Beginner's Luck
~ Disclaimers: I do NOT own Pokémon or anything associated with it.
~ Warnings: Inappropriate use of Pokémon items, graphic smut, humiliation, noncon/coercion, masturbation, voyeurism and overripe abuse of lame Pokémon puns.
~ Edit: Fixed minor spelling mistakes, updated with clearer warnings/labels.
Brendan sighed to himself as he entered Route 102, just outside of Petalburg City.
He had been preparing in Sootopolis to travel East to Ever Grande City where he would only be a fleeting wind's breeze away from his dream of becoming Hoenn's new Champion. There, he would finally take on the Elite Four. It was his last destination and the culmination of his year long journey; the end of a long, winding and wondrous road of training, travels, people, Pokémon and precious memories.
But first, he had returned all the way here first after receiving a call on his PokéNav from a trainer he had previously battled a few times requesting a rematch whenever he was available and was thus presently pushing through a patch of tall grass, searching for said trainer. As he came to the edge of a spacious clearing…
"!"
Turning about at the exclamative shout, Brendan caught sight of the person who had called him out here to re-challenge him approaching: a younger, fresh-faced trainer simply dressed in a t-shirt and shorts with a backwards-turned baseball cap. Brendan grimaced at the youth's outdated fashion sense in headwear although he supposed that something like that was probably what passed for cool for kids about his age.
"Hey Brendan, long time no see! It's me, Youngster. Don't tell me you've forgotten me already?"
"No, I remember you," Brendan acknowledged, his face relaxing into a soft smile. "It's good to see you're as lively as usual."
If he were to be honest with himself, Brendan had not really wanted to come here at all in the first place. Youngster was constantly calling him at least once a week to insist on a rematch after their first battle had resulted in his resounding defeat, but their next round had only resulted in yet another loss followed by another two after that, totaling up to four consecutive defeats so far. Youngster seemed to only become more and more determined with each loss.
Brendan was growing tired of having to go out of his way to traverse all the way out here for these pointlessly one-sided matches and resolved that this fifth time would be the last rematch that he would allow him and from now on after this, he would ignore Youngster's calls to focus his attention solely on training for the upcoming Elite Four.
"Heh. So what, is this our fourth or fifth match? I've kind of lost track of how many times you've beaten me," Youngster laughed, a little awkwardly.
"Fifth," Brendan answered wearily but still smiling warmly all the same to lessen the younger trainer's embarrassment.
"Psht. You sure have a way with beginner's luck, I tell ya," Youngster accused. "That's the only reason you've beaten me so far. I saw that interview you did with that reporter on TV after you smashed the Sootopolis City Gym Leader. Does that mean you're going up against the Elite Four next?"
Brendan nodded and Youngster made an offhand, unimpressed noise while adjusting the peak of his cap unnecessarily to feign smoothness.
"Hmph. The Elite Four are the best trainers in the region. You better have something more than dumb luck up your sleeve if you don't wanna get mashed into a Pokéblock. Well, anyway…I guess I'll become the new Champion when I beat you if you do somehow pull a Jirachi and get through them all somehow, haha…"
Brendan couldn't help but chuckle too at the notion of this kid defeating him after their slew of overwhelmingly decisive battles, but recovered with enough grace to lightly say, "Yeah, I guess so!"
"See, I've been training really hard this time around," Youngster said, earnestly. "So I'm pretty sure I can beat you this time!"
"You think you can pull it off?" Brendan teased him good-naturedly, bending down so that he was eye-level with Youngster and lifting the shorter trainer's cap to tousle his hair in a brotherly fashion. "Even though you've lost every match so far?"
"But it's different this time," Youngster insisted stubbornly. "I'm actually a lot stronger now!"
"Of course you are," Brendan kindly agreed to spare the kid's feelings. "You get stronger and stronger each time we meet. But to make it a bit fairer, you can use as many Pokémon as you want but I'll only use one."
He glanced around, scanning their peaceful, wooded surroundings and the lush, emerald grass thickly carpeting the massive glade they stood in. There was even a row of bushes nearby laden with ripening Oran and Sitrus berries.
Normally, there would be other trainers on this route enjoying the serene landscape or otherwise looking to battle and socialize, but since it was so early in the morning, the area was deserted and empty. There weren't even signs of any wild Pokémon lurking nearby.
"This place seems big enough for a fight," Brendan concluded aloud, while thinking to himself that the faster he got this over with, the sooner he could get out of here and back on his way to Ever Grande. "You ready?"
Youngster nodded eagerly and they both stepped back from each other to permit more space between them.
The competing trainers drew and pitched their respective Poké Balls with identical motions, globes spinning in a blur of red and white as they rose high against the beaming morning sun.
"Come out, Swellow!" Youngster shouted.
"Let's go, Salamence!" Brendan called, the thrill of battle already coursing through him accompanied with an excitement that was familiar but never repetitious. He didn't waste a second in making the opening move. "Use Dragon Claw!"
Before Youngster could even react, Brendan's Salamence struck the hovering Swellow with a devastating swipe that sent it spiraling into the ground painfully.
"Oh man, not agaaaaaaain!" Youngster whined, flinging his head back and clutching it with both hands in a show of exaggerated distress. He reluctantly returned the broken bird to its Poké Ball. "Alright, then. Linoone, you're up next!"
A second Dragon Claw later, Linoone too lay sprawled at Youngster's feet, its eyes glassy and unfocused and blabbering incoherently.
"Okay…not good," Youngster groaned.
As he politely waited for Youngster to bring out his next Pokémon Brendan began to seriously question whether these five minute battles were worth the couple of hours it took to travel all the way out here.
"Don't worry. It's okay," Youngster told him. "My last Pokémon is my strongest…Mightyena!"
The Dark-type Pokémon howled intimidatingly as it appeared in a dazzling flash of light.
"Mightyena, use Crunch!"
The agile hyena sprung at Salamence and fastened its jaws around the Dragon-type's neck.
Salamence bellowed out a deafening roar of pain that shook the very trees around them and toppled over, unconscious.
"Wha-?" Brendan looked down at his fallen Pokémon in sheer disbelief. "What just happened?!"
"Ha!" Youngster let out a yell of delight. "Take that! Looks like beginner's luck didn't stack well against actual skill today!"
"No way. No way in Arceus' name–"
"Yes, I win!" Youngster shouted happily, dancing around in joyful celebration.
Brendan's was stunned with shock. He was brought out of his reverie by Youngster sticking out his hands together in front of him.
"Pay up!"
"Wha–?" Brendan was still dazed from the unexpected and unprecedented loss.
"Pay up!" his opponent repeated cheerily. "And it better be a lot!"
"Oh, right," Brendan said, numbly. He pulled out his wallet and opened it to find…nothing.
"Ah, I completely forgot…" he muttered to himself, slapping a hand to his forehead as he suddenly remembered that had forgotten to withdraw some money before coming out here. He cleared his throat and looked down at the bubbling trainer bouncing up and down before him with his hands still outstretched, his grin as wide and smug as a Gengar's.
"I – umm, I don't have any money on me," Brendan confessed.
Youngster stopped mid-bounce, his jubilation evaporating.
"What do you mean you don't have any money?" Youngster asked, now sounding upset.
"I forgot to get some money today," Brendan explained. "Would it be alright if I paid you next time I–"
"NO!"
Brendan was taken aback by Youngster's shrill objection.
"It's alright." Brendan reassured him, trying to smooth things over quickly. "I promise that–"
"No! You can't. You have to pay me right now! That's the law. If you don't, I'm telling on you!"
Brendan sighed, skimming a hand over his green and white knit hat in frustration. If Youngster went and told the Official League Battle Standards and Regulations Commission about this, they would undoubtedly consider it an illegal 'loss and run' and he would be penalized severely for it. He could not risk losing his trainer's license now. Not right after clearing the final gym and when he was on the verge of reaching the Elite Four's doorstep.
"Tell you what," Brendan tried again. "You can come with me back to Petalburg City and I can–"
"No!" Youngster interrupted angrily. "I want my money RIGHT NOW!"
"Well you want to be paid straight away and I don't have any money on me! It's just not happening so why don't you try and come up with something else instead, then!"
Youngster fell silent for a moment, thinking, and then his face lit up.
"I know! If you can't pay up, then you have to play games with me for the next hour and you have to listen to and do everything I say!"
"Games?" Brendan repeated tentatively. He wasn't appealed by the prospect of wasting even more time catering to Youngster's whims by indulging in his child's play for the next hour but faced with the alternate possibility, what choice did he have? If he was lucky, Youngster might even get bored of his games after maybe ten minutes or so in and then let him go.
"Alright, fine," Brendan consented with a resigned sigh. "But one hour only. I have to get to Ever Grande City as soon as I can after this."
"Ha! Yes!" Youngster punched the air. "Alright, Mightyena. Get him!"
"Hey, wait a se–" Brendan started, but the midnight-furred canine Pokémon pounced upon Brendan at once, knocking him to the ground with its front paws, its jaws slavering ominously a few inches from his face.
"First up, I'm going to make sure you're not lying to me about not having any money. Mightyena, search him for any cash that might be on him."
Barking in affirmation, Youngster's Mightyena began tearing at his backpack with powerful, sharp teeth and the contents within spilled out all over the ground: a couple of Max Potions went rolling…his Super Rod clunked heavily…the PokéNav dropped…a spare escape rope uncoiled with a heavy thud…everything tumbled out.
"Huh, I guess you really are broke," Youngster admitted in surprise, as he nudged through the fallen items with the toe of his sneaker, prompting Brendan to pull a sarcastic expression at him from underneath Youngster's Pokémon. "Oh, well. Doesn't really matter anyway. His pockets, Mightyena."
Growling low in its throat, Mightyena attempted to tug its quarry's tracksuit pants with its jaws but unintentionally caught his underwear as well, getting both halfway down and causing Brendan, who had scrambled back to his feet and was trying to escape to lose his balance and trip easily.
"Damn it…" Brendan wheezed. Winded and brought to the ground again with all his lower clothes bunched around his ankles, he realized that everything from his lower back down was visible including his firm and pale apple-cheeked rear which peeked out from beneath his thankfully overlong polo shirt.
As he fought to hoist his pants back up, the Mightyena continued to growl and playfully tug, dragging until they came away from his thrashing legs completely.
"No! Give those back!" Brendan demanded.
Youngster burst out laughing as his Mightyena returned to its trainer's side with Brendan's clothes pinched between its teeth.
Brendan leapt to his feet in anger, stretching the hem of his shirt down to cover his exposure and buckling his knees together so that Youngster would definitely not see anything.
"I'm serious!" Brendan shouted. "It's cold out here. Give them back to me!"
"Lift your shirt up!" Youngster called before placing a hand over his mouth and snorting immaturely, as if he had said something hilariously outrageous.
"What?"
"I dare you to lift your shirt up," Youngster hollered again, his eyes bright with mischievous glee. "If you do it, I'll tell my Mightyena to give you your pants back."
This annoying, little… Brendan thought in angry exasperation. But, he really needed his clothes.
Scowling, Brendan quickly glanced sidewards so he wouldn't have to see Youngster's stupid grinning face as drew his shirt up to his chest, allowing an unimpeded glimpse of his full and uncovered front body.
Youngster erupted into a fresh gale of laughter and doubled over, leaning on his knees for support while Brendan, who was still looking determinedly away, reddened and hastily dropped his shirt again.
"Wow…you weren't kidding when you told me you were from Littleroot Town, were you?" Youngster gasped with mirth.
"It's not like that!" Brendan denied angrily, shaking his head so that the many pointed crests of his hat jostled violently. "It's really, really cold out here! That's why! Now give me my clothes back!"
"I didn't say when I'd give them back," Youngster teased.
"You–" If his Salamence weren't unconscious, Brendan would have happily had it use Dragon Claw to smack the damn twerp into the neighboring region.
Youngster's clapped his hands together and announced, "Alright! We're gonna start playing games now. And the first game we're playing is 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey'. Hmm…But we need to find a decent tail somewhere…"
Youngster's searching eyes wandered back to Brendan's grass-strewn items and crouching low, he poked around through them for a minute.
"This will do, I guess," Youngster eventually decided with a dismissive shrug, plucking Brendan's Super Rod off the ground and offering it to its owner who accepted it blankly.
"But there's no donkey," Brendan said in confusion, prompting Youngster to roll his eyes at his cluelessness.
"What's another word for donkey, Alakazam?"
Realization hit a horror-struck Brendan harder than a herd of rampaging Tauros.
"You can't be serious."
"Hey, you said you would pay me by doing whatever I say," Youngster reminded him.
"Why would you make me do something like this?"
"Easy. One, to teach you what happens when you rely on luck against a pro trainer like me. And two, because I can. If you don't want to, I can always go to the Official League Commission…"
"Alright! Alright, fine…" Brendan groaned, knowing that there was no way Youngster was letting him get out of this.
Relaxing back in the soft grass at the foot of a nearby tree, Brendan lifted the Super Rod up between his raised thighs, angling the ridged, convex handgrip at his plush, white underside and lining it precisely to a path that would lead it directly to his tight entryway.
Already regretting what he was about to do, Brendan carefully eased the bottom of the rod into himself with trembling hands. His breath escaped through his teeth in a tense hiss and his brow furrowed anxiously as the rounded base of the handle breached his rim which he felt give way and widen to uncomfortably swallow the hefty shaft comprising the rest of the handle that followed.
With Youngster's renewed, hysterical laughter ringing in his ears, Brendan grasped the fishing apparatus more tightly by the tapering top of the grip, gingerly shifting the bulk of the curved, rubbery handle back and forth inside himself with his teeth clenched in pain while he did his best to ignore the presence of the stiff Super Rod, but the sensation of its unforgivingly inflexible structure moving rigidly within him made it next to impossible.
"Okay. Now start playing with yourself like you're actually enjoying it," Youngster tittered.
Brendan seethed with silent outrage, praying that Arceus would miraculously descend to squash Youngster here and there. How far did he plan to go in having him make a complete idiot of himself?
"Do I have to?"
"Come on, I haven't got all day. Either you do it or I will," Youngster said in a tone that perked at the concept of getting some hands-on enjoyment from this.
Glowering at Youngster, Brendan lifted his dangling weight of soft, vanilla-toned flesh, letting it loll leisurely in his gloved palm for a moment before his hand closed and began immodestly exerting it with slow movements. He closed his eyes too, which were as deep and luxuriant as a pair of rubies, finding it easier to lose himself in his overtly indecent show without Youngster in his direct sight.
Brendan kneaded himself with gaining rigour until his stomach stirred with a flutter of anticipation and his tube swelled, elongating and strengthening as his hand encouraged it. His fingers slid over the smooth, tightened skin stretched across the terrain of his now emboldened length while his breathing became fast and labored.
Bzzzzzzzzt! Bzzzzzzzzt! Bzzzzzzzzt!
Brendan's eyes flew open at once as he was snapped back to his senses by the sound of his PokéNav buzzing audibly, the mood he had built up instantly ruined.
"Ooh, look. Someone's calling you," Youngster informed him, retrieving the humming communication device from the grass before returning to Brendan. "Maybe you could use the extra help?"
And without warning, Youngster swooped down and pressed the vibrating PokéNav up against Brendan's bare erection, eliciting a startled gasp from the latter.
"Ah! N – No! Don't!"
"What's wrong?" Youngster asked innocently. "Too much for you to handle?"
Bzzzzzzzzt! Bzzzzzzzzt! Bzzzzzzzzt!
The Nav went off again and shuddered tangibly, the undulation transferring directly across to Brendan's body through the cold, vibrating metal kissing his naked cock which visibly flinched at the powerful stimulation.
Bzzzzzzzzt! Bzzzzzzzzt! Bzzzzzzzzt!
"Uh – ah!" Brendan cried, the tension making him grip the Super Rod which was still inappropriately connected into him tighter still as the pure shock spiked through his entire being again leaving the nerves of his jolting cock sensitive and tingling each time.
"Man, look at you. You're wetter than a Water Type," Youngster commented with a smirk, taking his hand away at last and lifting it up to clearly show Brendan his PokéNav, sticky with wet streaks of precum that trickled down the metal shell to seep over Youngster's fingers and wrist which were clutching the stained device.
"Maybe you should answer it now," Youngster suggested, hitting the button to take the call and a second one to put it on speaker.
"Hello? Brendan? Are you there?" a sharp voice blared out, crackling slightly. Brendan recognized it as belonging to Norman, the Petalburg City Gym Leader and also his father.
"D – Dad?"
"What took you so long to answer?"
"I – I'm…" Brendan struggled, wide-eyed and at a loss for words with the Super Rod absurdly jammed between his pale legs which were outspread in a compromising position, terrified that his dad might somehow be able to see or hear what was happening to him through the Nav.
"Anyway," his father interrupted impatiently. "I saw your interview on TV after you won the Rain badge in Sootopolis City last week and I just wanted to call to congratulate you."
"Oh. Right. Um…Thanks," Brendan managed to reply, his hand frozen in place around the rod, too afraid to move even a fraction of an inch.
Catching Brendan's eye, Youngster shook his head and traced a looping motion in the air several times with his finger signaling that he was to keep going. Shooting a glare at him, Brendan began moving the thin tool again, slow and careful so as to cause as little disturbance to himself as possible.
"You're probably training right now to prepare for the Elite Four."
Brendan bit his bottom lip as his hand continued to move back and forth at a Slakoth's pace between his legs to guide the rod, wary of saying anything at all lest his voice come out strained and weird, and then his dad might realize that he wasn't exactly training. As the haft entered and exited him, Brendan felt it drag heavily back and forth against his inner walls as the foreign object was gradually absorbed deeper into his narrow abyss of inner flesh.
"I just wanted to tell you that the day you defeated me and I put the Balance Badge in your hand was one of the happiest of my life because you had surpassed me and I knew that you wouldn't stop there. I knew you would go far, much further than I ever have, and become one of the greatest trainers Hoenn has ever seen."
"Brendan, you are my son and I have raised you to respect Pokémon as partners in your endeavors, whatever they may be. They will eat with you, train with you and live with you. They will share in your triumphs, sorrows, hardships and joys. When I watched you fight side by side with your Pokémon in my gym, I had no doubt that you had faithfully kept to the ethic I had given to you when you started out and it was clear to see from the way that you communicated with each other not through words, but instinctive mutual understanding. Your synchronization with your team was better than any I have ever seen. It was seamless…perfect harmony. And if you have that with them, there isn't a trainer that you'll ever come across who you can't defeat."
"Th – Thanks, dad," was all Brendan could say without giving himself away. He heard his father clear his throat uncomfortably on the other end at the tepid response.
"Anyway, I called because I just wanted to say that I'm proud of you…"
"Think your dad would still be proud if he could see you fishing with your Super Rod like this because you lost to me?" Youngster whispered idly into Brendan's ear.
"Shut up," Brendan hissed back venomously.
"Sorry?" Norman sounded taken aback while at the same time Youngster quietly retorted, "Sure. But can you?"
"No! Not you, dad. Was just talking t–to…SAL!" Brendan's last word came out reflexively as a loud cry before he could stop himself when Youngster's hand curled over his to callously ram the entire haft of the rod all the way in scoring an easy jackpot and muttering, "Oh! Looks like I got a bite!"
"Son? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine! I…I just twisted my ankle!" Brendan stammered wildly, panicking as he heard his own voice starting to waver out of control as Youngster took over, nearly pulling the instrument out only to stake him with the whole hilt once more, hitting another jackpot.
"Ah! Ah! No…stop! I c–can't–!" Brendan groaned, trembling like a leaf as the pressure got the better of him. At this point, he could no longer keep quiet and had to cover his mouth with his hand to hide the noises.
"Brendan? Are you sure you're –"
"Yes!" Brendan shouted at his father through the palm of his glove.
Youngster javelined the rod's handgrip hard and deep until Brendan's legs twitched wildly to indicate the biggest jackpot yet and he tossed his head back, a quiet moan surfacing.
"Okay." Norman said, clearly confused but still oblivious. "Well…umm…good luck with the Elite Four. I'll be watching it all on the live broadcast."
Click. Norman finally hung up and at the same time, Youngster retracted the Super Rod entirely so that the rubber handle re-emerged from Brendan's rectum in a slippery embrocation of his internal fluids, coming free with a parting squelch from the Littleroot trainer who sagged in relief while taking shallow, unsteady breaths.
"I think you've had enough of that so we'll play another game," Youngster proclaimed, casting the Nav and Super Rod aside.
"Another? Haven't I already paid you more than enough like this?" Brendan asked lowly, sounding worn out.
"Nah. That nice, little show you put on for me was just a freebie," Youngster snidely declared. "You didn't think I'd let you off the hook with something that easy, did you?" He approached Brendan while reaching down for the hem of his own shorts.
"What are you doing?!" Brendan exploded in alarm, straightening himself into an upright sitting position.
There was a terse rasp of metal as Youngster disarmed his zipper and pushed his shorts down with fumbling hands, showing off to a speechlessly gaping Brendan his own small, boyish thighs and the cherubic lump between them jutting sprightly into the open air.
"It's a game I saw some older boys in Lilycove City play once," Youngster explained. "The winner gets to stick his Weedle in the loser's mouth and the loser has to eat it. I heard them say that it feels really good for the winner!"
"No way. That sounds gross and I won't do it," Brendan staunchly refused, shaking his head. Youngster had already made him perform that provocative display as a sick way of making fun of him and that had been nearly more than he could bear. He didn't want to think about what else was coming next.
"Huh? What did you just say? You already promised that you'd play whatever games I wanted so you're not allowed to back out now," Youngster warned.
"This isn't a game."
"It's a game if I say it's a game."
It's dirty and it's wrong. We shouldn't play these kinds of things."
"Well, you still have to pay me somehow and this is a pretty good way. If you don't I could always go to the Battle Standards and Regulations Commission. Your choice."
Brendan went over his options in his mind. He could not forfeit everything he and his team had worked so hard for over some stupid match that didn't even matter against someone as irrelevant and unimportant as Youngster. Hopefully, it was still too early for other people to be around but even if there were, they were both screened from plain sight by the Oran and Sitrus shrubs. Maybe if he was quick about it...
"Go on. Do it." Youngster ordered Brendan impatiently, obscenely nudging his hard-on into the teenage trainer's face who shrank away from the uncomfortable proximity to avoid the offensively blatant gesture. "It's just a game, remember?"
Brendan reluctantly gave in; his expression still wrought with conflicted uncertainty as he gingerly opened his tightly pressed lips in acceptance of the juvenile trainer. Youngster, who was brimming with eagerness to try his game thrust swiftly in.
Clueless as to what he was supposed to do next, Brendan merely cradled the other boy's cock on his motionless tongue and resolutely glared.
"Yuck. It's just…wet," Youngster complained, crinkling his face in distaste. "Hey, you're not getting it right so you better do it properly. Don't forget, you're doing this to pay me, so stop skimping out."
Growing hot with embarrassment, Brendan tightened his lips and began to suckle Youngster gently, who let out a quiet, shuddering breath above him in response to the ring of squeezing pressure being applied around his hardness.
It was slippery and felt a bit like playing a rubbery Poké Flute. Brendan tried his best to control it with his mouth but it fumbled constantly; slipping from his lips to graze his cheek thanks, in part, to Youngster bucking his hips experimentally once or twice; and whenever he did manage to grab it in his mouth, it would slide around everywhere inside, the tip prodding his roof sharply and rubbing against his teeth. He placed a hand on Youngster's waist to offset the bucking and give himself better control while his other one remained planted against the ground in order to keep him propped in his squatting position.
Although he had never done anything this before, he guessed that he must have been at least on the right track when he heard Youngster utter above him, "Yeah…now it's starting to feel good. Ohhhh – that's even better," Youngster added with a gasp, peering down to see the fanning peaks of Brendan's white hat bouncing in unison with his head which began to brusquely and mechanically bob over his crotch. "Yeah, k – keep doing that!"
With Youngster steadied and a clearer idea of what type of things would work well, Brendan tried a different tact, purposely letting the cock pop out of his mouth and tilting his neck so that he could shyly stroke the dimpled underside with the tip of his tongue, which Youngster seemed to enjoy as well judging from the keening noise he made.
Brendan's eyes darted nervously to the berry-rich bushes safeguarding their flimsy seclusion in case someone was there and had heard Youngster. The last thing he wanted was to be seen groveling at the knees of some punk kid trainer while giving his junk a slobbery massage with his mouth.
Widening his jaw a little further, Brendan's head darted forth, lips slurping all the way down Youngster's stalk until they met the flat plane of the younger boy's stomach, retaking it entirely to the base so that he could immerse it inside his mouth once more and welcome it with fervent licking.
Youngster grew more and more enamoured of Brendan's repayment. So much so that like a knee-jerk response, he accidentally gave an especially forceful thrust knocking the crouching trainer right off his feet. Brendan landed squarely onto his rear, his back thumping into the tree behind him.
Youngster was too impatient to wait for him to recover and stumbled forward right into the Littleroot trainer so that his hips collided into Brendan's face and began to hungrily gyrate himself into it, thoughtlessly crushing Brendan's head into the thick trunk.
Inexorably buffeted against the tree, Brendan uttered quashed, awkward "Mmmmph! Mmmmph!"s, placing his hands on either side of Youngster's waist and trying to push him away to give himself some much needed space but the boy's thighs continued to ceaselessly flatten his face, hammering rudely into his cheeks with dull claps that made him wince from discomfit.
"Uhhhhh, yeah…so warm…mmmh…oh yeah…" Youngster mumbled above him, his breathing ragged as he continued to use Brendan's mouth to his heart's content, inconsiderately disregarding the other trainer's muffled protests that were punctuated with unmistakably suggestive wet, slipping noises that Brendan prayed would not attract the attention of any possibly nearby trainers.
"Ah! Yeah! I – I'm about to…Gonna sh-shoot!" Youngster cried out, firmly gripping the back of his older opponent's snowy hat as he finished inside Brendan's mouth whose eyes widened as he felt the warm splash of several weak spurts of obscenely sweet-tasting fluid exploding all over his tongue, stinging his taste buds.
"Wow…that was awesome. Best feeling ever," Youngster sighed, eyes that were glazed with contentment drifting down to the Littleroot teen whose lips were curled in silent anger around the softening cock still settled in his mouth and was refusing to meet his gaze.
"Loser has to eat it, remember?" Youngster reminded Brendan with a grin.
Without looking at Youngster still, Brendan's eyes narrowed sullenly for a brief moment before he closed them completely and forced himself to swallow.
"Ngh…" The mixture was sugary in a budding way and slid easily down his throat, leaving him sickened at the thought that he had just actually consumed another trainer's semen, let alone the fact that it had been this infuriatingly cocky brat's, with his stupid-looking baseball cap and his Wailord-sized ego.
"That'll show ya for thinking you're a better trainer than me," Youngster said derisively, finally relinquishing his hold on the back of Brendan's head.
Brendan opened his mouth and Youngster extracted his cock which was glossy with saliva. A few dwindling strands of Brendan's drool were still glued to it as it emerged, stretching out from the messy web of his parted lips.
"So, are you done?" Brendan asked tonelessly, shrugging his left shoulder to wipe the residual fluids from his chin on his upper sleeve before looking sideward and away from Youngster in an attempted air of casual indifference. However, his voice trembled slightly with suppressed emotion.
"Maybe," Youngster teased, peering down at Brendan's cock, which had been ignored up to this point, yet was still patiently and dutifully standing at attention. "But it looks like you're not."
"What do you care?"
"Well, it's like a Pokémon battle isn't it? When you run out of HP you faint and you lose. Except instead of a fight between our Pokémon, this is between you and me. And you haven't 'fainted' yet."
"Seems like I've already beaten you then, because you fainted right in my mouth," Brendan said, deadpan.
"Heh, never heard of a Full Revive?"
Youngster started toying with his loose member and to Brendan's dismay, it slowly twitched back to life right before his eyes. How could this kid have that much stamina? Did he EV train it or something?
"Looks like you haven't beaten me yet after all." Youngster crowed, snickering at Brendan's ashen expression as he lowered himself into a kneeling position onto the grass between the older teen's legs while prying them wider apart with his hands. "Let's see what Mr. TV Celebrity Big Shot has to say about this."
Brendan stirred slightly as Youngster launched his waist into the gap he had made for himself, inducing in him the same sensation as when he had forced himself upon the Super Rod, only on a much lesser scale. All of Youngster's cock piled in immediately and without any trouble, becoming easily lost within the taller trainer's body.
Brendan let Youngster do whatever he wanted, watching uncomfortably while lying sprawled and unresistingly still underneath the smaller trainer leaning over him and whose hands were pressing down on his thighs to keep them apart while his child's frame rocked madly. Despite Youngster's energetic pounding, Brendan barely felt him at all as Youngster didn't even come close to carving him out as broadly and deeply as the Super Rod had. It just felt awkward, really, and a bit ticklish.
Youngster noticed Brendan's lack of reaction and mistook the gist of it. "What, giving up already? Bet'cha not feeling so big about yourself now."
Although he had already surrendered his body to Youngster for payment, Brendan wouldn't allow his pride as a trainer to be further trampled over so he issued a calm retort. "Funny you should talk about feeling big because you don't feel like much next to the Super Rod."
Youngster's features darkened with hurt and juvenile anger at the insult.
"Oh yeah? Could your Super Rod do this?"
A startled yelp fled Brendan's throat as his erection was roughly grabbed by the kid's fist. Youngster's face split into a satisfied smirk at the noise and slowly, deliberately, he peeled Brendan's layer of milky foreskin back to brazenly reveal his coral pink jewel, shining wetly with precome.
"Whoops. Don't like being touched there or is that just your Water Pulse attack?" Youngster taunted, his grip constricting tightly until he forced another cry from Brendan before starting to drag up and down in an agonizingly slow pattern. "Jeez, if that's the only attack you've got, you really need to try expanding your move set."
Youngster's erratic, jerky stroking was inexperienced and his small fingers slid clumsily all over Brendan's flushed and throbbing cock but after going so long without release, it was more than enough impetus to push the older teen toward the limit he had wanted to shunt himself away from but so badly needed now.
"This is what you get when you lose to me, the greatest trainer in the world!" Youngster boasted. "I guess a Pokémon battle isn't the only thing I can top you in, if you get my drift. Y'know, I think I like being paid like this more than money!"
"Hah…ah…stop it…hah…not supposed to – uh!...pay you…like this…" Brendan protested breathlessly while Youngster harshly groped his trickling hardness and kept smacking him with his jabbing hips in a barrage of Body Slam attacks, their cozily huddled bodies speckled with prickles of sunlight filtering through the dense foliage high above.
As he was battered simultaneously by his younger opponent's Body Slam and Crush Grip attacks, the back of Brendan's head banged against the trunk from overriding pleasure as he was urged on by Youngster's dual stimulation. He was far too preoccupied now to worry about being caught by other trainers anymore.
"Wow, you should see your face. You look like such a loser right now!" Youngster drawled, looking down at Brendan whose semi-lidded crimson eyes were shimmering with desperation while saliva trailed from his gaping lips, running down his chin. "How do you like my Crush Grip, loser? Must be super effective because you look like you're about to faint any second now!"
N-Not a…loser…" Brendan mumbled huskily, shaking his head. "I'm not…"
"Are you sure? Because you look like you're just about to faint. Loser! Loser! Loser's gonna faint!" Youngster chanted in a sing-song voice. "Come on, I wanna see it happen. I wanna see my Crush Grip make you–" and painfully stretching Brendan's foreskin down again, Youngster's other hand slid up to clench Brendan's raw, pink glans abusively, "…faint!"
Brendan let out a half-cry, half-moan that was loud with shame as his cock let off strongly, jetting out airborne spurts of hot, pasty semen that leapt wildly up his polo top leaving dark blotches as it slinked down the black and orange canvas like rain on a window pane.
"Psht, what a pathetic Hydro Pump. That was waaaaaay too easy. As if you're anywhere good enough to become the Champion. It's almost like you actually enjoy losing and getting pounded by another trainer," Youngster insulted Brendan, who had no answer but for gasping in exhaustion while slumping back against the tree.
Bracing his hands astride Brendan's head against the rough bark, Youngster leaned over the defeated trainer to rest his prevailing erection triumphantly next to Brendan's sorry-looking one which was splayed limply across his waist. "See? I'm still up but you're just all soft, puny mush."
"Hey," Youngster went on matter-of-factly, raising himself a bit higher so that his straining boyhood was square in Brendan's face as his hand snuck forth to play with it again. "I know you're already down and all but I'm sure you wouldn't mind taking one more hit?" Youngster emphasized the word in a hitched grunt while lacing Brendan with several runny, translucent doses of a second Bullet Seed attack. Brendan winced as the attack flecked his face and splished all over his clothes.
"They were some pretty fun games, weren't they?" Youngster said at last. He moved away from Brendan to pick up his underwear which he slipped into, tucking his floppy centerpiece which was rosy from excessive use snugly in. His shorts were next and he pulled them easily up each leg, re-zipping his fly when he was finished.
"Choose a bigger Fire Type next time Littleroot, you Water Type loser!" jeered Youngster, hooting with laughter as he swaggered off with his Mightyena trotting obediently at his heels without so much as a consolatory glance at the other trainer.
It was only after Youngster and Mightyena had departed, leaving Brendan in his disheveled state, lying at the foot of the tree behind the berry hedges for any passerby to discover him clad only in his rumpled shirt smeared with telltale splotches underneath which his crotch was openly exposed to the bite of the icy morning air that he reflected dully that he still had a lot more training to do.
After a few moments, he noticed that his tracksuit pants had been left behind for him, carelessly discarded amongst the grass a short distance away in front of him, not far from his PokéNav and Super Rod.
A/N #1: Sal is the shortened nickname for Brendan's Salamence.
A/N #2: How did Sal go down in one hit? Through the magical plot device of critical hits.
A/N #3: Brendan isn't THAT small. I just wanted a way to throw that Littleroot joke in.
A/N #4: Reviews and comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!