A Dragonair's Dilemma

If it could talk, the Dragonair would have been screaming at the top of its lungs. The injustice of it all; him just sitting there and staring at his computer, ignoring her slithering around below his desk, her dire plight. She had already tried just about everything: nuzzling his leg (didn’t notice), climbing onto the keyboard (tossed to the floor), a weak ice beam to the foot (nearly kicked her outside). Impatient, she slid up the bookshelf behind his chair to see what, exactly, kept him from acknowledging her terrible plight.

And it was worse than she feared. A practically empty Word doc filled one monitor while the other sported a minimalist Eelektross, their f.lux-tinted light casting a faint yellow glow on a head propped up with a tired fist. The doc’s title clarified its eventual purpose as a report for work, and she didn’t have to be a psychic Pokémon to tell that he would rather do anything else. Was it that hard to get up for five minutes and satisfy a poor little Dragonair? She obviously couldn’t. Her trainer’s Gardevoir Rianne had hands, could possibly be convinced to bring stuff down, but the dragon had already checked; dead asleep, her sheet barely stretched over that shiny orange chest spike of hers. No help there. All the others were either too short or just plain unwilling to help; this was her last hope, and it seemed that she might have to go to bed unsatisfied. Then she had a brilliant idea, an idea which might finally distract him enough to get him out of that stupid green chair, and with a devious glint in her eye she started to put her plan into motion.

She had to get to his lap, first. Careful not to press her long reptilian body too hard against his body, she slid up his left leg, leaving her tail coiled and her head hovering precisely between his legs. A quick glance up told her he hadn’t noticed her little ploy, but she’d have to be careful for it to stay that way. Thankfully he didn’t wear a belt at home. Her tongue reached towards him—slowly, as if it were an explorer in uncharted territory—and curled itself through the hole in his zipper, inching it all the way down and proceeding to pop the button open. Now his pants were open for all to see; for a moment her head stood transfixed by the bulge in his black briefs. After a second she shook it off, though, and using her teeth she pulled down the elastic band of his underwear, revealing her trainer’s limp cock. First stage done, she thought. And he hadn’t even noticed!

That would change soon enough.

The long, slick, slimy length that was her tongue reached across what felt like infinity towards its destination; once there, its forked end started to wrap around his member until she could taste his salty sweaty balls. She felt his manhood push against her tongue as it expanded, coating it with her cool saliva; his arousal filled her nostrils; a single drop of pre escaped the head which she quickly sucked up. That drop’s taste aroused the Dragonair as well—some of her own liquids started to drip down her tail—and an involuntary shudder finally caught her trainer’s attention.

“Goddamnit, Dea! Could you please stop bothering me, I’m trying to- what the fuck?”

For the first few seconds he just stared at the scene below him. His brain refused process it. Couldn’t blame it, either; stuff like that generally stayed in the tabloids and the darker corners of the Web. He certainly hadn’t been looking for it. Hell, he had never even thought about it until a trip to Sinnoh last year, but… those eyes. Their impossible brightness, the question—”Yes?”—hiding behind their pupils

Shit, that was already a year ago. A friend of his from grade school, a good friend, was writing his Ph.D on prehistoric Sinnoh, and that friend had asked him to help with his research. Being the good friend that he was, Dea’s trainer had accepted the thirty-day trip up north, and deciding against archaeology—way too fucking cold—he proceeded to spend most of his time poring over dusty tomes inside Canalave Library. It was there that he read those myths. Myths of a long-ago time, when the boundaries between human and Pokémon were blurred; one even spoke of marriage! He hadn’t believed them, of course, but even after the trip ended the thought stayed stuck in the back of his mind. Were Pokémon really that close to humans? They certainly seemed more intelligent than most people gave them credit for, but could they reach even higher?

Those thoughts burned for a few weeks, but eventually he shifted his attention to more important subjects like work and EV-training. Or he had, until an incident just a few nights ago. The clock read 11 AM, and Dea’s trainer was ready to head to bed after a long hard day at work. Passing through the kitchen on the way to the staircase, he noticed a stray glass of water at Rianne’s spot on the table. He knew she had had a sore throat that morning, so he guessed she had planned to bring it with her and had forgotten; grabbing the glass, he walked up the stairs to Rianne’s room and opened the door.

He didn’t think that sight would ever go away. She was in bed, alright; across the room, next to the bedside table on which he had planned on placing the cup, his shiny Gardevoir lay in a white twin-size bed—right hand knuckle-deep in her privates. No dress or sheet (both were sitting at her feet), just rubbing, shaking, moaning in the open air, eyes closed and a smile on her face. Then those eyes snapped open and spotted him standing in the doorway, his tomato-red face looking down at her.

Both of them reacted at the same time; he took a step back towards the door, a bit of water sloshing over his hand, while she—looking absolutely mortified—grabbed for her Pikachu sheet to cover herself. Once her privates were safely hidden, no one spoke for what felt like hours, until he somehow managed to ask “Is this yours?”. She nodded; even then her face stared up with shock and horror. He placed it on the table, muttering “Sorry” over and over until he was finally in the safety of the hallway.

God, what a mess. The one time he just barges in without knocking, and what is she doing? Something he didn’t want to see, that’s for sure. But the delivery had been made, and that image wasn’t leaving his head anytime soon, so he slipped down to bed and shut his eyes.

He would never in a million years admit it to himself, but that incident hadn’t been all that bad. He kind of liked it, actually. As in, let-me-help-you-with-that liked it. Subconscious desires to re-enact those myths he had read about so long ago. Again, nothing he would ever willingly tell anyone, even his Pokémon (especially his Pokémon ), but it was true. And now, just a few nights later, Dea was bringing those thoughts to a head.

Better than writing this report, he thought, looking down at those eyes, and with a nod he whispered, “Yes.”

Now that she had his permission, the Dragonair dove full force onto his cock. Her tongue constricted and retracted as she sucked up and down; her horn softly nuzzled her trainer’s chest; the cold crystal at her throat brushed against his balls. Pure pleasure was what he felt, and she was happy to give it--but at the same time, her own parts were throbbing more than ever, almost painfully, dripping its juices to the floor. If he’d just notice that and help a girl out…

Dea’s trainer, in a short bout of lucidity between spasms, finally noticed the Dragonair cloaca steadily forming a small puddle by his now-wet sock. Curious, he picked up her tail to examine it closer, grasping it by the two blue crystals and lifting it up to about chest-height. Dea hardly even noticed; most of her body still rested either on the ground or his leg, and sucking his dick took most of her focus away anyhow. Arousal dripped on his lap as he held it, but he wasn’t in the mood to care.

Now, this man was not the virgin some people made him out to be. He’d been with more than a few ladies over the course of his short life, one of which had just left him a few weeks ago; he knew how to pleasure a girl. Surely this wouldn’t be too different?

Sticking out two digits from his right hand, Dea’s trainer started to finger her. Her eyes widened. Before she was caught, she hung out with almost exclusively other Dratini, and since none of them actually had fingers—or hands or arms, for that matter— she had never had more than some rocks or a tail inside her sex, and now that she felt her trainer’s deft hands returning the favor she felt consumed by pleasure, sending her tail into a frenzy; somehow he managed to stay in her tail as it whipped about.

He, too, could not believe just how good her mouth felt. Things were happening with that tongue which he hadn’t known were possible, not to mention the bursts of hot and cold emanating from her crystals. Feeling close to finishing, he held back until he couldn’t restrain himself further and went out in a blaze of glory, dumping what felt like gallons into Dea’s waiting mouth.

The burst of semen struck Dea like an oncoming train, filling her mouth with his thick, salty secretion. It wasn’t all that bad, actually. Not enough to make a meal, but a tasty snack nonetheless. Only a few drops dribbled out the corners of her mouth; the rest she sucked down with gusto. Not long afterward she, too, succumbed to the pleasure and climaxed, eyes half-closed, a muffled shout issuing from dampened vocal chords, a burst of translucent juices splashing all over her trainer’s hand, chest, and face. Damn, that felt good, both of them thought.

Slowly, she extricated herself from his cock, licked off the little bits of white still clinging to the skin, and slithered up to his shoulder, gently nuzzling his bright-red cheek to get his attention. He finally came to after a few minutes, turning his head to look into those bright, happy eyes. “Thank you, I guess,” he told her. She nodded.

Then her stomach grumbled and she remembered her purpose.

Thankfully her trainer wasn’t distracted yet. Nuzzling him again, she looked right and started pointing towards the hallway, hoping hard that he might actually get a clue for once.

“Huh?”

Not today. Giving an exasperated head-shake, she swung her tail around and pointed at her wide open mouth, miming her desire as hard as she possibly could, and it still took a full five seconds before he realized what was up and started walking towards the hall, a triumphant Dea riding on his shoulders.

Inside her trainer’s mind, thoughts about Dea’s advances possessed him. Before, the idea of a Pokémon doing that sort of thing had seemed strange, impossible even, but now… He’d have to look into doing it more often. With her permission, of course. Maybe they could even get Rianne into the party…

He filled the medium-sized bowl in the corner with a large bag of Poké-Puffs, and immediately the Dragonair leapt off and began devouring the sweet, salty food. As she stuffed her face with her favorite food, her old favorite food, she played back that experience in her head. Pokémon hold pretty much the same taboo as humans with regards to sex, and her intentions had pretty much been to extort food out of him, but damn, his cum just tasted so good! Maybe next week, if she felt frisky, she and her trainer could have a bit more fun together…

She smiled.