4
It seemed particularly funny, at least to my silent self. Poetic in a way, how I went from one hotel—for me, at least until then, the only hotel in existence—to another. Lumiose was big enough in order for me to achieve a sort of social invisibility, however, the money I took from my parents was consumed by the city with dehumanizing speed. My economical situation was not helped but instead hindered by my first attempt as a free soul fresh out of the abyss to find my beloved. A few nights scouting the less-than-fine establishments banished to the outer outskirts of the city, with their neon-engulfed walls varnished with filthy crumbs of seedy melancholy, resulted in an expectant walk to a two-story house in a middle-class neighborhood, in the middle of the night, while cold sweat vaporized on my seething skin. Imagine the turbines of a plane turning off in the middle of a flight, and a consequent fall from the starry sky, caressing the clouds as it once headed for paradise, now into a devastating collision with the merciless sea. My zest fell lower than the ground, although the devastating contact could only be heard, loudly, in my mind. I knew I had been played, when a morbidly obese woman led me from the living room of a depressing household, through some heavy curtains with some abstract embroidery, into a bedroom containing a small miltank, with its chubby appendages, secretory or otherwise, visibly hardened by the superficial grease inhabiting on its carnation skin ever since the pokemon's owners had been thoughtless, unsanitary idiots—perhaps, all of their life. A look and a smell sufficed to accept my resignation to continue my search elsewhere, however, as soon as I voiced my desire to leave without making use of any of their services, a brick-shaped man with the same face as the rotund woman, and twice her height, blocked my way and demanded remuneration for, if nothing else, their time.
There was no way I could have known then, that my passion was not unique. I was aware it wasn't a singular phenomenon, with which I had been tainted. But the level of solicitude that my fellow beguiled researchers displayed was at first unfathomable in its monstrous grandiosity. It brought forth different reactions out of what my consciousness could disclose, all of them hyperbolic. I marveled and rejoiced at the prospect of a glorious indulgence, like that in which my many precursors with the same condition as myself had experienced, for as long as their eagerness to put their overflowing dreams into practice had allowed them. I was also astonished and enthralled in a morbidly enticing way, when I discovered exactly how they managed to achieve their intimate connections. There was a farm outside Lumiose, that functioned as a pokemon day care center during a certain time in a 24-hour cycle. I'm not certain if it ever functioned as an actual farm, whatever that entails, and I didn't have the time nor the motivation to ever find out. But during the night, when it was operated by its owner, or at least overseen by him or her or them or it; during the night, princes and princesses of many shapes and sizes descended from an enchanted castle in the sky, and with their pure and merciful spirits full of joy and love, graced the lowly peasants and their feet tied to the ground with merry dances under the cover of darkness and the pale moon above, and together they celebrated until their spirits could give no more and their breaths were aching to return to their empty lungs. The owner of the farm was supposedly a trainer who made it far enough in his career to afford buying the elderly couple who previously owned the day care out, and then he began a career on the Trainer PR Videos on Lumiose which then branched into the film industry, or, he didn't make it far enough at all on his training and became wealthy from his endeavors in the Lumiose film industry. Either way, the owner was wealthy enough to keep a place like that running indiscriminately, without a single interruption, and with a wide array of choices. As a refined individual with a taste for the basic things in life, from the first time I visited the farm I took an instant liking to an adorable brown creature with dull black eyes which seemed dead and ready to be infused with my life. Her ears, as long and luscious as her ability to tempt every fiber of my carnality, reached all the way to her knees while her figure in full barely reached my navel. Her ears ended, just like in her wrists, her feet, and eye-lashes, in an agglomeration of cream-colored fur which felt more like fresh and tender wool from a mareep. It gave her form more nuance, and added a more carefree and juvenile side to my tactile experience, as opposed to the rest of her body covered brown fur, more formal and sober, no less enjoyable, simply different with just a movement of my hand; and therefore a richer experience altogether, it was to enjoy her. As if preparing me for my future encounter with Nene, she stood in two legs, but, apart from her ears simulating two twin-tails falling from either side of her head, the similarities ended there. Unlike Nene, her frame was filled specially on her thighs, which along with her perky rear, simulated perfectly the ideal frame of a svelte yet abundantly voluptuous woman. However, she was enhanced by her fur and a resilient collection of it right above her rear, which made up her tail, and so she—lopunny—was a coveted agent which represented something and another at the same time.
I came back to her a couple of times, but the general atmosphere on the rustic premises was not entirely of my liking. Too crowded, more so than what I was used to at the mausoleum, where nothing happened with Melusin. In the hotel there was always a cloistered sense of seclusion that would always be invaded and destroyed by prying bodies, but in the farm I couldn't even get a simple time before an interruption: the rest of the beguiled researchers had already had the opportunity to lose all their inhibitions, some of them had even developed certain tastes which required company, and the air seemed to be polluted with their frantic exhalations regardless of where they were. A couple other times I managed to lure the loppuny to the woods located close to the farm, but she was always coy about it, remained nervous throughout, and I couldn't make her stay away from the farm for too long. And the last time I saw her, when I unsuccessfully tried to convince her to leave her communal life and be with me, she reminded me that intrinsically I was alone and incapable of making a real connection, and she also reminded me that intrinsically she could never be more than a toy to be passed around among the rest of the beguiled.
My decision to stop visiting the farm was, as I convinced myself on that moment, not dictated by my disillusion at the hands of the loppuny, although it was certain to me that I couldn't look her in her dead eyes once more. I had managed to spend most of my considerable funds, this by refusing to change my standards of living since I ran away from the five star hotel where my dead father was the owner. Yes, still, I had enough money to get myself a one-way ticket to the gentle, little town of Camphier, as well as a barely bearable and impenitently judgmental night on the diffident Hotel Camphier, all because, well, I had learned on the farm that there was a competing Day Care, with a real, proper Day Care service, located west of that stupid town. It was a despondent and melancholic trip and a pathetic attempt, that was somehow successful, in a way. I was aimless, without a sight of my beloved, any beloved, not even in the tired eye of my mind. It was absurdly fortuitous, how the next day I got up from the punishing pile of rocks the people at the hotel managed to pass off as a bed, and I went for a walk, out of the town, just to be near to what I thought of as an unobtainable destination, like all the other destinations I had seen as unobtainable to myself before I found Melusin. The tiny marble house was laid upon the vast Kalos landscape, like the head of an innocent child taking a peek above the ground, wearing a brown hat that could be both pitied and fawned on. It had a weak fence that could only contain tame creatures, but, as everyone knew, it only served to contain such creatures. Outside an old, sedated woman raised her hands and with one of them she waved at me as she gave me a smile, which I returned with a shamelessly sanitized nod of the head, as if I could be considered a part of that innocent picture. Not sensing the tainted air from the farm which still moved around me like an invisible prison I couldn't keep out of my thoughts, this charming lady called to me and then asked me with a soft candied voice if I was looking for the Day Care. I said I was not, I was just passing by, but refused to leave after her cordial dismissal and hoped with the remains of my will that she wouldn't end our exchange, simply to stand near the place for a little longer. Not only did she indulge my silent wish, she uttered a few sentences that made me want to burst out into laughter, however, I tried with my instantly revitalized will to contain myself and remain earnest, and I succeeded. She said they needed an assistant. Afterwards she saw my countenance change, and I was certain then that this was what convinced her to hire me. Perhaps she thought I loved pokemon—in a way I did. She took me inside and to the yard, where many little torchic and ditto and chespin laid and played like the best of friends. I stumbled my way verbally as she informally interviewed me for the job, whereas when I answered coherent sentences these always communicated a wrong answer. But she didn't seem to mind, after all, eloquence was not needed in lovely job like that. Her first question was if I was interested, and it was the only one that mattered; what followed I cannot even remember. Working there allowed me to live without changing my lifestyle too much, and, more importantly, without having to walk back to my mother begging for money. I had a lovely, lovely, lovely time working at the Day Care, my bosses were benevolent and brief, in accordance to their advanced age. Their able-bodied, more conscious daughter was barely seen on the place. So it was just me, and I was quite good at it. It seemed at the time I had found my calling, and that seemed like an existence I would've been able to continue.
Now that I know all that ensued in full I cannot say I would have preferred to have remained at the Day Care, ignorant of all the drama that would end up derailing my life and then destroying it completely; and I cannot say I would've been able to stop it either way, because, as I learned later, everything was out to get me. One day a jolly trainer came in, with his naive face and his sadly unoriginal dreams. He handed me two pokeballs and then left with his smile intact. Outside, I opened one and wasn't surprised at all when a pink mass with the same face like that of its trainer began undulating on the ground. The arrant shock came about when I opened the second pokeball, and when the pokemon previously inside it finished condensing before me it still took me some considerable moments to realize his identity. He had retained all of his refined verve, his formal yet passionate spirit had remained exactly the same, his chin was still always up. I could see it in his semblance when he walked, when he looked at me, with the same look of amazement on his face. And then he lost his sober flair, and then he ran up to me, and then he wrapped me in an effusive hug which enfolded me whole in an aura of warmth, and the yearning for a love I hadn't felt since I'd lost him for the first time. It was Melusin, and when I understood what was happening I broke down on his embrace, and tears did flow out of my eyes, after all I had just finished comprehending, after having thought him lost forever, that I had my dearly beloved right in front of me. Our hug was soothing and heartfelt at first, and then it turned lively and exploratory, and when I felt his palpitating vessels covered in smooth and lustrous yellow hair, becoming kinetically charged from the incessant pace of my hands through his shape, resulting in the quite perceptible increase of the temperature around us, brought about by Melusin's unconscious stimulation of his intrinsic ardency, my loins demanded that I yielded full control of my psyche to the overwhelming desire which then reached my brain. And then like never before were the tools with which I could reach and caress more desperate to be satisfied, and then my heightened senses delighted in the familiarity of which I had dreamed every night beforehand, as well as the stimulating novelty of discovering the sensual extent of his evolved form. Substantially more voluminous, now my beloved stood in two legs, and his proportions had become compellingly curvaceous, and his fur was now longer and more frolicsome. His unconscious and inarticulate cries—the voice of my life's purpose—exposed his willingness to indulge the use of my teeth to taste his tenderness, and then he, as I put a transient stop to my rampant performance, if only to elevate its capacity by unleashing my tangible fervor from its black denim shackles, with his barely conscious power increased the temperature around us once more, to the point where I, during a particularly cold day in the middle of fall, began to sweat. Then I led his sweetly devoted hand towards the pinnacle of my enjoyment, and stared at his solemn obedience, which waited for my resumption, and proceeded, with all the power that I could muster consciously with my mind, to create as palpable a memory as I could. That moment was supposed to sojourn warmly at the forefront of my mind from then on. Only then, when it was imprinted in the most objective part of my being, would I have continued my performance. There it stopped, in an unquestionable position, witnessed by my mother, who manifested herself right before me, as if she had come out of my most horrible nightmare, carrying an unspeakable expression, on her face which was the perfect mask to hide the real demon of her wrath adulterating the air behind her. From her mouth with her hyper extended jaw came out like the deafening horn of discord signaling my demise, screams which in my state couldn't be discerned by my senses, as she grabbed my wrist, carving the extravagant shape of her long fingernails on my skin, indiscriminately…
I am overcome by a sudden urge to halt my tale. Fellow beguiled, please indulge my insipid chapter of despair, which seems to strike me, with all of its thick cruelty, once every fortnight, and allow me to drop the thinly veiled facade to speak directly to you. If my mother's sudden appearance seems singularly unbelievable to you at this moment, where I particularly hope I have your undivided attention, then imagine how I felt at seeing her incensed face so close to my eyes, during that moment, when a reason for such an outcome was the last thing my mind was trying to grasp. If I was thinking of anything then, it was that my conspicuously capricious creators had decided to collect the wicked boon of what they had gifted me at birth, in the form of my fiendish mother elevated from the depths of hell itself. Such an unfortunate fate should become more believable when I mention the real reason as to why the lying corpses full of rotten life, which granted them motion, had hired me to help out at the Day Care in the first place. The seemingly sweet and sugary old lady who had offered me the job happened to be a distant relative of my mother, whom I had never met or heard of before, to my capricious recollection. And this old lady along with her husband, were awfully aware of my identity, as well as of my activities on the premises, and they were the ones who called my mother. And then she came. And then she dragged me out of the Day Care as I was still trying to pull my pants up, crying to her, trying to get her to release her lock on my arm. It was only after we were well on the middle of the street that I mustered enough courage to break free and stand my ground. However, it didn't work. She approached with relentless steps and then raised her naked hand to the skies, from where she gathered the self-righteous power of her wrath incarnate, which she then brought forth with full force on the right side of my face. Afterwards, as my skin implored, throbbing, for deliverance in crimson red, she shouted eleven times the same thing she shouted as she had dragged me out of the Day Care, to my greater despair: "Another girl will correct this!" Half an hour later my mother was dead. I would've liked nothing more than to gloat with pen and paper as well as with my voice, that I was the agent behind her last breath on this earth. Sadly, I didn't have the unique pleasure. Instead, the very exasperated eating of an opportunely ripe berry, spontaneously transfigured into the envoy of my revenge by blocking aerial and solid traffic on her upper threshold, accomplished the arduous job. Before I ran away a second time, from a second town, I went back to the Day Care owned by the living vestiges, during the night, solely intending to carve my initials on the white little fence, where they sojourn to this day: S. S.
