((first story is something simple to start. it's safe, willing, nonfatal vore with a salamence pred, and human trainer prey. the trainer is trans, and there's a brief, vague implication of sexual themes. if you're a trans man with especially bad bottom dysphoria, i'd recommend skipping this completely. as a trans man myself, i will understand. your comfort is more important than a comment or a like.))
Myles wasn't a stranger to his loyal Salamence's bold behavior. The dragon, who he had named Mercer, had the cutest little habit of biting him on the head when he didn't get what he wanted.
Not roughly, mind you. It was more of a glorified glomph, Merc didn't dare harm a hair on Myles's head.
Myles, despite the thorough rinsing he always needed after having his blonde-haired head suckled on like a lollipop, didn't resent his Salamence. His father, a professor he never knew, supposedly always said that every Pokémon showed their love a little differently. Learning to love that Pokémon back despite their weirdness was a big, big part of being a trainer. His mother said it was a good tip for parenting, too, but Myles didn't plan on having kids anytime soon.
The beaches in Alola never had many people on them after dark, which was perfect for Myles. Being a trans guy, he tended not to be keen on showing off his body. During the day, he was able to pass fairly well with his baggy pants and waist-tied hoodie. In a swimming binder and trunks, though, he was a bit more visibly... lithe.
Swimming was his favorite form of exercise, though, so he of course would do whatever he could to get in the water.
The young man checked the waterproof watch-slash-mini-pokédex he inherited from his dad, noticing the moon in the crystal clear sky was further than halfway to the other horizon. The comfortably cool ocean waves lapped at his waist as he tapped the side of the module to light up the interface.
1:23 AM.
Shoot, I should get back to my room! Does the lobby close? Aw, shoot, what if they don't let me in?
A mind reader might infer that he didn't often stay out this late, or even stay in hotels more than a few days at a time.
He lifted his feet from the soft, underwater sand they'd slowly sunken into, and began trudging as best he could back to the beach, where his Salamence was waiting.
Mercer had other things on his mind. Things he seldom got to share, especially with his partner.
It's a very real shame Pokémon tended to have such limited vocabularies. They have the intelligence for in depth conversation, but not the right voice.
The Salamence's primary concern at the moment was his language barrier.
Myles ran up to his partner, kicking up pale yellow sand behind him. Mercer lowered his head for his trainer to caress, still lying on the sand with his claws crossed politely in front of him.
"Hey bud, I bet you're tired, huh?" Myles said, rubbing under Mercer's red chin, "Sorry, it's so easy to lose track of time out in the water..."
"Sal... sal'mance," The dragon replied, nodding as if he understood
I get it. I do the same thing while flying.
He couldn't help but stare at the beads of saltwater on Myles's shoulders, illuminated by the moonlight casting over the beach.
Mercer whined lowly, so lowly that even a Wurmple would pity him.
"What's the matter? Are you too tired to walk back to the hotel?" Myles asked, reaching for the arm brace he kept his pokéballs latched on, "I know you don't like your ball, but it's more comfortable than being on your feet."
Mercer pushed his trainer's hand away with his nose.
"Sal, al."
No, no.
"Well what do you want, Merc? Use your words."
Myles smirked at his own wit.
The salamence growled lightly and reared up his head, opening his jaws as if to roar.
He didn't roar.
Down came his jaws, clamping down loosely over the head of the young man before him. His thick, gooey tongue pressed hard into Myles's face, and the trainer turned his head to prevent getting a mouthful of saliva.
Myles wasn't frightened—in fact, the advancement made him laugh.
"Okay, okay, I get it," He chuckled out, "You're moody!"
He raised his hands to pat the cheeks of his companion, who murred affectionately and nibbled lightly with his teeth.
The trainer moved his hands a bit lower until they rested on the Salamence's lips, and pushed up gently to free his head.
Salamence parted his jaws and let Myles take his head out.
"Salar... sal-saramence..."
You're gonna think I'm crazy, Myles.
"What's up?"
Myles might not have actually understood, but the way he spoke to Pokémon made them feel like he did.
"Sal-sala."
I don't think you're gonna like it.
"Listen, Merc," Myles huffed, cocking his head and putting a hand on his hip, "You're gonna have to be a little more forward with me if this is gonna work out for you."
"Salman-cer..."
If you say so.
The dragon pushed the flat top of his head into the chest of his trainer, knocking the wind out of his lungs, and throwing him off balance. Myles's arms waved wildly in circles as he tried to save himself from falling, but he failed miserably, and fell flat on his back on the sandy ground below.
Before he could pick himself up, Mercer stepped forward until his broad chest hovered over his trainers legs, then lowered most of his weight onto the young man's body, trapping him beneath his mass.
Myles's face flushed red as his partner easily overpowered him, holding him down against the sand with over 300 pounds of pressure. He could tell Mercer was holding back, though, judging how the dragons knees were bent to prop himself up slightly.
He'd known Mercer since he was just a little Bagon. Myles knew he was safe, which made the whole ordeal just that much more exhilarating.
"H-hey, what are you doing, Merc?" Myles stuttered, totally flustered as he watched the dragon's glowing red eyes scan over his form.
Despite his usual self consciousness over swim wear, the trainer knew that Pokémon didn't care much about gender or what it entailed, so he found comfort in the fact that Merc was probably more adored with him than he was judgemental.
"Salarrrr... marancer..." the dragon cooed, smiling with his eyes as he lowered his nose to meet his trainer's.
Oh, Myles... you know I love you...
Myles rubbed over the Salamence's cheeks with a skeptical, but optimistic look on his face.
What is he doing... I've never seen a Pokémon act like this before... it's times like this I wish I spoke their language. At least he can answer yes and no questions!
"So, what's the plan here? Are we staying like this all night?"
Mercer shook his head no.
"Are you going to get off of me, then?"
He shook his head no once more.
"Well then where am I supposed to go, Merc!" Myles whined, feigning discomfort, "How are we gonna leave if you won't get off of me?"
His question was answered with a billowing wave of hot breath falling down over his face, as his loyal companion opened his maw wider than he'd ever seen. The dragon's long, pink tongue hung out, grazing the trainer's chin with clear slime as he gazed past the pokémon's teeth, and down into his gaping throat.
He instantly took the hint, his cheeks almost as red as cheri berries by now.
"You... you want t-to swallow me? Like, all the way? All the way DOWN and into your belly? F-for real?"
Mouth still hanging open, Mercer's throat vibrated visibly as he let out another low whine.
He'd never make Myles do anything he wasn't comfortable with... but from the looks of things, this might end in his favor.
"Oh, Merc... I dunno, bud..."
The Salamence whined again, and closed his jaws partly as he lifted his head back upwards.
Myles rested a hand on Mercer's knee, eyebrows twisted in a pitiful expression.
"OK. I'll tell you what. I'm okay with it. Ho-"
He was interrupted by an excited, sloppy lick on the face.
"H-HEY, HEY, HEY!" The trainer stammered, "I WASN'T FINISHED! PAUSE YOUR PONYTAS!"
Mercer bowed his head and muttered in apology. Myles huffed quietly, but continued without another word about it.
"Like I was saying, I'm okay with it. HOWEVER, I reserve the right to back out at any time! I trust you, Mercer. I know you won't hurt me," Myles said, the corners of his mouth lifting into a slight smile.
"SALAR-MANCE-MANCE-MANCE!" Mercer exclaimed, hopping up and down off the ground with his front feet.
YES! I WON'T LET YOU DOWN, MYLES!
Laughing, the trainer scooched out from under the excited dragon Pokémon until he had enough room to stand. When he did, though, he made an uncomfortable discovery.
All the water on his back had adhered a ton of sand against his skin. He was like a sugared donut, except the sugar tasted like dirt. He turned around to try and look at how bad it was, and the salamence grimaced at the sight of the gritty mess that was his trainer's back.
"Yeah... I'm gonna rinse off," Miles said, scratching the back of his neck, "You can follow me to the water, if you want, Merc!"
As his trainer walked off through the sand, Mercer followed promptly, but slow enough that he didn't seem over-eager.
I have to act my level... I am almost level 70, now...
The Salamence watched with visible interest as his trainer dipped into the cool water, lifting handfuls to pour over his back and shoulders. He couldn't understand why Myles hid himself like he did, under all those layers. Especially in Alola, the sunniest, warmest region they'd ever been to.
He licked his lips without realizing as he saw Myles wave him over, close enough to the shore that he was only shin-deep in the ocean.
He nuzzled the young man's neck with his nose, his tongue peeking out of his lips slightly to taste his skin once more. Tickled, Myles blushed and gently nudged Mercer's head away, more bashful than he was annoyed.
"You're acting so deprived, Merc..." Myles murmured, "Have you really been this interested all along?"
The Salamence tipped his head to the side and back again, like he was saying maybe or so-so.
"You're lucky you're so cute. You're lucky to have me, you know—no one is as crazy as I am! Haha!"
He puffed out his chest and put his hands on his hips like he was proud to be this stupid. And, well, maybe he was. He'd never tell.
The trainer glanced around one last time, peeking from side to side, and behind his Pokémon.
"Okay, Merc! I'm ready as I'll ever be!"
He pulled the dragon's head down by the horns and kissed him right on the nose.
"I hope I don't taste like an expired malsada! Ha!"
Mercer smiled in a goofy way that showed off all his teeth, trying way too hard to mimic a human smile. Then his long, fleshy tongue slipped out of his mouth and licked the trainer all the way from his bellybutton, up his chest, and around his neck.
Myles giggled wildly. He was squirming a little, but in an impatient, flustered, excited way.
"Don't tease so much, you sly Seviper! Let's just do this thing!"
"Salar... sal-amance!"
Well... if you say so!
The dragon nudged Myles's hands until one was raised, and the young man took the hint, raising the other to hold up in front of Mercer's face.
Slowly. Mercer parted his lips, and forward came his spongy pink tongue to suckle his trainer's fingers, and then carefully pull them into his mouth.
He wasted no time getting to work on his partner's arms, slurping them up like soft, freshly boiled noodles, rich with the flavor of lightly salted broth.
Before he knew it, Myles's face was pressed flush against the dragon's lips, with his hands already being pulled lightly by the rippling muscles of his pokémon's powerful throat.
"O-oh my," Myles stuttered, his cheeks cheri berri red again, "This is so odd... but I can't lie, it's not unpleasant."
Not yet, anyways... haha...
Mercer growled with pleasure as he opened his jaws to accept Myles's head, the trainer's face being thoroughly prodded and soaked by the hot, fleshy muscle of his tongue.
He tasted unlike any Pokémon food the Salamence had ever eaten. He was warm, and savory, and the saltwater on his skin left a slightly sweet aftertaste on the dragon's tongue as he licked all over, anywhere he could manage.
As the trainer's upper arms sunk into his partner's pulsating throat, and his head followed in suit, he felt the Salamences jaws stretch easily over his shoulders, and his tongue start lapping at his collarbone.
He understood now why Mercer wanted him hands first—with his arms already up, he wouldn't have to deal with the ninety degree angle of head and neck to shoulders.
He really thought this out, huh? Clever 'mon.
Mercer lathered his saliva over his trainer's flat chest with increased vigor, just as a matter of helping him slide down his gullet easier. In his throat, he felt the young man's fingers clutch against the walls, and for a moment thought that Myles was ready to back out. However, these thoughts were quelled when the clutching turned to slow, gentle rubbing, and the dragon's throat shuddered as he let out a loud, audible purr of delight.
Mercer continued on with his willing meal, and slowed his swallowing as he reached the next reachable patch of exposed skin on Myles's body: his stomach.
Myles giggled and squirmed in the Pokémon's long neck as he felt his partner's tongue tickle at his sensitive belly, even probing its tip against his navel to gather as much wonderful human flavor as possible.
By now, his hands were close to approaching the entrance to Mercer's waiting gut, and the further he descended into the dragon's body, the louder his insides were. He couldn't help but get the chills as he heard the stomach he'd soon be filling growled so deeply he could actually feel it's churning already.
He could hear the Salamence's breathing now, too. It seemed steady, and calm. That calmness enwrapped Myles like a warm cotton blanket, fresh out of the dryer.
I could get used to this sort of thing... I wonder how many other Pokémon are capable of such a feat?
Mercer felt his tongue reach the brim of Myle's trunks, and he lingered for a moment, savouring the last of the trainer's supple skin til he reached his legs.
And then he pushed onwards.
It was coming to a point where Mercer would be able to lift his head skywards, and let gravity do the work. But, not quite completely. He'd have to pass Myles's hips first.
As he lowered his head further, his jaws passed easily onto the narrow hips of his trainer.
To aid his swallowing, he pressed his tongue into the space between Myles's legs, to push him deeper in without having to force his legs against the ground too much. As he did, though, a quiet gasp and a squirm escaped his dinner, causing the trainer to twist his legs together like he was trying to tie a knot with his knees. He kicked his feet slightly, and again, Mercer wondered if he'd done something wrong, but hands in his upper belly began to rub affectionately once more, so he continued to eat, hoping his trainer wasn't upset with him.
Myles could feel his hands begin to touch along the bottom of Mercer's stomach, and he curled up his fingers slightly when he realized there was a shallow pool of hot fluid bubbling in his Pokémon's gut. It was only hot, though, not burning. If it was acidic he'd know right away, at least from his experience with misbehaving Poison types. That stuff tended to burn as soon as it touched your skin.
So, he relaxed, even as he felt himself be turned completely upside-down and his descent accelerate.
The hum of delight the Salamence produced as he gulped down his trainer's slightly furry legs was almost human. It was an unmistakable, resounding "Mmmmmm..."
He paused once he reached Myles's ankles, realizing it was almost over.
I hope we can do this again... he seems like he's liked it so far, I think...
With a quick last lap of the tongue, he jerked his head back, and closed his mouth around the last of his trainer's body.
The rest of Myles's descent was smooooth sailing. He comfortably slid down the dragon's gullet, through his chest, and settled into his waiting belly.
The gurgling and other bodily sounds were unignorable now. The fluid at the bottom of Mercer's gut enveloped the trainer's hands and lower body, bubbling like a potion in a cauldron might, every bubble bloating up and popping wetly against Myle's body. He heard his Pokémon's heart, too, as well as his breathing—both were still steady, and smooth.
Thump, thump. Thump, thump.
Huff in, and out. In and out.
The stomach shifted back and forth slightly, causing Myles to wonder if Mercer had started walking away. It was at that point he realized he could talk again, too.
"Where are we going, bud? You got any big plans?" Myles inquired, settling his head against the ribbed, fleshy stomach walls. It was gooey, but strangely comfortable—he felt like a Wurmple curled up in its cocoon.
"Sal-ar. Armance. Arsalar, mance."
I'm headed to the nearest treeline. I don't want anyone to see a lone Salamence, and get suspicious.
Myles didn't really get it, but again, he always replied as if he did.
"Good plan, Merc. I can always count on you for a good plan! Haha!"
As the trainer laughed, he jostled just a bit more than the dragon's stomach could take, and a half-burp, half-roar erupted from the Pokèmon's maw.
Both Myles and Mercer blushed deeply, embarrassed by their part in that reaction.
Mercer found an outcropping of grass beneath a pair of tall berry trees.
Those could make for good breakfast in the morning. Seems like a sound place to settle down for the night.
As the Salamance laid down in the grass, he propped himself on his side slightly, so that Myles wouldn't be completely crushed by his weight all night.
The trainer used that as an opportunity to make a few requests before the dragon dozed off.
"Hey, make sure you don't sleep too long! I'm not supposed to wear this binder for longer than eight hours!"
He checked the time on his waterproof watch again, and saw that it was now almost 3 AM. Thinking ahead, he set an alarm for 7 AM, which would give him enough time to wake Mercer up and get home to change.
"Salmance."
Got it.
"Oh," Myles added, "And another thing! We need to teach you some better... etiquette. You gotta he careful where you're sticking your tongue, bud. Humans have different boundaries than 'mons do, okay?"
Mercer bowed his head slightly, realizing he knew what he did wrong.
"Sal, ar. Salamence..."
Sorry, Myles. Won't happen again.
Myles pat the stomach wall lightly, able to tell through the Pokémon's tone that he was genuinely apologetic.
"It's okay, bud. I'm okay! I'm strangely comfortable, too, actually. This weird stomach juice isn't so bad. I'll have to do some research on Pokémon digestion tomorrow... hmm..."
Myles yawned widely, and adjusted himself onto his side as his green eyes narrowed to closure.
Mercer rested his head down on the grass, his neck curved so he could keep an eye on his plated underbelly.
He waited a few long minutes before speaking up quietly, to see if his trainer was still awake.
Once he got no response, he closed his eyes slowly, and drifted off soon, himself.