Bulbasaur's Pokédex Entry (Black 2/White 2): For some time after its birth, it grows by gaining nourishment from the seed on its back.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Where did this even come from? Yeah, I do "darker" Pokémon stuff. Uh, review and favorite, because that would help me a lot. Thanks!
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Bulbasaur couldn't grow. Three—no, four years, and he hadn't even began to grow. His body grew a bit larger every once in a while, but his supposedly-sturdy body was, in actuality, weak and frail. He was half plant, he needed sunlight to grow, that was the issue, you see.
Snowpoint City, Sinnoh, as you may know, is not the sunniest or warmest place. The harsh snowstorms and ice-types were certainly not the most nurturing things on Earth for a grass-type like himself. But Bulbasaur's Master refused to move away from her home, and Bulbasaur could accept that.
The seed on Bulbasaur's back was not as big as it should have been, nor healthy as it needed to be. Bulbasaur constantly felt sick, and weak. He hated to move—and Master thought he was lazy—because of the pain that was always there. It wasn't hard to avoid, but it was kind of annoying, the dull ache he felt throughout his body every second of every passing day. Bulbasaur always felt weak, and Master thought he was weak because he didn't like to fight. That was a lie,
Bulbasaur would die for Master. Bulbasaur was dying for Master. But Bulbasaur didn't mind, or that's what he told Master. Glaceon had once told Bulbasaur to never upset Master with his own problems, because that would make Master sad; Pokémon were not allowed to make their masters sad. Though, how can a Pokémon that's barely breathing make their master happy, when they, themselves are not happy?
Bulbasaur didn't like to do much. He sat on the couch, staring out the window and talking to Aipom occasionally—Aipom was the only one who listened to Bulbasaur's issues—while waiting for Master to return home. Sometimes Master didn't return 'til late at night, smelling of cigarettes and sometimes she even brought home strange men. Bulbasaur could hear the men leave early in the morning, before Master woke up. Was that what humans did? Pokémon never left their mate—ever. It also seemed that Master had more than one mate, in fact, she brought home a different mate every night!
Master wasn't all bad, though. She was young, only twenty-three, or that's what Stoutland said—Stoutland had been with Master since she was ten, so Stoutland would know—and she was real pretty, with long blonde hair and emerald eyes. She fed Bulbasaur every day, not that he needed it, and sometimes she gave him attention.
One night Master seemed to notice something was wrong with Bulbasaur, so she put him in a crate—like a filthy Purrloin, he'd thought bitterly—and took him to a large, white building with a shiny red roof. Nice ladies in pink and a Chansey ran him through some tests, and then the lady (Nurse Joy, was it. . .?) told Master some things Bulbasaur couldn't understand.
Master cried the whole drive home. A wet substance ran down her cheeks, falling from her red-rimmed eyes. Bulbasaur was confused, but he got the sense something was wrong.
Master said some things to Bulbasaur, and he couldn't make out much of it, but a week later the climate had drastically changed. Bulbasaur was allowed outside finally. He felt stronger after only an hour of basking in the sun like an old Arcanine. Master told Bulbasaur he would never evolve, but that he could get better, or that's what Bulbasaur thought.
And even though he would never make it to his final stage, he didn't really care. Because once he got healthier, Master did, too. She started to smell like strawberries instead of smoke, and she found a new mate, one that stuck around.