(written of Pokemon anatomy)
In your quest for greener pastures (or, rather, less-green pastures), you wander through the field of forest-high grassblades for hours, and this is no exaggeration. The dense, towering formations of grass-blades are scattered about the field without rhyme or reason. Clearly the navigational concerns of a bug-sized human being are likely not a high priority to the farmers. As you struggle to maintain a consistent bearing, you ultimately wind up getting turned around countless times. More worryingly, the occasional rumbles of some distant giant's footfalls begin to reverberate around you. You find yourself searching for a vantage point... and when you finally get to a rock large enough to allow you to see over the grass, you find that you are farther from your intended destination than when you started, if anything.
But before you can try to chart a better path towards the field, or determine the source of the footfalls, a particularly powerful quake sends you tumbling off of the rock and landing face-first against the dirt. The rumbles grow louder, and you soon begin to hear another sound... the telltale grumbling of a stomach. Whether it is a full one or an empty one, you cannot tell. For a moment, you consider getting atop the rock once more.... but that would be a mistake. It would expose you to the watchful gaze of whatever predator is approaching.
Instead, you rush off in a random direction once more, looking for any opening in the earth, any patch of loose soil, any fallen leaf or discarded relic that could serve as cover. As you advance in meaningless directions, the rumbling intensifies. Just when it appears that the unseen giant may be upon you, you spot a potential hiding spot. A crystalline blue sphere, just a bit bigger than your body. You approach it, theorizing that there might be some way inside.
And then the sphere lurches forward and begins rolling... or, rather, swinging towards you. Before you can respond, you are struck straight-on in the chest by the orb, with a force not incomparable to an automobile collision. You're sent flying back, a painful ringing reverberating through your ears, your vision blurred. The ever-present grassblades seem to practically weave around your body, displaced by your backwards dive. you hit the soil hard and lie there, dazed half to the point of passing out. Barely able to perceive your surroundings, the rumbles of the giant fade from your mind.
When you finally come to, it is to a sound not unlike that of a roar. A roar that fades just as quickly as it began laving you puzzles as to its origin. But it is not your ears that key you in to your predicament. The air around you is hot... unnaturally hot even for a farm under the heat of a midday sun. As you take your first conscious breath since you were knocked over, you are greeted by an overwhelming scent. A scent not unlike that of a dogturd. Actually, on second thought, it's closer to the scent of a horse. You instinctively back away from the source of the noise, but a soft wall blocks off your retreat before you can crawl away from the scent.
You turn around, half expecting to find yourself face to face with a predator's paws...only to find yourself looking at a pile of strange colorful colorful objects. At first glance, you assume them to be toys. But upon further inspection, you realize them to be berries. Finding a food source instead of something that might view you as one is certainly a relief... but given the nauseating aroma filling the air around you, you're hardly appetized... and you're still very apprehensive.
You turn around again... and then you see it. The source of the scent. Directly in front of you is an ample pink pucker, wreathed by the telltale brown smears of a bottom that has not been cleaned. Gazing upwards, you see an even more ample opening... and your fear of predation gives way to embarrassment as you realize that you have found yourself up close and personal with the nethers of the giant. The cunt and tailhole of some pink creature lie before you , freely exposed. As your eyes linger over the creature's womanhood, you begin to feel a sense of dread creeping over you, for reasons you can't quite put your finger on.
Turning your gaze upwards, you quickly understand what it is you are dealing with.
Looming over you, at about 3 and a half feet tall, is a Flaafy that is clearly heavier than is the norm for her species. Her belly protrudes over her nethers, and smears of red, blue, and yellow mark her tummy, almost as if they were warpaint. It is clear that this Pokemon is not wanting for food. In fact, it's living about as opulent a life as a farm animal could afford. Gazing upwards, you catch a glimpse of the creatures impressive 'mane' of wool. The creature's head is turned skyward, a vacant expression on her eyes, a Figy berry clutched in one of her handpaws.
The berry pile, the berry in her grip, her excess weight.... you surmise that this creature must be taking berries grown from the dirt patch, bringing them far enough from the fruit patch to avoid arousing suspicion, and devouring them from there. Gluttonous... but, this being a herbivore, you find that of little concern. And this Pokemon, unlike other farm animals, is perfectly capable of bipedal movement. She might be capable of being reasoned with...
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