I had this on the backburner for a while, feels good to finally finish off the last third and publish it. This is based off of a pretty hot pic done by
レグニャ on Pixiv involving a Roserade forcing a Squirtle to play Pocky Game with her (a party game that's pretty much an excuse for two people to start kissin' and mackin' on each other). It's on their fanbox, though, so you'll have to pay ~200 yen (about $1.37 as of the time of this posting) to buy a monthly subscription and see it. You'll get a BUNCH of really nice kissing fetish art out of it, though, so I'd very much recommend supporting them!
https://www.fanbox.cc/@gureizu9012/plans
- - - - - - -
Squirtle takes a deep breath of the crisp, clean morning air, takes a bite out of the deliciously ripe Pecha berry he'd just acquired, and sighs. All the missions he's been doing lately have left him with barely any time to relax; while it feels good to help those in need, it also feels good to take a break, sit down, and listen to the world go by—after having just snuck out of camp and into the forest nearby, that's exactly what he's doing. Chikorita won't mind...well, she WOULD mind if she knew (and she'd probably call him irresponsible for leaving himself vulnerable to attack), but she doesn't NEED to know, now does she?
Though maybe she had a point last time she caught him. He's awfully far into the forest...
'Nah! She was just overreacting like she usually does. And besides, if I didn't come out here I wouldn't be able to snack on all these Pecha berries, hehe~'
After finishing off the first one, he grabs another from the small pile beside him and scarves it down in two bites.
"Ahh, this is the life..."
Just as he's about to pick up a third, he notices the sound of rustling leaves. And judging by the noise, it wasn't just a fumbling weedle...it was something big. Or at least, bigger than him.
"Me and my big mouth...maybe I shouldn't have taken so many.'
Right as he's about to grab all the Pechas he can and start running away, something tight snags on his foot, and he and his modest hoard of food go tumbling to the ground. Of course...Grass Knot. He hates that move. He hates it a LOT. And not just because it's super-effective (make that super-ANNOYING); it also reminds him of...
*Her.*
As if she could read his mind, Roserade bursts through the brush with her signature laugh, lands in front of him, picks him up by the arms, and hoists her cute little captive up into her arms. She hugs him closely, making sure the entire front half of his body is smothered against her soft, generous bosom. Squirtle grimaces. His face heats up; he knew that she could feel his heart beat faster, despite his unwillingness, and she knew that he knew.
"Well well well~ If it isn't my darling Squirtle~"
Roserade pulls him a little bit closer, licking her lips, staring him right in the eyes. "I see you were snacking on some delicious Pecha berries! Oh, but I have something MUCH sweeter for you to nibble on...~"
Squirtle flinches as his unwanted admirer purses her mouth. He's been in this situation more times than he'd like—ambushed by Roserade, unable to run or hide, or do anything but comply with her demands, whether it's letting her smother him with affection of the physical kind until she got bored (which takes a lot longer than you'd think), getting his hips pounded into dust, or playing one of her 'games' (which are often a very unsubtle attempt at foreplay that ends in either of the first two options).
But instead of commencing with the lip-lock and sucking his mouth dry, Roserade digs something out of her...*secret pocket*, giving Squirtle a view of her breasts bouncing as a thin box is pulled from out of her cleavage.
"Really, darling, don't think me so crass as to pin you down and have my way with you right here and now—though that *does* sound rather appealing," she chides. "When I say I have something sweeter, I really do mean that."
Now that Squirtle has a better look, he notices the word 'POCKY' written over the front of the box. His brow furrows. Roserade pops open the lid, revealing 12 whole sticks left inside. Then realization dawns on the turtle; she wanted to play—
"Care for a little 'Pocky Game'? If you win, you get to leave, no strings attached! But if I win...~"
Roserade's eyes lid, and she licks her lips again, very audibly this time. A familiar glow lights up her mouth. Squirtle's heart sinks in his chest.
"Aww...shy, are we? Don't worry, I'll go first..."
Letting one of the pocky sticks slide into her rose, Squirtle's admirer opens her mouth, making a show of sliding the pretzel end in her incredibly soft, luscious lips; just seeing them puckered makes Squirtle gulp in fear and resignation. She then bites down and leans her face towards his, with a look that just *screams* 'Your turn, darling~'
Hope dies in the Water type's eyes. He has no choice! She has him trapped for good, no way of escape...all he can do is play by her rules.
He reluctantly takes a small bite. She takes a slightly larger one. He takes an even smaller one, trying to measure how much of the pocky stick he could eat in order to leave Roserade with as little space as possible. Little did he know, she had a trick up her sleeve...
In an instant, she closes the distance, scaring Squirtle into thinking she was just using the Pocky as an excuse to have fun with his mouth; but instead of covering half his face in her lips, she stopped.
Less than a centimeter away from Squirtle's mouth...
His heart sinks.
'Oh no, I lost...!'
Roserade stares down at him with a hungry look. Her victory is assured. Shutting his eyes in apprehension, Squirtle groans, purses his lips, and closes the gap...
*chu*
...What's more embarassing that losing, more embarassing than being tricked so easily, and more embarassing than kissing Roserade out of his own volition (debatably), is the fact that it isn't so bad. In fact—though Squirtle would never admit it to himself—he was actually kind of enjoying it—
*SMOOOOOOOOO-CH!*
—Then Roserade deepens the kiss for him, hugging him tighter against her breasts. Her massive lips smother him in wet, cloying heat. They're so soft and plump and juicy that his head sinks halfway into them. If his mouth were free from its routine violation, he'd groan again; of course it wasn't going to be that easy, of course it wasn't going to be that nice...the only good thing about the liplock is that it assuaged his fears of actually ENJOYING the forced affection Roserade is so prone to giving him.
*chuuuuu~* *pop~!*
Squirtle gasps for breath as the unwanted smooch ends, shivering a little at how cold the air felt against his now-damp face. Even from that (relatively) short kiss, he could taste a slight flavor of grass and sweetness on his lips.
"Uhuhu...what a great start to our game," Roserade cooes, licking her lips.
"W-what? What do you mean, 'start to our game'? Didn't I just lose...?"
"Oh, silly Squirtle~" she chuckles, "Did that box of Pocky look *empty* to you?"
She holds it up, showing off the remaining 11 sticks. Equal parts hope and dread filled Squirtle: hope that he could 'win' this kissing game, and dread that he had to smooch Roserade 11 more times...and possibly many more if he lost.
"Oh, what are we waiting for?! Let's start the next round~!" She declares, grabbing another pocky from the box. The bare end of the stick dangles just above her lips; she lowers it slightly, and licks the tip before slowly, deliberately sucking a it partway into her mouth.
"Ahhh...mmm~!"
Squirtle shudders and blushes horribly. Just watching the lurid display Roserade put on was so titillating that something started stirring 'downstairs', no matter if he didn't reciprocate her feelings for him.
This is going to be a *long* game...
Taking a bite of the chocolate end, Squirtle initiates his turn, trying not to stare too much at the plump, grassy kissers waiting to meet his mouth. It's hard, though; with each bite she takes, they draw inexorably nearer, and as he tries to get round 2 over as quickly as he can, they come close enough that their warmth and wetness becomes palpable to the helpless, tiny turtle. It's enough to trip him up. He takes one bite too small, and suddenly, Roserade draws most of the pocky stick into her mouth, leaving Squirtle no choice but to initiate the kiss, yet again. He grunts, discomfort filling him as she sucks on his face, trapping his lips against her much larger ones. When she hums in delight, her lips massage his skin in a strange way. Another nasty surprise greets him when she runs her thick, hot tongue against his mouth, prodding for entry.
Luckily, before she can break in and give him a deeper, richer kiss, she stops smooching him and pulls away. Squirtle gasps for air. He hadn't even realized how long that one lasted.
'Is she going to do it harder every time...?'
Rounds 3 and 4 fare better for the turtle pokemon; understanding that his reluctance is causing him to lose, and that playing too slow or too fast would give Roserade an opening, he steels himself and really thinks. And despite the distracting way she suckled on the pocky, he starts learning her moves. Round 3 ends with him barely gaining the upper hand, and 4 ends with him reading her next move easily. The next rounds don't seem as terrifying now that he's equal in points, and gaining an idea of her moveset made him more confident than ever. Not that he could enjoy his victory all that much, what with Roserade snogging him silly regardless of the outcome.
...Eventually, around round 6 (and 6 passionate, one-sided lip locks later), Squirtle realized something.
'Wait. If there's 12 Pocky sticks in total, and we both win 6 times...she's just gonna drag me to the store so she can buy another one! Then she'll make us play this game all over again, in public!'
Sweat beads on his brow. Now it isn't just a matter of win or lose...a tie would be even worse for him than being Roserades kiss toy and mount for the rest of the day! He had to make sure that wouldn't happen...but how?
'Oh no...am I really going to risk it?'
He stares at Roserade's green, puckered kissers, noticing just how lewdly they held the pocky stick trapped between them. It reminds him of what happens when she gets especially 'happy' to see him...
'No, I NEED to...!'
This round plays out like usual, with his heart racing quicker each time Roserade closes the gap, sucking and kissing the pocky like she usually does his face. Somehow, he manages to get the upper hand, and mindgames her into a losing position, even through the warmth and fuzziness clogging up his thoughts. She chuckles, and starts to bridge their lips together, when...
*smooch!*
"Mmph!"
Roserade is taken aback when she feels Squirtle's own lips smash into hers, pressing firmly and breaking off the last portion of pocky midway through what was originally her kiss. She realizes what just happened, and feels a surge of giddy excitement rush through her. She moans into him as they share the warmth of each other's mouths...only to feel a little disappointed when he breaks the kiss before her. Not that it's enough to dampen the euphoria of him kissing her so willingly.
"My my, just what was that, my adorable little turtle~? So brazen, so willing to take what's his...you've got this woman all flustered, you know~"
"U-uhh..." Squirtle cringes. That look on Roserade's face...it's so lustful, on the verge of animalistic—is she going to keep her word, or is she going to just take him right then and there? Already, he's beginning to feel like he had made a massive mistake. "I-I don't know what came over me. Should we call that a draw?"
"Sure~ Whatever you want, daaarling~" Roserade croons, "I might not have won, but that tasted better than any victory~!"
She beams at him as she sucks the tip of another pocky stick into her mouth, making sure to suck long, hard, and incredibly unsubtly before chomping down.
'Urk...let's hope this doesn't backfire on me...'
- - -
Several sultry smooches later, the duo only have one pocky left. The score is 5-5. This last round is the tiebreaker…and things aren’t looking too good for Squirtle. All the unwilling licking and slurping and lip-locking are taking their toll on his psyche—the slight poison in Roserade's lips and saliva is making his mind feel all weak, light, and dizzy. The amorous gaze he’s receiving isn’t helping things, either.
"Ooh," Roserade grins, "it looks like we're down to the last Pocky stick, darling~ Better make this one couuunt~"
But no matter how inebriated he is, Squirtle isn't going to lose. He just *can't*. Trembling, he steels himself and prepares to take the most precise bites he can.
He takes a small nibble. She engulfs a third of the stick in one go. If the ways she’s used that mouth on him are any indication, then doing anything less than chomping down mere centimeters from her swollen lips would lead to her winning, taking him home as her prize. He winces, closes his eyes, and prepares his gag reflex…
…and just
barely manages to close the distance in such a way that Roserade couldn't do anything but lose.
She looks shocked—then confused, then disappointed. As she sighs into the chocolate-flavored treat and sags her shoulders, Squirtle’s neck is once more engulfed in her melons. His erection twitches against her stomach, and she giggles, her sour mood disappearing as if it were never there in the first place. Her eyes lid mischievously…
When she delivers the last kiss of the game, smothering his mouth in her hot, heavy lip flesh, despite the embarrassment of his pleasure being known to her, despite how much of a trial this past half hour has been, he can't help but feel happy. He'd usually be infinitely embarrassed by it, but winning this little game and not having to deal with Roserade for the rest of the day made him feel like he was on top of the world. He didn't even have the heart to stop the kiss early. It would be unsportsmanlike, after all.
But that turned out to be his downfall...
Roserade turns her head slightly, forcing Squirtle's lips apart. His eyes bulge when her tongue slips into his mouth. Unfortunately, he's had to deal with this feeling before; but usually, her tongue wasn't as thick, or dripping as this. It slams down on his own tongue, stopping him from blocking its way and giving him more of an intimate taste that he never wanted. Then, something warm, thick, and gooey forces itself past her lips—Squirtle gasps as it fills his mouth. It's sweet, and tangy, and very rich in flavor., and he has no choice but to swallow it as it trails down Roserade's tongue and into the back of his throat. It goes down smoothly. Finally, Roserade ends the kiss with a wet *pop*, leaving his face covered in a moist, sticky kiss mark. The glob of mystery liquid bulges and travels down his throat, leaving a warm, tight sensation as it passes down into his stomach. It continues as he’s dropped from his place between the Grass type’s breasts and onto the forest floor.
All of a sudden, Squirtle's limbs become heavy. His head already feels light and fuzzy, and the sensation grows much stronger just seconds after he swallows the spit-poison concoction. A warmth that starts in his gut quickly spreads all over his body. He can will himself to not fall over, and nothing more than that.
"Hmmhmmhmm~! My adorable turtle...you’re free to go! Why aren’t you scurrying off like you always do after our little games?”
She tricked
me…! His mind is fuming, but his body surrenders to the sweet secretion that Roserade leaked into his mouth, his limbs failing him. He falls onto the ground, limp, impotent—except for one
particular part of him that is anything but…
"What was...in that…"
He can't finish his sentence, but Roserade knew what he was going to say anyway.
“Poor, silly Squirtle…you didn’t
really think I’d let you leave that easily, hmm?” she licks her lips lasciviously. Her prey’s arms flap uselessly. He can’t even get off his back! It’s
adorable! Her gaze is drawn towards the turtle’s soft, cute underbelly—and the massive erection standing tall and proud, straight up into the air. Pointing at
her. His eyes widen in fear as he follows her eyes and sees (and
feels) how unbearably hard he is.
“Oh
my~~~ Is this for me, darling?”
Roserade doesn’t wait for him to shake his head. She just lies down on her hands and knees, and lets a single, shiny drop of saliva trail from off the sumptuous curve of her lips and onto the head of his cock. It twitches so hard that it wobbles a little even after the liquid traces down his shaft.
That’s it. She can’t wait anymore…!
“A free toy to suck on…don’t mind if I do~” Squirtle gasps and winces, blushing furiously. That simple bead of spit has already made him delirious with pleasure…he can only stare in half horror, half arousal as his stalker’s mouth starts glowing, and those familiar green sparkles emit out of it.
N-no…not another Giga Drain…! A cry dies in his throat as she puckers up and leans down—her lips envelop him completely. He claws at the grass as she slurps him allll the way down to the base of his dick. Despite his misgivings, his hips thrust on their own. The vibrations of her laugh travel up and down his shaft. By the time she’s bobbed once, he’s reeling, eyes rolling to the back of his head, teeth biting his lip so hard he could swear he drew blood. Hot, electric ecstasy shoots through his body like thousands of tiny, pleasurable pins and needles, along with the dull, aching sensation he had grown to utterly detest: the feeling of his life force being sucked away…
Roserade pops up for a breath of fresh air, enjoying the emasculating whine her adorable boytoy makes when she’s no longer on his meat like a rabid Jynx. “Aww, don’t worry,
darling…I won’t leave this forest until we’re
both satisfied~”
…
Throughout the forest and throughout the night, the moans of a very tired, flustered turtle and his incredibly horny ‘lover’ echo—but not quite enough to reach back to his camp…
- - -
Chikorita wakes up to the sound of rustling leaves and broken branches. When she goes outside to make sure they’re not being ambushed, instead of being greeted with the sight of some opportunistic thieves, she sees her travelling buddy trying to sneak into his own tent before she could spot him. He’s too late. The glistening green kissmarks on his face and chest, the bruises on his body, and the way he limps slightly tell her all she needs to know: he ran into one of those weirdo stalker girls that like to feel him up…again.
Right as she opens her mouth to scold him, he cuts her off:
“Don’t. Tired. Need. Sleep.”
He promptly lumbers into the tent and passes out. She can hear him miss the covers and hit solid ground. She winces, then shakes her head.
“Told ya so, Squirtle…but you never listen.”
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