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Unfortunately, some things permanently changed the relationship between trainer and pokemon—and getting transformed into a pokemon by one of your teammates and then thoroughly fucked by the other was one such thing.

Maxwell found to his chagrin that both Meowscarada and Gardevoir—who were both already somewhat bratty pokemon who could at times be hard to control—had grown completely ungovernable the past few days. Ever since his failure to get Gardevoir her much-desired Shadow Ball TM and her inflicting her Trace ability on him in revenge, Maxwell found that neither pokemon looked at him like a trainer; instead, they seemed to view him as a peer. Grumbling to himself, the young man tried to corral his pokemon into behaving again, but neither wanted to oblige. Such a pain…

Worse still, whatever Gardevoir had done by giving Maxwell her Trace ability, it seemed to be permanent. Gardevoir herself could no longer pluck abilities from passing pokemon, and whenever Maxwell was around another pokemon, he found his body starting to tingle as Trace tried to get to work. Thankfully, he was always able to vamoose before the changes initiated again, and he’d avoided a repeat. It also seemed that after his initial transformation with Meowscarada that he wouldn’t transform again unless he wished to. Whenever he was around his own pokemon—which was often—Maxwell felt his inner Trace pick up on Meowscarada’s Overgrow ability and have it burble beneath his body like a unique, staticky sensation. But unlike before, when it burst out on its own, this time it stayed subdued, waiting for him to call it.

Meowscarada obviously wanted a round 2. The spring-furred cat draped himself over his trainer, chuckling playfully and stroking Maxwell’s cheek with one fuzzy digit. “Stop it,” Maxwell said, trying to push Meowscarada off of him. The feline just giggled, considering it a game, and fawned over his trainer even harder, rubbing a furry cheek against Maxwell’s own. “No way, Meowscarada, we’re not doing that again…”

No matter how much I want to, Maxwell thought reflectively. Truth be told, the sex he’d undergone as a pokemon—a female pokemon at that!—had probably been the best of his life, complete with Meowscarada using vines as makeshift leashes to put him in his place. More than once Maxwell, in the privacy of the night and with his door locked, had rubbed out an orgasm while fantasizing about another tryst with his pokemon. But cumming from masturbating—hell, cumming as a guy in general—just didn’t seem to hit the same ever since he’d been fucked insensate by his own pokemon. Maxwell hoped that time and distance would quell the urges, but they didn’t abate.

Frankly, the only thing that made him uncertain about doing it again and satisfying those desires was the uncertainty. What if the next time he transformed, there wasn’t a way back? What if he was transformed into a female and impregnated? There were too many unknowns for him to just jump in willy-nilly. Yet, as his urges continued climbing, he found himself desperate and nearly insensate from moaning.

Finally, he decided to do something about it. Plenty of professional battlers went to various gurus for needs on things like moves, type matchups, and effort values. Surely there had to be an ability guru, right? Surely…

---

Maxwell finally found a fellow who seemed to be both knowledgeable and discreet. He lived some miles out of town on a small ranch where he tended to various domestic pokemon like Miltank, Gogoat, and Mareep. Maxwell left behind his two party members when he went to visit, figuring that they would only make trouble.

The guru’s ranch was a series of solid pastures and paddocks made with log fences, all amidst a cleared-out area in the middle of a picturesque woodland. Grazing pokemon, many of them plump and well-cared for, all followed Maxwell with curious eyes as he strode up the dirt pathway to knock at the simple wooden door. The guru opened it not even a minute later.

He was a scrawny, balding man of average height whose hair fell as a grey curtain around his ears and hair. He had a notably pointed nose and a playful, knowing look to his eye.

“Well, well,” he said, stepping outside. He motioned for Maxwell to head over to a pair of carved wooden chairs on his porch. “You’re the young fellow in question, are ya?”

Maxwell cleared his throat as he sat down. “Erm, yes sir. I want to know if there are any reports of pokemon… uh, giving their abilities to trainers.”

The guru’s pencil-thin eyebrows climbed and he said nothing, pulling out a pipe and beginning to smoke while waiting for Maxwell to continue. The young man squirmed under the pressure of the wordless silence before stammering out: “M-My, uh, Gardevoir… I think she might’ve, um, given me her Trace ability?”

Chuckling lightly, the older man puffed a few breaths of his pipe before removing it to stare at Maxwell. “So that’s it, then. I was wondering if it was a psychic pokemon. They’re the only ones what can do that, ya know.” He puffed again. “So tell me. Ya had any odd reactions to that ability?”

Maxwell flushed. Was he really going to tell a stranger that his pokemon had turned him into a female echo of itself and then fucked him? What he stammered out was “Y-Yes, when I pick up a pokemon’s ability it can… uh… momentarily cause some, uh, physical w-weirdness.”

“Mm.” The guru seemed to understand there was something that Maxwell wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t push. “Alright, well, I s’pose ya did pay up front.” He rose with a stretch and a crick in his back. “I’ll do some digging. Stay out here.”

Maxwell stammered. “Wha—b-but can’t I come inside?”

“Naw. Man’s home is private, ya know. Don’t worry, my mons is all well-behaved. They won’t hurtcha.”

I’m not worried about them HURTING me, Maxwell thought as the guru went back into his ranch house, the door locking behind him.

He could feel Trace trying to react to the ranch pokemon—but thankfully, their distance grazing a bit away as well as the fact that there were so many of them competing for Trace’s attention seemed to overwhelm the ability.

How do pokemon with reactive abilities like this normally deal with them? he wondered. It seems so distracting…

The sound of a heavy floor fan—likely used for white noise to help the guru concentrate as he studied—buzzed from inside the house. Maxwell stretched and checked the time. He ought to have brought a lunch or something.

Suddenly, Trace spiked and the young man gasped; he could feel it excitedly building towards something, like a pinprick sensation in his skin or a tight knot of anticipation in his chest. The sound of heavy feet against the earth resounded in his ear. The two ‘boss’ pokemon of the ranch appeared—an Ampharos and a Flaaffy.

Ampharos was tall, even for his species, with a stout pear-shaped body resplendent with a vivid marigold coloration and dark stripes along his ears, neck, and tail. He had the build of a pokemon well suited for labor; he had likely been corralling and commanding the other ranch pokemon for years at this point. His second-in-command, Flaaffy, was a typical specimen of his species, with a partial coat of fine wool atop eyecatching pink skin. Both pokemon faintly smelled of ozone, carrying the power of electricity with them wherever they went. It was quite the showcase.

And Maxwell’s body reacted very indulgently towards Ampharos in particular.

With a panic, Maxwell tried to rise and leave to get some distance away from the two Electric-types, but Trace kicked in too fast. Maxwell gasped as he lurched over, clutching his stomach, as he inadvertently copied Ampharos’s Static ability—and the transformations began.

Immediately, he began getting smaller. That’d happened before, when he’d become a Meowscarada, but this was more noticeable than before. He shrank to the point where his clothes draped off of him and even the wooden furniture on the ranch’s porch seemed oversized, as if he was a kindergartner again. Wh-what’s going on? he wondered shuddering as he kept changing. Ampharos aren’t this small, right?

His answer soon came. His skin began fading into a different color, but it wasn’t the familiar yellow of Ampharos; instead, he shifted into a solid azure blue. All across his body, Maxwell’s hair—not just atop his head, but on his arms and legs as well—began to change, spooling together into clouds of fluffy, white-yellow wool. With a confused baa sound, his bones and joints painlessly rearranged themselves, forcing him onto all fours as his hands and feet morphed into small, almost dainty hooves.

“I’m a—a Maree-eee-eep?!” he cried out, his voice warbling as only a sheep’s could.

The spectacle of his transformation had certainly gotten the attention of the ranch pokemon, who watched his new form unfolding with interest. Ampharos folded his arms, the crimson jewels on his tail and forehead glimmering slightly, and smirked. He began communicating in that way that pokemon did, all pheromones and body language, and just as he had with Meowscarada, Maxwell found he could understand Ampharos now too.

Well well, Ampharos mused, seeming cocky. What’s this? I didn’t know a person could morph into a pokemon so readily. Is a Ditto playing a prank?

 Maxwell opened his mouth to try to explain but cut off as his newly-acquired Static ability sent voltage rocketing through him. Every part of him—his flesh, his bones, even his wool—seemed to thrum with passive static electricity just waiting to be unleashed in a crackling display. The electricity hummed in a state of ambient power that was eminently distracting. How did pokemon deal with having such power in them all the time?

The electricity stirred something inside of him—a bundle of instincts that came pre-packaged with his new form. Though it manifested differently than before—sheep were distinct from cats, after all—Maxwell was under no illusions as to what this was:

He was in heat.

“N-Nooo,” he groaned as his body felt warm and fluid. How could this be happening again? The warm feeling settled between his back legs as his cock receded, melding into his new form before emerging as a puffy mound, replete with a sopping slit. He was, once again, female.

The newly-minted Mareep managed to hop off the porch onto the pasture proper, panting from delirium and overstimulation. The electricity sparking through his body and the overwhelming sensations of being a needy female in heat were very distracting. With a snort, Ampharos trod over to him, inspecting, and then announced with bemusement to the onlooking ranch pokemon: I don’t believe it! This human is now a ewe, and even smells just like any ewe in heat!

Some of the onlooking pokemon seemed confused, others excited; Maxwell noticed that Flaaffy’s cock had already emerged to stand at attention. His body was so wound-up and needy that he knew, intrinsically, that he wouldn’t be doing anything other than trying to sate it. He could grapple with the fact that he’d let himself get fucked in pokemon form again once his needs were sated and he was back to normal.

But, well, why bother with Flaaffy when the boss was around?

Baaing needily, Maxwell made his way over to Ampharos and, to the larger pokemon’s amusement, presented himself. He buckled his forelegs against the ground while pushing his rump up against Ampharos, showcasing his puffy blue pussy.

Ampharos snorted, but clearly enjoyed what he saw. From between his legs, an absolutely massive thick red cock emerged. Even in the throes of heat, the size gave him pause. Ampharos was easily at least a foot long, with a hefty flare near the end like an equine, and with a medial ring that looked tough to manage. And Maxwell was a Mareep—smaller even than the average woman! What had he gotten himself into?!

Still his doubts oscillated as Ampharos took his position behind the human. He slapped his long shaft down against Maxwell’s back, the fur slightly cushioning the blow. Maxwell gulped but didn’t change his position. Despite his reservations, he needed this heat to be sated…

Well, I don’t quite know what’s happening, said Ampharos. He ran a paw over Maxwell’s woolen back; sparks between danced as the two pokemon’s Static abilities played to each other. Ampharos’s were far stronger than Maxwell’s and the taller pokemon seemed to somehow absorb the electricity, drawing power from it. But I certainly am not afraid to take advantage of what I’ve been offered! He hiked his cock back and Maxwell could feel it draaaaag along the top of his back. The sensation, even more than the sight, drove home just how large Ampharos really was. Finally, the flared tip nudged insistently at Maxwell’s pussy. The way the cock teased him with an entryway was absolutely maddening. You ready? Ampharos taunted.

Maxwell swallowed again. “Y-Yea—”

He couldn’t even finish his word before Ampharos slammed in. Holy hell was he huge!

Maxwell’s voice pitched in a high sound that was half squeal, half baa as he was forced to part around Ampharos. Immediately his back legs gave out and he flopped down to the ground, only for Ampharos to grab a pawful of wool to hoist him back up, only using one arm.

Damn, you’re tight, Ampharos said conversationally. His cock had shoved in about to the medial ring and Maxwell’s body felt like it was going to explode from the feedback. Ampharos nudged his hips back and forth and left Maxwell enduring the sensation of his massive member rolling and probing against his inner walls. The size difference between them was unreal.

Bracing his paw against Maxwell’s head, Ampharos hiked back only to slam in again even harder. This time his medial ring squeezed past Maxwell’s entrance and he baaed hoarsely as his vision momentarily skipped. He could feel every centimeter of Ampharos inside him, bending and buckling and making him squirm. When Ampharos held for a moment, cock throbbing, Maxwell’s body tried to squeeze back in response despite the futility of such an endeavor. All it did was make him babble wordlessly with stimulation and fight to stay conscious while enduring the sharp sensation of a tunnel squeezing valiantly around something far too large for it.

Snorting, Ampharos bucked in again, and again—until he could reach no more. A sharp, piercing sensation of raw bliss—so orgastic that Maxwell thought he might very well die—rammed into him. Ampharos’s massive cock had met Maxwell’s cervix. He squealed from the sensation as Ampharos plowed against his most intimate barrier, and then he lost control of his Static ability. Sparks danced through the air, making the onlooking pokemon cheer and trumpet with happiness. The sparks, just like before, were absorbed by Ampharos, who used them to spur himself even harder and fiercer into Maxwell, his pace relentless.

Chancing a glance between his legs, Maxwell groaned in shock at the sight. His cute, adorable little Mareep body was visibly distending from the massive cock inside of it, bulging so obscenely that it was noticeable even with the heavy coat of wool layering his body. With a grunt, Ampharos shoved in again, sparks dancing around Maxwell’s pussy as the friction summoned more ambient static from the two of them. The sparks kissed his pussy lips and his clit and made him shudder.

But that wasn’t the only thing that was noticeable on his underbelly. Down near his pussy, formerly hidden by the wool, was a soft pink pair of udders. As Ampharos kept on fucking Maxwell, the back-and-forth motion of sex set his udder rubbing against his wool, stimulating him beyond belief. But even then, he felt something else happen; he felt something slosh inside.

He was quickly brimming with milk.

Maxwell bleated with both arousal and confusion as his new sheep udder quickly filled with milk. The sagging bag quickly grew large and formidable enough to sink past his wool and become noticeably. It sloshed and churned and drew just as much attention as the rest of the spectacle, with many pokemon pointing it out.

Weirdly, them pointing it out awoke something else inside of him, more sheeplike instincts that were separate from his need to breed: subservience and docility. Sheep, Mareep included, were passive and domesticated animals. Even in the thrall of sexual need, Maxwell found himself comfortably settling into a mindset that this was all fine; business as usual, really. He was a sheep and was meant to provide others with wool and milk, and even as others in the herd studied him lasciviously, that was fine—it was just a way for him to get even milkier, right?

Good little ewe! Ampharos said, continuing to fuck Maxwell. He grabbed the Mareep outright and used both hands to hoist him to a superior position, using the smaller pokemon like his own personal onahole. Not only do you give pleasure, but you brim with milk? You’re good at this, aren’t you, strange human?

Maxwell glowed with pride and baaed proudly. His domestication instinct greatly appreciated being praised like this! He was a good ewe and he was milky too! It was amazing! Wonderful, even!

With a cry of happiness, Maxwell unleased all his static as a spray of lightning. Ampharos absorbed the power and, trumpeting, slammed into Maxwell with the most force he could yet. The human-turned-Mareep’s eyes bulged as he felt his paramour pumping him full of cum, and he bleated softly as his pussy fluttered in kind, blessing and delivering him with an orgasm of his own.

The two of them slumped back, both panting, and then Ampharos hoisted Maxwell off of him and set him aside. The sore little sheep wanted to just rest, but he had a duty to perform. Laying on his side, he lifted his leg to show his overburdened udder, wordlessly inviting the ranch pokemon to come and sate themselves. They approached him hesitantly at first, almost as if not believing what he was offering, but quickly came to swarm him. As warm mouths affixed his stiff teats and tugged nourishment from him, Maxwell leaned back happily. Oh yes, this was the life.

---

How long did it go on for? Maxwell couldn’t say. The time spent nursing blended together in a haze of pleasure, pokemon after pokemon affixing to his udder and tugging at his long, milky teats. Skiddo and Miltank and fellow Mareep, he was more than happy to nourish and feed them all. That’s what a domesticated mon did, right?

When he was finally dry, he bleated a plaintive cry out of his soft, sheepy voice, standing on weak legs and shuddering as the Ampharos’s cum trickled out of him. The bossy Electric-type stretched and yawned and communicated to the rest of the herd. It had to have been at least an hour since their tryst.

Come on, then. I know the rest of you want a go! he mused with amusement, leaning against the wooden posts that held up the porch. How often do you have the opportunity to plow an outsider without consequence? Especially a human!

The first pokemon, a Gogoat, approached Maxwell uncertainly. Does this even count as a human? he asked. Ampharos shrugged—a distinctly humanlike gesture, in Maxwell’s opinion—and the Gogoat just shook his head before trotting around to mount Maxwell.

The transformed human’s new instincts were definitely in the pilot seat now. His natural inclination for submissiveness—as a domesticated pokemon, he naturally wanted to serve and please!—coupled with his intense desire to breed drove any lingering uncertainties from Maxwell’s mind. The Mareep presented himself to Gogoat, baaing and bleating as he raised his cute striped tail. “P-Please take me,” he fumbled out, trying to communicate as best he could. He could feel the heat thrumming through his body—intermittent and humming with electricity. Different than that he’d felt as a Meowscarada, but no less powerful. “I need it!”

Gogoat just snorted. His long cock—not quite as big as Ampharos’s, but still far larger than a Mareep would normally be expected to take—throbbed and he sawed it back and forth against Maxwell’s plump, sodden pussy, making the trainer shiver and moan. Well, mused Gogoat, if you’re sure.

He shoved right in and there was a heavy spike of pleasure. Maxwell’s hooves dug into the soil of the ranch pasture, tensing and gasping as he grappled with the new sensation. His poor little cunny had throbbed after Ampharos’d had his way with Maxwell, and though Gogoat was not quite up to that display, he was still plenty big. Maxwell’s tight tunnel had no choice but to part and accommodate his new entrant. The unceasing ache of being forced to part around a pokemon so much larger than him was absolutely addictive, a deep sensation that kneaded pleasure into his very bones. With a snort, Gogoat plapped his hips regularly against Maxwell’s and before long his cock smashed right up against the transformed man’s cervix just as Ampharos had.

The sensation was just as overwhelming as it was the first time. The thick throbbing rod sent staccato bursts of pleasure through Maxwell each time it kissed his most intimate barrier, and the small sheep bleated uncontrollably as he was fucked into yet another orgasm. Gogoat trumpeted proudly and Ampharos, watching with his arms folded, snorted with amusement. Look at this poor little human, he said, sniggering. Barely able to control the sensations we deal with every day!

In the haze of orgasm, Maxwell couldn’t help but conjure a grumbling thought that neither Ampharos nor Gogoat had quite dealt with the same feeling of orgasm as he was right now, but he could hardly articulate that at the moment. Besides, though he himself had cum, Gogoat was only getting started; the lumbering Grass-type grunted as he kept fucking Maxwell through his orgasm.

This time, when Maxwell came his body sparked and crackled uncontrollably with electricity. Bolts arced out of his fluffy wool and played against the dirt. Gogoat could hardly absorb them or be spurred on as Ampharos had, but as a Grass-type he could easily weather Maxwell’s inadvertent release. In fact, he seemed almost contemptuous.

Is that really the most power you have, little sheep? he taunted. My word, we have lambs on this ranch stronger than you! Maxwell’s attempt at sassing him back was cut off when Gogoat slammed so hard into him that Maxwell’s stomach distended. He slumped down, accepting that at the moment, at least, he could hardly argue against what Ampharos and Gogoat were saying about him. He really was their submissive, serviceable little sheep.

Hooves beat a tempo against the dust, but when they approached the legs were pink and unshaven—Flaaffy, Ampharos’s lieutenant. Wordlessly, the pink sheep hefted a cock in one paw and lined it up with Maxwell’s face. Not doubting his duty for even a moment, Maxwell opened his muzzle, sticking his tongue out and trying to invite Flaaffy in. Flaaffy took advantage of it and slapped his cock against Maxwell’s tongue.

Oh, HEAVEN! Though the sharp and pungent scent of pokemon in rut had played around the forest for a good while now, having a cock right in his face was something else entirely. The heady smell of Flaaffy overwhelmed Maxwell, and even as he gulped eagerly around the pokemon’s proffered cock, he nosed up against the larger sheep’s sweaty, musk-laden balls, drinking in the scent. The smell stirred those uncontrollable instincts in him, singing with delight as they thew themselves into their duty.

“Gllp… ulp… mmllp…” The sound of Maxwell gulping and swallowing around Flaaffy’s cock resounded through the forest, accompanied by the intermittent plaps of the two larger pokemon making use of his holes. Between Gogoat and Flaaffy, Maxwell was spitroasted so hard that he was raised off of the floor, suspended entirely by their cocks. His little hooves dangled beneath him. He sparked again, unable to control the act, and above him the two pokemon met their muzzles and started making out as they continued using him.

His hooves weren’t the only thing dangling, either. Just as before, the stimulation of getting fucked quickly caused his body to pump his udder full of milk. He could hear the slosh, feel the churning liquid as it slapped against the walls of his udder, and felt the tug of gravity as it tugged his milk-laden body closer to the soil. He felt even fuller than he had after Ampharos, which was a miracle; it’d taken an hour for the pokemon to nurse him dry! How long would it take this time?

The realization that he was causing his fuckmate to grow flush with milk again seemed to Gogoat’s liking. The Grass-type’s cock tensed and flooded Maxwell full of cream, but the goat merely slowed his pace instead of quitting outright, slowly grinding his hips back and forth as Maxwell rode out another wave of pleasure. Flaaffy, meanwhile, acted as though he’d absorbed Gogoat’s stamina, plowing Maxwell’s throat with renewed fervor. The Mareep closed his eyes and opened his mouth as wide as he can, taking amusement in the very sounds of him deep-throating pokemon cock: glorrp… glllp… mggllp… He couldn’t see his own neck, of course, but he could feel his throat distending around Flaaffy’s member. The thought of it—and knowing that the rest of the herd was able to see—was debaucherous beyond belief.

Finally, with a heavy grunt, Flaaffy mashed his hips up against Maxwell’s mouth and grunted, spilling his own seed. Maxwell gulped it down eagerly (it wasn’t as if he had a choice in the matter) and the closeness and overpowering scent of Flaaffy’s balls was enough to deliver him to his third orgasm of the day. Spent, Maxwell’s two paramours leaned over, still suspending him between them on their slowly-diminishing cocks, and began making out again.

Maxwell just wanted to rest… why hadn’t anyone ever told him that being a ewe meant getting fucked so often? Besides, he had a nice full udder again which meant it was his duty to attend to the herd. His desire to retreat, however, was dashed as the sound of a latch met his ears.

Oh, right. The guru.

The old man opened his door and sputtered upon seeing an unfamiliar, milky Mareep suspended between two of his pokemon, cum leaking from both ends to curdle against the dust. Gogoat and Flaaffy withdrew sheepishly and let Maxwell sprawl like a sack of potatoes in the dirt, creamy white spunk spilling out of him.

“Well,” said the guru, instantly recognizing where his guest had gone. “I think this confirms my suspicious. When you trace a pokemon’s ability, you become a member of their evolutionary line, is that correct?”

Too worn-out and thoroughly fucked to feel embarrassment at the guru seeing this way, Maxwell instead just released a single, confirming bleap, one that made him hiccup a little spray of cum out of his mouth. The guru shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Well. There are records from Kalos, centuries old, about Gardevoir punishing fallen knights by, effectively, letting her power parasitize the human recipient. The knights would be brought before pokemon and transformed into them before inevitably succumbing to powerful breeding instincts they’d never dealt with before their transformation. Incidentally, it seems the recipient will transform into a pokemon with the same physical characteristics as the one who donated the Trace ability. In your case, your Gardevoir is female, so you can expect to have a pussy.”

Slowly, on shaking legs, Maxwell managed to stand. Even despite the bundle of wool clouding his torso, he still audibly sloshed from his overburdened udder as he moved.

“B-Baaa,” he managed to get out. The guru just scoffed.

“You won’t be permanently locked and it doesn’t seem to have negative consequences beyond any you pick up while a pokemon,” he said. “Better yet, while your initial transformation into a species will be unstoppable, repeat performances are up to you. Not much of a ‘punishment’, is it? Small wonder ancient Kalos discontinued the practice. So yes,” he added, knuckling his chin, “you can live out whatever debaucherous fantasies you want, at least up until Gardevoir takes Trace back. Erm, be warned—if she does that while you’re in pokemon form you’ll be stuck there permanently. Probably the only major risk to this.”

Though Maxwell’s mind was dizzy, he tried to keep track of the information and catalogue it away. Right, it all seemed good. He just needed to make sure Gardevoir wasn’t anywhere close when he was transformed, just in case she got some ideas. The guru smirked and wrote out a bill. “For my consultation,” he said. “Don’t worry, discretion comes without charge.” He chuckled. “It’s not the only thing that cums without charge around here.” And with that parthian shot, he headed back into the ranch house to leave Maxwell with his pokemon. He flopped onto his side, raising his hind legs to show off his udder again. He couldn’t wait for them to drink from him. And then they could do it all over again…

---

Maxwell had remained transformed for hours, finally reverting back to human form around sunset. As the young man picked himself up and was seen off by the horde of pokemon admirers he’d acquired, the guru pored back over the old texts.

He frowned. Hang on… there was one solitary, singular account not mentioned in any of the others that there was some sort of lingering effect on the punished knights of old. Something about the queen taking them on as ladies-in-waiting? He shook his head. No, a lone mention was hardly reputable. He couldn’t afford to linger on this.

Meanwhile, as the now-human Maxwell made his way back to the city, he felt comfortable to be back in his old body—yet he also felt strangely weird. Was it just him, or were his pants a bit tight around the thighs? And why was his chest sore? He wrote it off, reflecting that since he’d been thoroughly fucked as a sheep—after getting spitroasted by Gogoat and Flaaffy, he’d gone another session with Ampharos, before getting plowed by other Mareep and even femdommed by a plump, bossy Miltank—there were bound to be weird lingering feelings.

He idly scratched at his chest as he returned home, already anticipating having more fun with Trace now that he knew it was harmless. He could sate those urges and maybe even have some more fun with his pokemon. After all, there would be no lasting consequences!

Right?