Whitney's Punishment

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Lyra cheered, focused on her bouncing Marill. “What’s all them rumours about this Miltank being impossible to beat? That was easy as pie.”

Born and raised in New Bark Town, eighteen-year-old Lyra had her sights set on becoming the champion of the Johto region. It was the same old formula: get eight badges, beat the Elite Four and knock the big boss off their throne. She’d already mowed down Falkner and Bugsy—whose name she so thoroughly enjoyed making fun of. That left Whitney as number three, standing at the other end of this very gym.

Lyra skipped forward, sticking out her hand. “Good game. Now, may I have my Plain Badge?”

But instead of a badge, she got…a meltdown. Whitney dropped to her knees, turning into a blubbering mess.

“This isn’t fair! You cheated, meanie!”

Lyra’s jaw dropped. “How in the world did I cheat? I used two Pokémon, just like you. And I didn’t even give them an item, not even a hold item.”

“You weren’t supposed to actually beat me!”

“Then why do gyms even exist? You gonna give me that Plain Badge and my TM, or are you gonna keep crying?”

Whitney screamed at the top of her lungs. “Why don’t you care? You’re making me sad, and all you care about is a stupid badge!”

Lyra tapped her foot. How long could these waterworks last? She was calm for the first five minutes, mildly irritated for the next five and downright pissed once Whitney passed the fifteen-minute mark. She was rolling around the floor like a kid being told the Tooth Fairy didn’t exist.

She probably still believes in her, Lyra thought. Gosh, I cried less than this when Mama would whip my ass.

Enough was enough. Lyra dug into her handbag, searching for something.

Then she found it: a camcorder gifted to her just before she set off on adventure. She flipped it open, pointed it at Whitney and pressed the record button.

For one minute she filmed Whitney banging her hands on the floor and screeching like an Aipom whose banana was stolen.

“You’re just a kid!” she screamed, tears still going down her face. “Why couldn’t you just let me win? Why? Do you just like crushing people’s dreams, you dummy?”

“Nope,” Lyra replied. “You’re just a Snorlax standing in the way of mine.”

“Now you’re calling me fat?” Whitney looked up at Lyra. “I’ve barely put on…”

Her eyes widened in horror as she spotted the silver camcorder, paired with Lyra’s cheeky grin. Lyra motioned for her to continue the show, showcasing just how childish this adult gym leader could act.

“Turn that thing off!” Whitney shrieked.

“You got it.” Lyra hit the button. “It’s all burnt into the tape anyway, so just you wait ‘til I get this little baby to every TV station. If it’s big enough, it might even leave Johto.”

“You’re a liar!” Whitney lunged for the camcorder, only to be pushed back to the ground by a single finger from Lyra. “There’s no way you’re serious about this.”

“Maybe TV’s a stretch. Though you yapped a lot, and have I ever mentioned how Goldenrod’s got a pretty Radio Tower?”

Whitney went pale.

“And considering I knocked you on your butt with a single finger, you don’t have a chance in hell of stopping me.”

“Oh, please no, Lyra! You can’t do this! I’m gonna get fired.”

“I know! Maybe I’ll get my Plain Badge and a tougher fight next time around.” Lyra tucked the camcorder away. “You’re pathetic. Them other gym leaders I beat commended me and wished me luck. But here you are, bitching and moaning.”

“I’m not pathetic! I’ll do anything for you!” She clasped her hands together. “Just tell me what it is, and I’ll do it.”

Lyra smirked. “Anything, huh?”

Whitney nodded so fast that her head could’ve flown off.

“Then dry your eyes and listen close.” Lyra popped her heels out of her red shoes. “Y’know, it’s about six right now, ain’t it? Which means I’ve been walking and pedalling around Johto for nearly eleven hours.”

She finally stepped out of her shoes. Whitney looked confused as Lyra rubbed her white, knee-high socks, each striped black at the top. She then stretched both her legs before giving Whitney a devilish look.

“You’re gonna treat me real nice.”

“Eh?”

“You’re gonna lick my feet and more. And I’m including these socks, ‘cause they are… Nah, it’s better you find out for yourself just how special they are.”

Lyra dashed to a pink chair, plopping down. Then she placed her feet onto another chair, boldly presenting the bottoms of them to Whitney.

Whitney hesitated. Was she really going to go through with this?

If it means continuing to be a gym leader, then yes.

But her gag reflex trigged upon seeing just how dark the bottoms of Lyra’s socks had become. So much dirt and grime stubbornly clung to the material, with the texture still shining through the blackness.

“I’m not gonna die, right?” she asked.

“You seen how weak you are?” Lyra pulled out a bag of chips. “If you gonna die, at least go out in a wonderful way.”

Like that’s supposed to calm me! Blessing herself, Whitney brought her nose near the socks.

Immediately she was hit with a wave of sweat. These socks smelt as if they hadn’t been washed in months. It reminded her of her own smelly socks, except these were making her heart race. Saying they reeked of vinegar would have been far too nice. They reeked of old cheese that had been left in a landfill for aeons. When Whitney took a deeper sniff, she began to cough.

“Oh, come on,” Lyra chuckled. “You’re breathing in sock fuzz, not asbestos.”

“They smell so bad!”

“If you start that crying nonsense again, I’m getting up.” She curled her toes, trapping Whitney’s nose. “After walking through field after field, town after town, even outrunning a dang crop harvester ‘cause they was mad I was on their property, my socks done earned their stink.”

As much as Whitney wanted to sob, the danger from the camcorder footage being broadcast over local radio loomed over her. So she bucked up the best she could and began to lick the socks.

“Yuck! It tastes more bitter than it smells,” she whined, with her face contorting in disgust.

Lyra snickered. “Wouldn’t you like to know why.”

After twenty seconds of endless licking, Whitney paused. She felt something strange on her tongue—something fuzzy. When she stuck it out, she grimaced as she plucked off a stray hair. If this wasn’t the ultimate humiliation, she didn’t know what was. Being on her knees, licking the filthy socks of a Pokémon trainer—someone who was a peasant compared to her—was such a blow to her pride.

Lyra finally stopped her once ten minutes passed, noting just how dry Whitney’s tongue had to be.

“I’ll give you a sec to wet up your tongue. You’re gonna need it.”

But they’re just feet! As gross as they are, the socks are the hardest part, without question. I’m gonna be spitting all kinds of fuzz out for the rest of the day, Whitney wanted to scream so badly.

When she was ready, she peeled off Lyra’s socks.

The second she saw half of her left foot, a bloodcurdling scream escaped her.

Lyra’s feet were covered in a mild layer of dust. Dark patches clung to her heels and the balls, little bits of grey filled the spaces between her toes, and it oddly didn’t even stick to the form of her foot. There was dirt spread along her instep, when it should have been clean.

“Surprise!” Lyra fanned her toes out. “Yeah, I went barefoot a few times today. Gotta let these dogs breathe, y’know. Kinda spreads the dirt all over my feet, but them’s the breaks.”

This extra earthy touch to Lyra’s aroma didn’t improve things much. The smell was still overbearing to Whitney’s nostrils. And now that it was established Lyra had been barefooting, it meant her feet had ten times the germs than if they’d been snug in her socks. It was as if Lyra had come to that gym for the express purpose of giving Whitney a hard time.

“Can’t you wash them before I lick them?” she peeped.

“Let’s kill two birds with one stone.”

Once Lyra said that, there was no escape for Whitney. Her resistance was dying a slow death. With an overly dramatic sigh, she brought her face closer to Lyra’s feet.

“Yeah,” Lyra cooed. “You gonna be exfoliating my feet with them teeth of yours, too. Get ‘em all nice and soft.”

“So you’ve got calluses…” Whitney’s voice was flat. “Whoopie.”

“They’re more useful than they are a burden. Means I can traverse all sorts of terrain without worrying that my feet are gonna hurt.”

Hmph. Try finding a boyfriend who wants a girl with calluses. You won’t get far.

Whitney began with the soles, slowly licking the hardened skin. As she suspected, the flavour was grosser here than with the socks. Moreover the texture baffled her.

The closer she got the middle of the foot—right near the ball—the grainer the texture got. But the further she got from the middle, the softer it became. Perhaps from being spread due to Lyra’s socks, but it made for a bizarre sensation.

“Don’t I got pretty feet, Whitney?”

“Yeah, if you consider calluses and untrimmed toenails to be the peak of—” Whitney squealed, feeling Lyra’s toes pinch her so hard she was red. “Oh, your feet are so pretty, Lyra! They’re so cute, I could just bury my whole face into them.”

And so she did, taking a deep sniff of the sole, not caring what dirt particles she sucked up.

“Finally getting some common sense.” Lyra whipped out a chocolate bar from her bag. “Now give my toes a good licking like this.”

Whitney licked the toes, sliding her slick tongue between each and every one. As she felt the light dust cling to it, she whimpered. It made her cringe whenever she had to hear her own slobber, especially when Lyra would scrunch her toes to intensify the noise. After gulping down a layer of dirt, Whitney sucked on the smallest toe before taking a huge sniff of the sole again.

And it was from there that the pattern emerged: she’d work on the sole, go to the toes, then give the sole further treatment. It worked for Lyra, for it left no part of her feet unappreciated.

She wiggled her toes, smearing the lesser grime across Whitney’s face.

“Did I get some on your chin? Shucks, my bad,” she chuckled. “I mean, my feet done walked in grass, soil, beaches, cobblestone—literally every piece of earthology or whatever you call land types.”

As Whitney’s used her teeth to graze Lyra’s feet, she began to go green in the face. It felt like she was eating gunk off a super dirty plate.

“Heh… That feels good…” Lyra moaned. “You do have quite the big mouth, I’ll say.”

She tested this by shoving her right foot down Whitney’s throat. All toes came rocketing in at full steam, with Lyra using her left foot to trap Whitney’s head. Whitney’s throat visibly convulsed as she twitched. The fact that Lyra curled her toes in her mouth was making things even harder to stomach. Whitney let out a squeal, unable to draw any more air into her body.

After thirty seconds of suffocating, she was able to expel Lyra’s foot. She wiped some tears as spit dribbled onto the ground.

Now Lyra’s feet looked like the dirt was spread even more, which Whitney didn’t even think was possible. However, they were unquestionably cleaner, now closer to their white skin rather than this greyish cover.

Seeing this, Whitney upped her pace. She zoomed from Lyra’s dry heels to her callused toes until she could breathe no more. It felt like an eternity, but she hit the floor with a thud, panting.

Lyra stuck her big toes up, curling the others down. It was as if she was giving Whitney two thumbs up.

“Sweet mama… They gotta start doing this regularly at the spas.”

“So that’s it? You’ll delete the footage?”

“One more tiny thing.”

“What?” Whitney hopped to her feet. “I just cleaned your dirty feet like you wanted.”

“I recall saying that you were gonna lick my feet and more. You thought I was only talking about the socks?”

Lyra got out of the chair and undid her overalls. As soon as they hit the floor, she took off her black panties. Whitney covered her mouth when Lyra turned around, revealing her rump.

“You’ll have to clean out my back door,” she sang, swaying her hips.

“This girl is trying to kill me,” Whitney muttered to herself.

“I heard that. Look, it’s just a little ass-licking. Not like my thing’s got anything more than sweat. I think.” Lyra slapped her sparkling cheeks so hard that they jiggled like gelatine. “In either case, you can start by kissing.”

Shuddering, Whitney pursed her lips and got closer to Lyra’s butt. Once she felt it against her mouth, she had to fight hard to not continue crying.

“You can act all disgusted, but lemme tell you: I’ve popped many boners by just sitting on boys’ laps,” Lyra said. “Though maybe it’s just the force at which I do it that drives ‘em crazy. For example…”

With a bombastic jump, Lyra plopped her bubble butt right onto Whitney’s face. It immediately engulfed her mouth, and Whitney was overwhelmed by the smell. There was no question how sweaty Lyra was from her eleven hours through Johto, and the longer Whitney had to endure it, the more painful this would be.

Lyra’s plump cheeks jiggled with each slurp. “Yeah, eat that ass, girl…”

Whitney ran her tongue along the salty crack. When she took her first proper gulp, she sighed. Her tongue travelled deeper between the cheeks, exploring every nook and cranny of Lyra’s seemingly infinite ass.

She could feel Lyra’s muscles clenching and releasing. Was that good?

While under the prison that was Lyra’s booty, Whitney began to regret everything that led up to this point. If only she hadn’t thrown a tantrum… If only she had given Lyra the badge that she rightly earned… If she had acted like the adult she was, none of this would have happened.

Aw, I can’t even blame it on her! I put myself in this!

Suddenly Lyra felt even more intense licking. Her eyes widened as Whitney’s tongue swirled around so deep in her asshole that she could feel her lips against the hole.

“Whoa! Now this is some good cleaning…”

Whitney went all out, sucking and licking Lyra’s butt until she couldn’t taste a hint of saltiness. All she could taste was her own saliva. She had lost track of time so much that she couldn’t tell if she been there for five minutes or twenty. By the time Lyra got up, Whitney could barely move.

Lyra put her hands on her hips. “Looks like you’re at the end of your ropes.”

Whitney slowly shut her eyes. “Did I do good?”

“You put more effort into that than having a tough battle.” Lyra spun around, redressing and grabbing her bag.

“Wait!” Whitney hopped to her feet, wincing in pain. “You’re going to delete it now, right? All that footage.”

“Hmm…”

After all that I did, don’t leave me in suspense like this!

“Sure.” Lyra shrugged. “I’m more than satisfied with how much I’ve humiliated you. Now hopefully no other gym leader pulls the same baby nonsense you did. Speaking of…”

She stuck her hand out again. Whitney gasped, running to grab a Plain Badge and a TM. At last, Lyra properly completed her third gym. Five more to go.

“About time,” she sighed, not giving Whitney another look. “See you when I become the new boss of the League.”

“I’ll get better.”

Lyra looked back. “Really now? Sucking my toes and kissing my ass suddenly turned you into a grown woman?”

Whitney folded her arms. “Nobody’s ever said all that stuff to my face before. They just take the badge after I’m done crying. Do people really see me as an idiot?”

“If that’s how you act whenever you lose, then yeah.”

“Then that’s gonna change, because nobody’s gonna be coming into Whitney’s gym and coming out thinking she’s nothing but a sore loser!”

Lyra smirked. “We’ll see.”

As Lyra disappeared, Whitney had already started planning how she was going to gain a grip on her emotions. It was going to be hard, but nothing stood in her way. She went to leave the arena, only to pause in her tracks.

“Oh, I should’ve warned her about Claire.”