(Yay, here we are, an update! The raid is scheduled to happen soon...what will happen next?)

(Important: If you are reading on FFN, you are reading an edited version, with slightly different content but identical plot. You may go to AO3 for the unedited version.)

Sylveon

What do you dislike the most about your work?

Sometimes clients do things to me that hurt. I have to do them anyway, 'cause well, they're my clients. I don't like them to pull at my ribbons. They're painful. Some of them like to beat me with their belts. They think blood looks pretty on me.

You get cuts?

Yeah. They hurt a lot. One time this man took these metal things. I saw you put them on the lady when your people took her away.

You mean handcuffs?

Yes. That's right. Handcuffs. The man put the handcuffs on my legs, so I couldn't move. Then he went inside me. In the place where your poop comes out. I couldn't spread my legs because of the handcuffs. So it hurt a little. That man visited me at least ten times, I think. I guess it hurt a lot then. It hurt to go poo for a few days after.

Do you fight back when your customers try to hurt you?

Yeah, sometimes. See my teeth? [shows teeth] They're really sharp. A lot of my customers are surprised when they see them. They think I look so cute, and then I open my mouth. [giggles] Sometimes if my attacks don't work, I just bite them really hard. Or I eat the pieces of cloth they always cover their body with. That always makes humans feel embarrassed, for some reason.

What happens if your clients get hurt?

Of course, the clients complain. The lady scolded me. Some people complain to Master. But Master doesn't care. He tells them it's part of the risk of fucking a wild pokémon. He only cares if his pokémon get hurt.

So what happens when you get hurt?

Well I get used to it. After a few hours the blood freezes because it's too cold outside of my warm body. Then it doesn't hurt so bad. [smiles] Occasionally Master will use this special spray bottle with a special healing liquid. It feels much better after that. But Master only uses the magic spray if I make enough money for him.

Do you understand what money is for?

Yeah. Money is pieces of paper that humans give worth to. So things can be worth a certain amount of money, so they can buy it. I guess. I dunno, it doesn't make much sense to me. [giggles]

What kind of things have monetary value?

Clothes, candy, food. You know. Things. That's a silly question. [giggles]

So how do you feel that humans have put monetary value on you?

I don't mind, really. That deosnt' make me a thing. They can think whatever they want, I'm still only worth whatever I declare myself to be.

That's quite noble of you. Do you feel that right has been taken from you?

[silence] I guess. But…I've…I've got used to it. I…I have, I really…[silence]. No, I'm wrong. I never got used to it. [crying] How is anyone supposed to stay trapped in a room forever!? How is anyone expected to used to that!?

Sandra

For days, the sounds of the sylveon were music to my ears. Sometimes an aria would be crooned gently in my ear, surrounded by auras of pink light. Sometimes a symphony pounded in my ears, pulsating through my veins. And I wondered if he was hearing the same music.

But of course every time the music gripped me, the sylveon would grip me tighter, push me further into the soft mattress. When the rhythm sank deeper into me, he pushed deeper still. I would moan as the mattress springs pressed harder on me, his length reaching further inside of me.

And he would smile with a sort of demented satisfaction. That naughty little pokémon always loved to be on top when we made love.

All the time, reality seemed to be a step ahead of the magical musical fantasy playing in my mind. I tugged at his ribbons, pulling the reins as time charged forward. But when the reality stopped at a moment, it became a wall in the road—bringing the fantasy to a screeching halt as well.

It took me some time to learn that he did not like his ribbons to be tugged at. I figured it out during the day when I thought I knew everything about that pokémon. It had been ninety days since we met.

"Mmm…mmm…EEEEEE!" He would screech, his voice not getting the least bit hoarse at the highest squeaks.

"That's it…oh boy you love it, yes you do…" I yanked at his ribbons in the heat of passion.

"EEEEE!" He pushed me into the mattress. Hard. So hard that I could even feel his blunt claws pressing on my arms, normally concealed by an inch of thick fur.

He desperately tried to sing a song to me. It wasn't very effective, because he was already short of breath from thrusting into me. Pink rings of light filled the room. As if by magic, the tension in my hands eased—if only momentarily. I had gotten too used to his songs. The lively passion burning within me sprung back. I tugged at his ribbons again.

"Tell me…more…tell me…you love it…" I was short of breath. Touching his ribbons gave me life.

"EEEEE!" He pushed harder, deeper. His legs froze, as if paralyzed. I blamed his tension on lust, but I had an inkling it was more than that.

He reached his head down to kiss my bare breast. He had never done that before. My eyes drooped, my body lost strength—what was the lightest touch became the most intense feeling. And my muscles and eyelids heavy, I was helpless against the tingling feelings on my sensitive body. It was more powerful than the song. But the sedative kiss only made the passionate heat fire back up even stronger.

"Ohhh….ahhh…mmm…" I bit into his left ribbon. My teeth grinded passionately against the fine fur coating it. The floral smell crept up for not more than a second.

"EEEE…AAAAH!" The bliss ended. I was confused, but not for more than a second. I would wish for the confusion after I discovered the truth.

"AAAAAAAH…OW!" I screamed. He sunk his teeth into my flesh.

He smiled briefly, satisfied that I was finally subdued. "AAAAH!" He yelled at me again. I wasn't sure what he was saying. But if I knew, he probably would be saying:

"Aren't you lovely? Doesn't your flesh and blood taste so lovely? Don't you feel the pain? Isn't the pain so lovely?"

So I went along with it.

He bit me again. He drew more blood. Could it really have been some sort of perverted fantasy that pokémon had? Pleasure through battle? No. It wasn't that. The fierce, glimmering blue eyes of the sylveon told me I was wrong.

"STOP IT! STOP IT!" I yelled.

He shouted even more. Then he walked to a corner of the bed and bit into my clothes strewn on the bed with his surprisingly sharp fangs. He pulled his ribbons close to him, defensively. I could not touch him as he destroyed my possessions, which he declared to be worthless pieces of cloth.

And for once, I was frightened by those aqua blue eyes. I could say I was…captivated by him, but not in the innocent, loving way that it once was. I was captivated by his domineering stance above me, lying flat, helpless, on my back. His icy blue gaze. I pulled the blanket over my naked body as the sylveon tore through my clothes. It had become colder all of a sudden. What was I without my clothes? My family?

"Please, stop!" I cried out to the pokémon, one last time. He did not listen. He continued shredding my clothes.

"Goddamn it, you fucking piece of shit! What the hell d'you think you're doing to me!?" I blurted out.

This time, he looked up. All he did was smiled. That same, innocent carefree smile, a shred of fabric hanging from his mouth. It was disgusting. And yet it was so beautiful. It was something I couldn't bear to leave.

What was I without the sylveon?

Christine

"Did you get that down?" I yelled to my work partner. "Quickly, write it down! Unknown woman 6 says to unknown pokémon 4: '…you fucking piece of shit.' That's definite evidence of abuse right there, verbal at the very least. I also hear sounds of…not sure…it sounds like…tearing flesh. Don't tell me the woman's actually biting that poor pokémon, some kinky fantasy of hers."

"Lemme pull up the record…woman 6…activity record…here we are." He wrote down the dialog. "Got it. What pokémon species is it that we're hearing in the background?"

"Off the top of my head, I'd say a sort of eevee, but I'm not sure," I said, trying to listen closely to the high-pitched vocalizations. "The pokémon voice expert's coming in at 9am to analyze the sound."

"Yeah, no fucking chance anyone in Hau'oli is gonna come see us at 3am…except a bunch of lunatics."

Looking at the clock, I took a sip of my coffee. After much effort, for the last two months before the final raid, our undercover agents, disguised as customers, managed to plant hidden microphone bugs into several key locations in the pokémon brothel.

At least two police officers were listening 24/7, in shifts, nonstop for 60 days. At this particular time of night, I was on duty along with agent Looker, another senior International Police agent.

"Heh," he scoffed loudly with the headphones over him. "If had known I'd be listening to a bunch of horny pokémon for four hours, I'd have gotten another job."

I removed one side of my headphones. "You can't believe that those pokémon are actually enjoying being abused by humans."

"Maybe not, but would I be surprised if they were? Nah. Pokémon are more similar to us humans than we think. Like the beliefs of Team Plasma, when I was pursuing them. They base their ideology on the time when humans coexisted with pokémon, thousands of years ago. And it's a true story, widely accepted by scholars."

I didn't reply. I put on my headphones again, and let myself be swallowed by the sounds of vice and sin. Despite that, I felt alone in my relentless pursuit against the PokéPalace. I had not done much undercover work during my nearly 20-year police career, unlike many other senior agents. This was crucial: Looker always said getting to know your enemy was the most important part of an investigation…even if it meant swaying occasionally to the side of evil.

The PokéPalace case was only my second international case. Before, I worked for 15 years in the Olivine Police Department in Johto, before receiving enough recognition to be recommended for a senior position in the International Police.

"What's the matter, Christine? You seem down."

"Wouldn't you feel down listening to hours of pokémon sexual abuse on overtime?"

"We humans have our needs too. What makes you think pokémon don't feel the same feelings and take pleasure in the same things that we do?"

I did not reply.

"What's the matter?" He asked again.

"I'll tell you what's the matter!" I removed my headphones and slammed them on the table. "We're the police! We stop the criminals! They sure as hell don't stop us!" I let my hands swallow my face. Tears did not come out—my sleepless eyes were too raw and dry for tears.

Looker stopped teasing. "No matter how bad the criminals are, they are human beings, Christine." He sighed. "That's something you only learn after many years of undercover work."

Finally tears came out. I was tempted to put on my headphones just to filter out Looker's words. Even the tortuous sounds of pokémon abuse would have been less painful than this.

He quickly changed his tone. "Was…was I being insensitive?"

"You're damn right you're being insensitive! I asked for you to come all the way from Sinnoh, just for you to launch a whole smear campaign against my case, supporting Team Plasma and those perverts running that…that…pokémon abuse center!" I pointed at my headphones.

"I'm…I'm sorry," Looker apologized. "I didn't mean it that way."

"No, it's not your fault. Am I the only one that what the PokéPalace is doing is wrong? I mean, why is there no one, no one—not even my fellow agents—who even has the guts to say such a fucking simple thing!?"

Looker scooted in a bit closer. "Of course something criminal is going on, Christine. And we're gonna stop them. And I'm sorry if I gave you an impression otherwise. You just have to be careful. If you say something's wrong just because you've been told to follow it in a case, you're just being blindly loyal.

"As an International Police, you are an independent agent, not a police officer. You have to make your own judgments sometimes. International law is so vague that sometimes there is no clear right or wrong. That's what makes it different from regional police work."

I nodded weakly, but that was all. I just wanted the argument to end. "We…we better get back to…to listening in."

"Yeah, of course." Looker rolled his chair back to his spot and put on his headphones.

We agreed to disagree. Of course Looker, being a lifelong bachelor (married to his job), would lack sympathy for the pokémon victims of the brothel. Perhaps if he wasn't doing this job, he would be a customer himself.

Me, I am different. Unlike many International Police agents, I have a family, who lives in Johto. My partner Jan cares for my two sons in Olivine, where she works in sales at an office building. Of course my job as an International Police demands much time away from home. I spend, cumulatively, about 10 months out of 12 on the job. My only claim to the family is that biologically, both sons are mine—I provided the body, if nothing else.

My 9-year-old son Edison has an eevee himself, who he has trained in battle for several years now. (Perhaps that was part of the reason why I grew so attached to the case regarding, in particular, the sylveon victim.) Last time I was at home, his eevee, "Solomon", was getting remarkably good at its double edge attack. He wants it to evolve into an espeon, the psychic type. On the last night before I was scheduled to fly to Alola, I asked Edison why he wanted an espeon.

"If Solomon becomes espeon, then he could use telepathy to send your hugs to me when you're far far away. What do you think? Is that a good idea, Mommy Christy?"

Sometimes if I zoned out the high-pitched cries of abused pokémon, it would resemble the cries of my own two boys as they were begging me not to go, not to go, to please please play with them for a few more minutes.

My career in police has taken hours, months, years of my time with my family—and I don't even bat an eye. All my good children asked for was a few minutes more of my time and I couldn't even give them that!?

I teared up again. Perhaps it was my fault for feeling so down. It was my fault for sympathizing with the pokémon victims. It was my fault for having emotions. It was just that I hoped that I could care for the struggling victims of contemptible international crimes better than I could ever care for my own children.

"Hey," Looker said after a while. "Interesting conversation out of line 1, front desk."

"Okay. Tuning in," I said as I pressed the switch.

"You're not the Lilycove Department Store," one oddly familiar voice said. "You don't give out receipts. Did I ever fucking tell you to give out receipts?"

"No, Mr. Giovanni. Of course not," another man said. (This voice, unknown man #2, we later identified as the manager of the PokéPalace, Kai Beverly.)

"Now, I wanna know why that receipt was found on that Team Skull member. I blame it on you."

Mr. Beverly said, "No! No, Mr. Giovanni, with all due respect I—"

We heard a gunshot.

"Send a bus to the building! Fast!" I called out. I wasn't sure how many people were on duty at the office at 4am, going on 5am.

"No, wait!" Looker stopped me. "I can hear something. I think it's a false alarm. I hear the same two voices. Doesn't sound like anyone got hurt. The gun must've been fired to the ceiling as a threat or something."

There was some crackling, some faint, muted conversation, and then a loud booming voice came on.

"Who the hell is this…!?" The sound pierced our ears more than the gunshot. It was a voice all International Police recognized. Even Looker could not dispute: it was the voice of pure evil.

It was Giovanni.

The last we heard of him were violent cracking and snapping sounds, and then the microphone went dead.

Giovanni most likely organized a search with Mr. Beverly to crush any remaining microphones. Soon after, 5 more microphones were met with the same fatal cracking and snapping sounds. Only the microphone in the top floor room remained undamaged: the room where the sylveon and Mrs. Macintosh frequently occupied.

They did not find where we hid it: behind an unused case of potion bottles in the room. Of course the staff at the brothel would never go near such a thing.

"Oh, would you look at that, the sun's coming up," I commented. "The regular staff will be coming in soon. I'll…I'll inform them of the damaged microphones. See if we can get some new ones in there. The time is just right to conduct a raid, I can feel it; we can't afford to lose our case now."

"I've learned not to trust hunches, Christine. But whatever. You're actually gonna go ahead with this raid?" Looker asked me, leaning back in his chair.

"Of course. I've sent 20 backup officers from Johto. They'll be here in Hau'oli in a few days. I've arranged for them to meet in my office to prepare for the raid when they arrive."

"You are ready?" Looker asked, rather dubiously. He was being serious.

"Yes, we almost are. We have enough evidence from the wiretap and intelligence reports. It's time to crush this illegal institution."

"No, I mean, are you ready?" He gave me genuinely concerned look.

"Of course I am. I don't quite understand your question."

"Don't underestimate the power of the pokémon prostitution business, Christine. That close call with Team Rocket just proved it to me. It's a massive tangled web you'll be diving into. It might mold you more than you could ever mold them."

I bristled. "This is my case, Looker. What do you know about the matter?"

He put his hands up. "All right, all right, we're all tired. Maybe I spoke out of turn. I'm saying just be careful, and watch the can of worms you'll be opening when you conduct this raid."

(To be continued. Thanks for reading, and as always, I appreciate your comments/criticism/feedback!)