the soap that he honestly had not put there, his brain was palpitating with indecisive thoughts. Should he, shouldn't he. It was the wrong way to go about it, yet it was so tempting. Dizzily, Brock, unheard by Ash because of the water, moved up to Ash and made the decision that would change the course of their relationship forever.
The soap was damned slippery. He grasped it in his hands and—yoink!—out it flew. After a few failed attempts, Ash had it. "Victory!" he thought triumphantly. Suddenly, he felt a hard warmth press against his left buttock.
"Hey, Brock?" called Ash. "I think I found your Geodude . . ."
"No," exhaled Brock, "it found you."
"Err," Ash felt the Geodude move a little to the right. "Yeah, it seems to like me. I wonder what it's doing with my rear—ACH!"
Brock felt a hot shear wave of sexual energy pass over him as it happened. For that moment nothing else mattered: he was utterly fulfilled. The orgasm lasted some twenty seconds and somewhere, the far off sound of Ash's cries could be heard, almost completely masked by the pumping of the blood in his veins.
Ash had absolutely NO IDEA what was going on: something—he had no idea what—was lodged up his rectum. It was long, hard, and hot, and felt like no pokémon he had ever encountered before. Suddenly, he didn't want to be the very best: he did NOT want to catch 'em all—not if THIS was the result. His eyes bulged as his hand clamped around the soap, sending the slippery block flying across the shower room. The pokémon seemed to be trying to escape his rear: he could feel it trying to pull itself out, then, for some reason, flying back in. He wondered curiously if some other pokémon was pushing it. He moved his hand around to try and grab it, to pull it out, and instead found Brock's hot thigh.
"Brock?!" he cried out, confused, as the inside of his ass suddenly exploded with warmth. What was going on?!
The last throes of energy left Brock with this mighty climax, and he stumbled back, exhausted and happy. As he lay on his back with the cooling droplets of water falling on him, he sighed with elation at having finally captured the only one he ever wanted to own. But after a few seconds, the feeling left him, to be replaced by a deep and dark fear of the consequences of his actions. He slowly and somewhat stiffly sat up and noticed the pulsing mass that had been his poker had become a soiled and floppy embarrassment. He hazarded a glance over to where Ash had fallen, a heap on the floor, crying bitterly and holding himself.
Ash held his ass in a vice-like grip, hoping that by claming his hands down on the buttocks in an almost-painful manner, he could calm the fiery feeling that came from inside . . . he felt so violated, so wronged. Had it truly been Brock who'd done this to him? Even now, he couldn't bring himself to believe it . . . Maybe it'd been a rogue Kakuna . . . but no!—Kakuna's were renowned for being cowardly! They would never attack him.
"Brock," he said in between sobs. "What just happened?!"
"I dunno..." groaned Brock with unending remorse, his sides aching with pity for Ash. How could he have so abused an innocent thirteen-year-old? Brock felt old, even though he was only fourteen. He sobbed in time with Ash, as he pulled himself up from the slippery tiles, narrowly avoiding the soap. He stumbled carelessly into the changing room and began to dry himself with the intention of leaving before Ash could enter after him.
Ash's sobbing slowly dissipated, like the steam that surrounded his prone body. He opened blurry eyes, and noticed the bar of soap he had been trying to grasp earlier. He sat there, his thoughts cast asunder, concentrating on that bar of soap for a moment or so. The hot shower still poured upon his back, and distantly, somewhere in his mind, he knew that it was painfully hot, that he was staying under too long, that it would leave a red mark, but he did not care. He felt nonchalant toward just about everything now. He breathed heavily for a moment or so, as Brock left the showers. His friend had done something to him—he did not know what—but he did not like it. He stood, and tried to concentrate on life's joys . . . Pikachu, for instance. He wished he had brought Pikachu with him; Pikachu would have electrified them all, no doubt, what with the excessive amounts of water, but even that would have been better than this feeling of violation, of degradation. He stood: he had to confront Brock, find out what he had done.—But when he went out into the changing rooms, Brock had gone. Ash felt tears of frustration entering his eyes, and he felt on a deeper level awfully cheated.
Brock stood outside in the rain. The school day had finished, and the sunny weather had become the icon of pathetic fallacy. Drenched and unwell, he felt icy, malevolent trickles of rainwater sliding down his back. He longed to go back, to tell Ash it was all a mistake, to hug him with profound friendship - the sexual passion gone from his spirit. But he knew he would not be able to confront him. The hurt was too severe. Would Ash ever forgive him for ruining his child-like virtue? It seemed inevitable that they would not be friends from that moment on - but, with sour revulsion at his own acts, and intense yearning for absolution, a flicker of hope lighted in his throbbing heart.
Ash grabbed his clothes, and quickly pulled on his Pikachu-socks. They were cute, he reflected, not that that seemed to matter much at the moment: but it was the little details of life that made it worth living. He needed all the comfort he could get now, and the Pikachu-socks leant him that comfort, oddly enough. So did his Pikachu doll. And his Pikachu underwear. And his Pikachu hat. And his Pikachu tattoo. And . . . dang, he was getting distracted. He pulled on his Pikachu jacket and rushed out of the changing room, looking for Brock. He stood there, rain pouring down his black hair, his brown skin, and Ash felt distinctly . . . separate . . . from him—this was no longer simply a person before him: there was something incredibly alien about Brock. Something incredibly outside, and even Ash, who wasn't particularly xenophobic, felt fear for Brock at this point: an unreasoning fear, that wreaked havoc in his muscles, making him feel loose and empty, making his head feel hot and heavy.
"Brock . . ." he said, unsure of how to go on.
Brock immediately tensed; every muscle was wrought and strangely tight. It was Ash. Did he dare turn round? It wasn't his place now to talk to that boy, Dread welled up inside him - he should turn round - but to look into those pretty eyes... those sad, lonely, defiled eyes? He heard the soft footsteps of Ash's Pikachu socks edging, sopping, towards him, and he began to cry. The hot tears made his face burn in contrast to the gripping cold of the rain.
Ash's arm appeared round his left side. The face at his right. They were both unbelievably wet, yet sharing the same sodden, dark, lonely bus-shelter... even the one that was falling to the ground. Brock was moved and realised just how much Ash really meant to him as a friend. They had fought so many Pokémon battles, shared so many different emotions... They had both looked up to each other for different reasons, and now it came to this: would he have the grace, the tenderness and the love to forgive he, Brock, his once best friend, this terrible act of selfishness. Brock returned the sentiment and they held each other for a moment...
Ash walked beside Brock and found himself shocked to see tears running down the side of his friend's face. Yes, he still thought of Brock as a friend, even now. Ash couldn't bring himself to hate Brock—what had happened had scared him, yes, and it had hurt a little, yes, but he still didn't understand it. Brock seemed as pained by the act as he was, so how could he condemn his friend for it? He put an arm around Brock's side. A moment later, he felt the gesture returned.
"Brock," he said, his voice surprisingly firm considering the mix of emotions he felt. He wondered what he could say, to comfort his friend, to stop the tears running down his face. "I understand."
Brock welled over. "I'm sorry," he whispered, simply. Ash's body was this time warm and comforting, but it gave a shiver of emotion and cold at being out, half-exposed to the wind and the rain. Brock removed his outer cagoule and wrapped Ash inside it as tightly as he could. This was what friendship and love was really about.
That night as they separated, Brock knew he would be able to face the next day. The ordeal was over, and they were reconciled. Ash and he were to remain friends forever.
|
Linear Mode
