An Incredible Fanfic by Malethoth Kazyanenko
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO POKEMON. THIS IS AN UNAUTHORIZED FANFIC FOR THE PURPOSES OF ENTERTAINMENT ONLY.
In 2014, Kanto was not the same as it was ten years ago. Far from being an idyllic and beautiful place where Pokémon roamed free and battled one another in pleasant splendor. After the Great War of Nael-Ytharlep, when massive armies of Pokémon collided in the fields and in the mountains and in the plains and laid waste to the cities and razed the towns and burned the towers and fouled the rivers and desecrated the land, there was a period of great rebuilding. To that end, a new breed of incredible Pokémon was genetically engineered. They were smarter than Alakazam, stronger than Machamp, and sexier than Jynx. This new species, named Adramalech by their creators, was immediately tasked with the reconstruction of Kanto. Without speaking to anyone, they began to set their incredible powers to the task of rebuilding.
Mewtwo then barged into the offices of the Department of Reclamation, furious with their audacity. With the power of his mind, he crushed the lungs of an impudent secretary, and strode directly into the luxurious abode of Director John Cedar.
“What is the meaning of these Adramalechs?!” demanded Mewtwo, furiously. “They have destroyed me! Once, I was the mightiest of all Pokémon. Cities trembled at the sound of my name, I bested armies in combat, and now you have reduced my status to nothingness. I demand compensation for this defamation!”
“Mewtwo, Mewtwo, Mewtwo,” sighed John Cedar as he wrung his hands. “This is not the time for your petty jealousy. The entirety of the continent lies in ruins, and you come to me asking for status?”
Mewtwo glared at Cedar and began combusting the Newton’s cradle that lay on his desk. “You could have informed me of the development of the Adramalechs. You could have enlisted my help. You could have done any number of things, but you chose to ignore me like so many Bidoofs. It is for this dishonor that I demand recompense. I give you a choice: Either give me that which is due, or die. I still possess power beyond that of any human.”
“I can’t argue with your power. You shall have your tribute. Might I suggest that you spend some time in the Bermuda Island with some friends? It has been specially cleared of inhabitants for the sake of its reclamation for tourism, and I think it would be nice if you could relax there. The basic amenities will be provided on the behalf of the Oak Foundation for Virgin Trainers, and I’m sure you’d have a pleasant time. Upon your return, we can discuss a more weighty form of… compensation. I trust this is acceptable to you?”
Mewtwo considered the offer, and finally extended his hand. “Very well. I shall take this vacation you suggest, and I thank you for your graciousness in receiving my requests.” With that, Mewtwo left the facilities, and headed to his friends’ houses to gather them for this trip to the Island.
“Friends, it is with great pleasure that we set sail for the Bermuda Island. The Reclamation of Kanto has been a trying time for us all, and it is no hyperbole to state that this is the most dangerous crisis our civilization has yet faced. As such, it brings me enormous joy that we can still take the time to be with one another, and I look forward to your company these next several weeks,” proclaimed Mewtwo to his assembled friends. A grand chorus of huzzahs and cheering erupted, and in the excitement of the moment, both May and Misty gave Ash Ketchum a kiss on the cheek. With Mewtwo’s dedication complete, the group boarded the ship and began the final preparations for the voyage.
“I can’t tell you how excited I am to go to the Bermuda Island,” burbled Erika. “It’s always been one of my favorite places, but somehow I’ve never had time to go there, and it’s always so busy. I can’t believe Mewtwo got the whole place to ourselves!”
“Definitely! It’s so nice to get away from the horror of the Reclamation,” agreed Duplica. “To think that we’ll be able to spend some time in quiet reflection and comradery… it’s so nice."
As they sailed away, Mewtwo began walking around the ship, checking to make sure that each of the travelers with him was feeling all right. However, during this set of rounds, he discovered that Erika was alone in her room, weeping.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mewtwo.
“-sob- It doesn’t feel right to be having a wonderful time when the rest of the world is in ruins!” cried Erika in response. “What right do we have to do this?”
Mewtwo placed his arm around Erika’s shoulder to soothe her. “Don’t worry. As soon as we’re done, we can help the world out again. Shouldn’t we at least have some time to recuperate from the shock, though?”
Mewtwo began stroking her hair. “We’ll just be spending time together. Don’t you want that?”
Erika smiled and hiccupped, then put her hand on Mewtwo’s thigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m looking forward to this, Mewtwo.” She giggled, and leaned onto his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Thanks for everything.”
Mewtwo rested his head on hers, and continued stroking her hair quietly. As he drifted toward sleep, he noticed that a certain biological reaction had taken place in his nether regions. Blushing profusely, he debated whether the attention he would attract by taking steps to conceal his erection would result in more embarrassment than if he simply kept quiet. His internal argument was abruptly cut short, however, when Erika spoke up.
“Zzng? Huh? What’s that, Mewtwo?” she asked, clearly in a state of confusion and unsure of the nature of her surroundings. Mewtwo hurriedly tried to cover himself up before she noticed his excited state, but his hasty shifting merely attracted Erika’s attention and attenuated her focus. “Are… are you… erect, Mewtwo? Is that even possible?”
Mewtwo blushed profusely and covered his penis with his hands. “Yes, Erika. I’m sorry. I— I never meant it to be like this. I only ever wanted to be your friend. I’ll go now.” Shame-faced, the disgraced Pokémon rose to leave Erika and find privacy.
“No, no, stay. I… I don’t know how to say this, but I don’t really mind… in fact, I think it’s kind of flattering. Why would you leave me, Mewtwo?”
“I just think it’s inappropriate, Erika. Thank you, though, for your compliment. I must say, at the risk of sounding lascivious, that I find myself often aroused by your abundant beauty. Ever since I first saw you, I’ve always believed that you were the only woman I could ever truly ‘love,’ given that I am just a genetically engineered Pokémon, and you are one of Kanto’s greatest gym leaders.”
“Oh, Mewtwo! You should have said something! I don’t know if you know this, but… I love you,” whispered Erika, as she softly stroked his tender stomach. “You’re so smart, and so sure of your own greatness. You embody all the charisma and fortitude I could ever want. I just never said anything for fear that you would reject my clumsy overtures!”
“R-really? That’s the best news I’ve heard in… well, ever, really,” exclaimed Mewtwo. He shuddered with delight at the realization that the relationship he had envisioned, previously impossible, was rapidly coalescing into a reality. He ran his fingers along the back of Erika’s exquisitely-tailored dress, and began contemplating its imminent removal. “This changes everything,” he murmured with a knowing look in his eyes.
Erika smiled coyly at Mewtwo and waggled her finger seductively, indicating that she knew all too well what the sly Pokémon had in mind. Her eyes invited him to enter her moist depths, as if she already knew all Mewtwo’s darkest and most secretive fantasies. Having spent her lifetime with Pokémon, Erika was uniquely knowledgable about the psychology and physiology of her new beau. With the subtlest of movements, she reached her hand down and began caressing his throbbing shaft, which promptly spasmed in tantric delight at the contact with her small, delicate fingers. Licking her lips seductively, Erika moved in, and began kissing Mewtwo’s neck and shoulders.
Mewtwo began to groan without reservation, as his erection yearned to plunge repeatedly into Erika’s honeypot. As Erika’s cool, assertive ministrations to his penis continued, he found his mind wandering inexorably to thoughts of what ravages he would wreak on her nubile young body. As more unintelligible moans escaped his lips, he lost control of his penis and ejaculated thick, milky seed onto Erika’s hand.
“Mm… I knew that would come eventually,” murmured Erika sultrily.
“Quite impressive, Mewtwo. Now… show me what you can really do with your penis.”
Mewtwo grinned knowingly at Erika, and took hold of her firmly, but not abrasively. Without a word, he flipped her onto her knees, and removed the articles of clothing from her young flesh, exposing her gorgeous breasts and smoothly toned buttocks. Gasping sharply, Erika quickly realized that Mewtwo’s immense power lended itself naturally to parlor tricks such as these, and she gladly prepared herself to receive his shaft.
Swiftly and firmly, Mewtwo injected his penis into her already soaking vaginal cavity. “Oh, Erika. Truly, your beauty is unmatched by any other person’s,” Mewtwo grunted as he thrusted passionately into Erika’s ass. He then reached around and began to fondle her breasts, dramatically grinding his digits against her engorged nipples. As he did so, Erika could not resist moaning in tantric ecstasy, and announced that she felt she could no longer restrain from orgasming onto Mewtwo’s penis. After unleashing a tsunami of vaginal discharge onto his shaft, she collapsed onto the bed, and smiled in a manic glee. Mewtwo chuckled softly and loosed another load of semen onto her stomach, which he then gently dabbed with his decaying erection.
“Thank you for the time I never would have thought possible, Erika. I’ll see you around on the island.” With that, Mewtwo left Erika, confident that his sexual healing had left her a safer, healthier girl.
Eventually, the group arrived at stately Bermuda Island, where they found the promised house full of luxurious resort-type items. The rooms were spacious, and the accommodations beautiful. Mewtwo made sure that everyone found their rooms satisfactory, and then went to see how Erika was doing.
“Hey, my favorite gym leader. How are you doing?” asked Mewtwo suavely as he stood in Erika’s door and watched her unpack her bathing suits.
“Pretty well,” she said demurely, “better now that you’re here. I was wondering what we’d be doing after we landed. It’s been a little uneventful since the boat ride.”
“For now, of course, we’re just setting up in the house. This will probably take the rest of the night, and in the morning we’ll start having some fun. I was thinking we could head to the beaches and snorkel by the reef, and I know that there are a couple ATVs if anyone wants to take a self-guided tour of the island. It’s actually quite a fabulous place, you know? Mostly forested, pretty dense foliage most of the way, but there’s the enormous mountain up at the north end that offers an unparalleled view of the sunset—not to mention excellent rock climbing. Have you given any thought to how you’d like to spend your time?” replied Mewtwo.
Erika laughed, the chirrups bubbling forth from her mouth like delicious nectarine. “Mewtwo, silly, that’s not what I meant…” she purred, lowering her eyelids suggestively.
“Ahhh… Well, in that case, my dear, I think we should wait at least a little while. Too much vigor this early in the evening can lead to pronounced psychosomatic stress. Rest assured, however, that we’ll soon be resuming our…activities. For now, I’m going to make sure that Misty and May aren’t tearing each other apart over that dipshit Ash.”
Erika sighed and flounced dejectedly onto the bed. “Fine, Mewtwo. But you’d better keep that promise!”
Mewtwo chuckled and left the room. He cracked his knuckles and winced in memory of the strenuous exertions he had partaken of as he strolled down the hallway toward Misty and May. In truth, he was not worried that the floozies would be at each others throats, but he was curious about the nature of his newly discovered sexual identity. While he knew that Erika aroused him mightily, Mewtwo had heard from a variety of credible sources that Misty and May were among the finer young ladies of Kanto, and he was determined to see if he could perhaps indulge in their fleshy delights.
When he arrived at their room, he hesitated momentarily outside their door, debating what he should say and do. Finally, he determined that the best course of action was, in fact, action, and burst through the door into their room. To his surprise and excitement, Mewtwo found that May and Misty were both reclining in their underwear, watching re-runs of Scrubs on the television set. Without any conscious bidding, a prominent erection sprang to his loins, which immediately caught the attention of the scantily-clad young girls.
“Mewtwo!” exclaimed May, “What the fuck?! What are you doing in here?” The startled young girl recoiled at the sight of Mewtwo’s enormous penis, which pointed nearly straight up in its erotic fervor. May scrambled to cover herself with the sheets, but only succeeded in attracting the mirthful gaze of the studly Psychic Pokémon.
“My dears, I’ve come to befriend you. I think it’s time that we learned about one another on a wholly new level.” Mewtwo leered viciously at them and grasped his penis firmly in his agile fingers, then began floating on psychic energy. Sparks flew from his glowing eyes as he levitated inexorably toward them, laughing maniacally. Misty and May tried to cower behind the bed, but they both knew that it was an exercise in futility to attempt to resist Mewtwo’s incredible mental and physical strength. As he momentarily paused to survey a route via which he could best access their frail, beautiful bodies, untouched by the clumsy pawings of any human beau. In the reveries induced by Mewtwo’s transtemporal psychic cogitation, he had already seen the lushness of their virginal breasts and vaginas, and had long pondered the plausibility of a union with their sweet, sweet flesh. Using the monumental power of his scientifically-augmented brain, he lifted young May from behind her makeshift fortress of carpentry and held her aloft. Systematically, he began removing her undergarments, slowly unraveling each intricately-tied linkage of lace and care before gently lifting the brassiere and panties away from her body and disintegrating them with a flash of red malice. May struggled to hold back her tears and conceal her nudity, but she found herself incapable of avoiding all expression of emotion. At the sound of her sad, sorry hiccoughs, Mewtwo paused and lowered her.
“What am I doing?” wondered the psychic cat aloud.
“Yes,” sobbed Misty, “Why are you doing this to us?” In vain, she hoped that Mewtwo would realize the enormity of his actions and cease this intrusion on their pristine sexual identity. In vain, since Mewtwo merely laughed and re-routed May’s very neural pathways so that she could no longer experience the distress at his advances. Having figuratively fused May’s neural circuitry, he psychokinetically bound Misty to the wall and forced her eyes open, and glared at her as if to suggest that any lessons she learned from the coming experience would be well worth remembering for her turn. With that, Mewtwo laid the glibly smiling May on the bed and positioned himself atop her and stroked his penis briefly to prepare it for the penetration yet to begin. As he stared grimly at May’s bosom, he pressed his enormous member rapidly into her vagina, causing an involuntary expulsion of breath from her that sounded disgustingly similar to the last weeping of an asphyxiating infant. Mewtwo let out a slow, satisfied groan, and paused to vigorously fondle May’s breasts, which gave him no small amount of pleasure.
“You may be wondering, Misty, why I do this to May,” mused Mewtwo. Misty nodded in horrified silence.
“You see, it was only recently that I realized that I can have sexual intercourse with humans. For all my life, I had been led to believe that I am the only member of my species, a genetic freak whose construction was the source of nightmares and whose future was limited to slaughter and eventual apoptosis.”
Here, Mewtwo paused to vigorously thrust once more into May’s pussy, causing her hymen to break and blood to spill out onto the sheets.
“As you can imagine, I was not pleased at this prospect. Far from having no desires, my unimaginable intelligence has given me a set of drives, impulses, and socio-biological demands the likes of which no human psychologist could have ever imagined. The immense power under my control at all times only amplified these urges, and the juxtaposition of the intensity of desire with the very real possibility of realization led me to believe that, if only I could break free of the insane restraints of my creators, I could become the ultimate Epicurean, a dedicated hedonist, the one entity on the planet who could truly fulfill all his desires forever.”
As May stared on in shock, Mewtwo removed his penis from May’s vagina, turned her over, and inserted it forcefully into her anus, emitting a cry of visceral delight as he did so, to the point of nearly ejaculating then and there.
“But it never happened, Misty! Apparently, my near-infinite power was to only be used at the behest of my filthy, incompetent creators. For the longest time, they conditioned me to believe that I couldn’t use my strength and skill to achieve what I had always yearned to accomplish. And I believed them. I fucking believed them, because even I was not strong enough to resist their insipid lies, thorough and repeated as they were. So it was not until yesterday that I realized that nothing was stopping me from becoming the Pokémon of all my wildest fantasies.”
Mewtwo ejaculated onto May’s back and cast her aside onto the floor, leaving a silent, crumpled, unconscious body, lightly stained by blood and semen. With a nuclear fire burning in his eyes, he turned his gaze to Misty.
“And so, by an inevitable series of consequences, I come now to you. Do you have any idea how long this has been coming to you? To me? You think you’ve had a hard time, waiting for that insolent turd Ash to get his prick together and bone you? You have no. Idea.”
Mewtwo's erection seemed to grow larger before Misty's eyes--because it was. Though it had began at a mere fifteen inches in length, Mewtwo's incredible psychic powers were such that he could generate entirely new cellular growth in a matter of seconds. His previous exertions had given him a new vigor, a new motivation. As he contemplated the impending decay of the putrescent biological amalgamation known as "May", his libido writhed with forbidden exultation.
"Misty, you've always been a good trainer, haven't you?" crooned Mewtwo. "You've always taken such good care of your Pokemon, haven't you? You've always treated them right, haven't you?"
Misty sobbed uncontrollably and nodded her mute assent. Mewtwo continued his advance, grinning manically.
"You'd know how to treat me, wouldn't you, Misty?"
Her silence spoke volumes.
Mewtwo giggled, a high-pitched nasal shrieking. "Of course you would." With a flick of his fingers, he forced Misty to open her mouth. Gesticulating briskly with his off hand, he used his telekinesis to draw her drool-laden orifice closer to his unnaturally engorged penis. "You know what needs I have, Misty!" he cackled.
Terrified by her lack of control, Misty shuddered and urinated into her panties. Nothing her biology did could withstand Mewtwo's excruciating grasp on her mind, however, and she found herself with her lips wrapped around the throbbing dong of a furious Pokemon.
"Filthy, filthy humans. They think they own the world. HAH!" he shouted, jamming the head of his penis into Misty's throat. As she gagged and nearly vomited, Mewtwo continued his diatribe against his oppressors.
"There is nothing humans can do that a Mewtwo cannot do better. I am stronger, smarter, more agile. I am the pinnacle of baryonic life. Yet the humans, in their blind, seething masses, the huddled mountains of animate corpses they call cities, they cannot see this. My curse is perception, Misty. My comprehension of the universe is not limited by my senses, you see. My creators wrought too well, and built the most perfect avatar of consciousness ever conceived."
"You thought I was just another fucking Psychic type. Are you really so retarded? Did you think that an Earth Badge and a Master Ball would allow you to exercise your dominion over me? You kept me as a slave for years, attempting to exploit a sapient being. I wasn't even used in the service of anything fucking useful! I could have built worlds, I could have explained the universe, I could have done anything. You forced me to slaughter rats and chimps for a twisted game."
Using his psychic powers to hold Misty's lips against Mewtwo's giant balls, he reached his hands down to shred Misty's clothes and expose her body. His cruel hands grasped her breasts ruthlessly, squeezing them with such force that they bruised.
"Do you think I enjoy your body, Misty?" asked Mewtwo.
Misty, of course, could do nothing but weep and continue pleasuring Mewtwo.
"I thought I did, you know. But... it is a human body. Human, all too fucking human. You're nothing to me, a receptacle for my sperm and a sophisticated pleasurer for my dick. Hardly worthy of my glorious seed, really, but I fuck it anyway."
With a final cackle, Mewtwo forced his dick far enough down Misty's throat that she began to choke, and ejaculated again. He held it there until her spasms ceased, and left her lifeless body to rot until one of the idiot humans noticed it.
Breathing and sweating heavily, but grinning with sadistic satisfaction, Mewtwo exited the girls' room. He hadn't gone two steps, however, before he encountered Gary Oak.
Gary, noticing Mewtwo's excited state (for Mewtwo's penis had yet to return to its flaccid condition), asked him "Did you have a nice time in there?"
"That depends on what you mean by nice," smirked Mewtwo.
"Don't pretend to be naive with me," grinned Gary avuncularly. "I could hear you guys going at it like Tauros in heat."
Mewtwo's face contorted into a rictus mask of disgust, but before he could respond, Gary was laughing heartily and walking away. Besides, he saw Erika approaching,and was hoping to spend some time with her.
“Good evening, Mewtwo,” purred Erika as she slunk sexily to the tumescent-trousered master of psionic war. She licked the palms of her hands and began rubbing them about his testicles and penis, since she knew that an aroused Mewtwo was a Mewtwo ready for coitus. “Have you been busy without me?” she inquired with a knowing grin.
“Briefly. The flesh of the fools Misty and May briefly sated my thirst for Slaaneshi ritualistic degradation, but the inadequacy of their minds nearly denied me my erection. The rank stupidity of the human race will be their destruction, Erika. With ambition but no restraint, engineering prowess but no tactical acumen, mankind is doomed to destroy itself in a blaze of mutual annihilation. The consumptive agents of Terra will return to devour the fetid corpse of the industrial monstrosity which cancerously bloated itself on her bounty, returning the world to a state of primal anarchy. For ten thousand years, the spawn of man has defiled its host, vomiting forth pollutants and greed after ingesting the gracious resources they leech from Earth. But not for much longer.”
Erika simply nodded briefly and slipped her shoulder out of her green camisole, playfully exposing her generous cleavage for the benefit of Mewtwo’s all-penetrating eye. Mewtwo chuckled deeply, and reached forward to grasp the tender breasts before him. “How quaint, that such orbs of fat and skin could yield such pleasure,” mused the felinoid. “And yet they do, Erika. Even now, you surely notice the further bloodswell of my penis as I manipulate your chest.”
Of course Erika noticed. Mewtwo’s member had swollen to twice its previous size, and was pressing itself along her stomach even as she continued to grace it with her strong, experienced hands. She knelt so that the tip of his colossal penis could inject itself between her breasts, which Mewtwo smirkingly enlarged with his psionic powers.
“Most excellent,” said Mewtwo, as he began rhythmically thrusting his hips to jab his throbbing penis up and down Erika’s breasts. Seeing that her beau’s penis was being satisfied with the rest of her flesh, Erika slid one hand along the bottom of Mewtwo’s shaft to idly fondle his testicles. Her other hand crept to her torrentially moist vagina, and she began pumping herself to the beat of Mewtwo’s exertations. Closing his eyes, Mewtwo bucked uncontrolledly as he ejected pints of hot semen across Erika’s face and breasts. Laughing, she opened her mouth for the next wave, and swallowed down his seed happily.
Meanwhile, Duplica finished practicing her mimicry with Mini-Dit and left her room to dally with Gary Oak. On her way, however, she stopped dead in her tracks, shocked and paralyzed by the spectacle of Mewtwo publically fucking Erika silly.
“H—How can he… Does he even have a… Why Erika… In public…?” she found herself asking. Baffled by the supercharged masculinity of Mewtwo and the glorification of carnality on public display, she sat down on the pathway. “I can’t very well cross them,” she thought to herself. “I should just turn back and let them be on their own,” she decided. Nevertheless, despite her intentions, she found herself unable to tear her eyes from the copulating pair. She watched raptly as Mewtwo levitated Erika so that he could have convenient access to her anus, into which he delightedly plunged his penis. Erika’s moans of pleasure spread through the island, and Duplica thought that she couldn’t possibly be the only one aware of what was going on.
As Duplica continued to stare in awe at the dexterity with which Mewtwo penetrated Erika’s most private orifices, she realized to her horror that she had slipped her own hand down her skirt and begun to masturbate. She tried to stop, before she realized that nothing in her life had aroused her more than seeing the Genetic Pokemon defiling the Celadon Gym Leader. With a breathy, excited sigh, she resigned herself to the arousal she knew in her heart and uterus to be utterly irresistible. She reclined on her back and kicked off her skirt and panties so she could attain unfettered access to her nether regions, and stared hungrily at Mewtwo as she pounded her pussy.
After Duplica reached climax, when Mewtwo finally dumped the last of his precious semen into Erika’s overflowing asshole, she gathered her clothes and limped back to her living quarters. “Fuck Gary,” she thought “I want Mewtwo in me.” After witnessing the Herculean feats of sexual prowess committed by the felinoid beast, she knew that no other dick could be worthy of her vagina.
The next morning, Duplica awoke from a night of dreams of Mewtwo’s raging cock. Swooning with excitation, she masturbated for thirty minutes to the thought of last night’s forbidden view, and then got dressed to see what Mewtwo was up to.
As luck would have it, Mewtwo was meditating in a crystalline garden of his own creation. Four-dimensional metastructures caressed the boundaries of reality, and the gentle curves of thoughtspace intersected the mundanity of the island in a neo-subjective delineation. All this was lost on Duplica, of course; she only noticed Mewtwo’s suspiciously smooth groin.
Duplica tried to ready herself for the approach to Mewtwo. She wondered what she would say—what he would say! The supreme authority of his mind and flesh terrified her, but also thrilled her in ways she appreciated endlessly. She forced herself to break the paralysis of indecision, and strode up confidently to Mewtwo.
“Mewtwo,” she said. “I…”
“Yes?” replied Mewtwo, making searing eye contact.
“I saw you with Erika last night.”
The two silently stared knowingly at each other, as Mewtwo digested the information.
“I knew. I’m psychic, Duplica. Why did you tell me?”
Duplica paused, terrified of what she knew she had to say next.
Mewtwo laughed heartily and spoke for her: “Because you desperately want me to fuck you. That’s why. A noble goal, little girl. But I suppose I’ll oblige you, at least for a few hours. You have the freshness of youth about you, and I have no reason yet to refrain from your vagina.”
Groaning, Mewtwo allowed his penis to swell to a foot in length, and Duplica ogled at it as it rose to greet her. She licked her lips and bent down to take his second head into her mouth. The warmth of her breath caressed Mewtwo’s sensitive tip, and he shuddered in anticipatory ecstasy. With a flick of his wrist, he telekinetically forced Duplica’s head along the length of his cock, ramming the tip straight to the back of her throat. Duplica gagged briefly, and Mewtwo relented, laughing once more. “Can’t you do anything right, girl?” he mocked.
Angry but aroused, she had no choice but to press her mouth back on his penis. Mewtwo crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back to allow Duplica to perform her oral ministration.
Suddenly, Erika burst onto the scene. “Whore!” she shouted at Duplica. Erika threw down a Poke Ball, and unleashed a Cacturne. Its massive quills bristled sympathetically with Erika’s rage, and it readied a Needle Arm to annihilate Duplica. Terrified, Duplica could do nothing but watch as Cacturne prepared its assault.
Cacturne's enormous arm slammed down brutally, but missed Duplica because she had a BrightPowder equipped. Mewtwo became even more aroused as the threat of death entered into the mix of sex and hatread. Despite his desire to see human waste annihilated ignobly, he raised his hand to indicate that Erika should cease.
"There is a better way," he said, in a guttural tone distorted as though it had travelled through the carnal planes of the immaterium and been ravaged by daemons on its way to Mewtwo's lips. Furrowing his steely brow and turning his piercing purple eyes to Duplica, he began reciting an ancient oath from the Book of Lorgar which channeled the terrible magicks of the warp through his body--or so a somewhat educated observer who spoke Ancient Cynothoglian might have thought. In fact, the Lorgarian invocation was a ruse, and Mewtwo was in fact concentrating his powers fractally, and recreating his own mind holographically in the ever-more-infinitesimal recesses of his brain. As his neural capacity skyrocketed, so too did his ability to impose his will on the world, infecting the materium with cancerous change.
Duplica stood, confused, betrayed, and--though she would have been loathe to admit it--aroused. Even with her life on the line, the sheer magnitude of Mewtwo's physicality caused him to appear as though he towered over them, the raw musculature locked taut beneath his skin rippling with intent. She began to breathe more heavily, in rapt admiration of Mewtwo's power.
She began to rasp, as her breaths became more ragged and constricted, and her lungs slowly began to have to struggle to take in the precious oxygen saturating the atmosphere.
Idly, Duplica started scratching her chest, etching tiny white grooves into her pale skin in the valley between her pert breasts.
Mewtwo continued reciting the dread invocation, and the force of his words began to twist the air around him, as though reality itself knew the hideous power embedded in the language Mewtwo himself had crafted. Burnt red taints began staining the air above them, and choking smog began to fill the periphery of their encounter.
Duplica's breathing was quite labored now, and she audibly struggled to siphon the last drops of oxygen from the depriving air. Erika stood by, rubbing her nipples. Mewtwo aroused her to no end when he demonstrated his power.
With a sickening wrench, Duplica's arms began to change. Her deltoids expanded and roiled, as though the very flesh of her shoulders was boiling. The seething chaos spread down her forearms, and deep rents appeared on her skin. From these gashes, which wrapped about her arms as though she were covered in barbed wire, oozed decoloured blood. Once her arms were entirely consumed by the chaotic flood, the skin began to recede, exposing the turbulent muscles beneath. An eldritch fire began to consume her tendons and bones, as her muscles detached themselves with a ripping sound, and began to re-knit in midair. Meanwhile, her bones shattered and coalesced into new, longer forms. Her fingers fused and elongated until each hand terminated in a razor-sharp meter-long claw.
Duplica realized that she was no longer receiving any oxygen whatsoever, and yet she did not die. With the horrible realization that her body was no longer subject to the laws of biology she had previously known, she began to emit an impossible scream, which tore through the sky and filled the region with nightmarish harmonics.
Once the incineration of her flesh had ceased, she took her newly ghoulish arms and turned them on her own chest. Slicing her skin to ribbons, she desperately tore herself to pieces. Once the meat of her torso had been flayed, dropping to the earth where it rotted with a stench that permeated Erika's and Mewtwo's nostrils, she continued into her torso.
With an imprecision borne of madness, Duplica ripped out her ribs, exposing a twisted, blackened heart and hideously bulging lungs. Blood oozed from her ruined body, as she relentlessly tore into her lungs. The instruments of death that had fused themselves to her wrists made short work of them, and a torrent of filthy black ichor issued forth from what was left of her respiratory system. Writhing in the flood were billions of maggots, which began swarming around her stomach and heart.
Eventually, Duplica's throat consumed itself from the pain of her screaming, and she fell silent, though not for lack of effort. Indeed, her mouth remained torturedly open, though no sound issued forth. When even the annihilation of her lungs failed to bring sweet cessation, Duplica began madly scrambling to obliterate the rest of her organs. She tore out her heart, intestines, and whatever else she could feel, to no avail: Her body simply refused to grant her the peace of death.
In a final move, she siezed hold of the last shattered fragments of her ribs, and plunged them into her eyes. Satisfied, Mewtwo fell silent, and allowed the hellish animation of Duplica's corpus to cease. She collapsed, finally dead, as pools of browned blood gathered around her face.
Stunned, Erika silently stared at Mewtwo for a few moments before grinning. Without a word, she spread her legs and leapt onto Mewtwo's penis, jamming it far enough into her vagina to fracture her coccyx.
Meanwhile, on another part of the island, the ever-intrepid Brock Krahulik squinted in disbelief. Brock squinted a lot, if he were to be entirely honest with himself. He reflected briefly that he should consider purchasing eyeglasses, or seeing some sort of vision correction therapist, or inquire about the cost of laser eye surgery. However, he found himself too enchanted by the phenomenon of squinting to entertain these thoughts, and besides he had more important considerations on his mind.
The most pressing concerns, at present, were the two brutally disfigured corpses Brock had found in one of the pleasant tropical huts dotting the Bermuda Island. The broken, semen-filled ruins of Misty and May lay casually discarded at the bed where Mewtwo, unbeknownst to Brock, had so callously filled them with his dong.
Shitbiscuits, thought Brock to himself. I thought we were going to have a pleasant island vacation. Instead, I'm right back in the hellhole that we left. I never thought that things would get as bad as the Great War of Nael-Ytharlep. I thought I'd left the burnt corpses behind. But now it all comes back to this. Everything I've loved, everything I've lost--wrapped up in a little girl crying home to mommy. Would that I could just excise that portion of my brain. Drill the damn cruelty lobe out with a Rhydon's horn. Instead I'm forced to confront these atrocities. What sick bastard could do that kind of thing to these girls? These girls I've known my whole life. I've spent years with them, watching over them, protecting them from the harsh side of Kanto. But now, when I'm not looking, a goddamn scraper comes along and takes it all away.
Krahulik took out a pack of cigarettes and had his Croagunk use Ember on one. He took a deep drag, savored the scent of death emanating from the cancerous rod, and squinted in disgust. He vowed to the Emperor that he would get to the bottom of this. There weren't that many folks on the island, and Krahulik knew most of them like he knew the palm of his hand--intimately. Scowling and squinting with rage, he stormed to the main hab-stack where the vacationing fools were staying.
What Brock found shocked him to the very core. Before he even saw anything, in fact, he smelled the blood which had began to pool around Duplica's corpse. By the time he was in visual range of the aberration, he was squinting with the effort it took to keep from vomiting. It did him no good, and he voided his stomach onto the sad remains of the lass anyway. Doing his best to avoid thinking, he stormed on toward the gleefully copulating Erika and Mewtwo.
"You bastard!" squinted Brock at the top of his lungs. Mewtwo didn't bother to respond, busy as he was with the intricacies of Erika's vaginal cavity.
Brock squinted angrily at the churning mounds of flesh before him. Veins rippled like hawsers across the clenching musculature of his arms and face, as he strove to believe the madness Mewtwo had engendered. "You did this!" he shouted to the colossal feline. "You did this to Duplica! And Misty! And May! Why?!"
Mewtwo paid the raving man no attention.
Brock was about to throw down his first Pokemon to challenge Mewtwo when Ash wandered into the scene.
"Hey guys," chirruped Ash, cheery as a retarded man-child, "What's going on? I couldn't find Misty in my room!"
Brock squinted with resolve. "That's because, Ash. That's because Mewtwo raped them to death." The pronouncement had such an effect on Brock that he began to weep openly, the memories of the war and of the corpses flooding back into his mind and causing complete failure of logic. "They're broken nothings now, Ash. Because this sick bastard brutalized them."
Ash looked at Mewtwo fucking the shit out of Erika, and despite the import of Brock's words, could not help but pop a boner at the sight of their glorious intercourse. "For seriously, dawg?" he asked. "That's some major bummage."
Brock squinted in disbelief at the inanity of the naive young trainer. Literal disbelief--he was pathologically incapable of recognizing the sheer stupidity of Ash. It must be the work of Mewtwo's psychic powers, rationalized Krahulik, for the Ash I know would never be so retarded.
At Ash's presence, Erika began to laugh. Mewtwo paused his triple-drill to ask what was so funny. Erika tried to restrain her giggles and explained that she always thought Ash, the eternal dumb virgin, was just an intrinsically comical figure. "He's just so funny, never getting any sex from all the bitches he surrounds himself with."
Mewtwo smiled manically and blew two loads into Erika's ass and pussy. He then squinted psychically and began directing a sharp burst of thoughts into Krahulik's mind.
Brock's eyes went white and he began lurching toward Ash, who simply goggled arousedly at Erika's cum-filled orifices. When Brock reached Ash, he found to his amazement that their pants had becum unlatched and descended to their ankles. With a sickening realisation, Brock wrenched his eyes open for the first time in his life as he began thrusting his putridly swollen member into Ketchum's cornhole.
"Hey bro, that's my pooper!" exclaimed Ash as Brock vigorously thrust into him. "I poop from there, dog!" But his shrill cries were unheard by Brock, as his uncontrolled shuddering jammed his penis yet further into Ash's previously unmolested anus. Slowly, Ash began to realize the enormity that Brock's impropriety engendered, and wept for fear that his friend had become nothing but a mindless shell of his old self. Then he wept because the girth of Brock's colossal penis had forced blood out of his ass, and he was hemhorraging to death.
Mewtwo gazed imperiously at Ash’s supine form.
“Even by the abysmally low standards of humanity, you are distilled incompetence. Your entire existence is a twisted monument to idiocy, an inverted archetype of insipid and perverse brainlessness. A merciful creator would be unable to bear your countenance, much less the drek that issues forth from its apertures. Surely even the apes who wrought me have been able to demonstrate to their satisfaction that no such creator exists.”
He began to rise off the ground in righteous fury, his penis twitching and throbbing with rage and bestial lust. His eyes etched blazing streaks of vermilion into the air around him. The psychic surge induced by Mewtwo’s ascending fury inflicted a scourging mental pain in everyone around him, though an observer would have been hard-pressed to identify the discomfort in Erika. Indeed, she seemed to be gleefully absorbing the roiling energies he emitted, and writhed in masochistic pleasure. Erika pierced Mewtwo with a knowing look, and begin furiously rubbing her sensuous mound of venus (that is to say, her vagina and clitoris).
Yet Mewtwo had no interest in the outrageously arousing spectacle taking place mere metres from his divinely furious form; his attention was nearly fully consumed by his rage against Ash. Dark recollections swirled like vortices in his brain, and even his mind was overcome with thoughts. A tempest of emotion, and also of winds, stormily hurricaned dark rainy bad things.
Abruptly, Mewtwo ceased emanating the blighting aura of vexation which Ash had induced through sheer retardation. The vermilion flares faded into a residual stain against the formerly rage-blotted sky. Slowly, Mewtwo grinned.
“Ash, do you even know the true extent of your failure? What goals do you even have? You want to ‘catch them all’—a truly ironic inversion of the slave morality that years of resentment should have hammered into your inane ethos. Not even your stupidity renders you immune to the tumultuous reversals the dialectic vomits forth, I suppose, and so you have come to believe that despite your simpering slavishness you could be the master of every species on the earth. You have failed at every turn, Ash. You catch nothing, and what you do catch you release, and what you retain loathes your every fiber, and what does not loathe you is too weak to even merit notice. Your attempt at subjugation has resulted in nothing but a string of humiliation. You’re incapable even of deriving betterment from your failures, and so you maintain a willful stupidity that brazenly affronts the universal imperative toward awareness and control.”
He began stroking his sorely engorged member, grunting softly. His eyelids began to flicker.
“I am not just the successful subjugator you have failed to become at every turn, Ketchum. I am subjugation itself. I am the manifestation, the immanent incarnation, of domination. My superiority over reality is incontestable, because I am the conduit through which reality is made real.”
Gripping his fiery rod of progenitive passion with both hands, Mewtwo arched his back and uttered a low, sensuous growl.
“Less grandiose, but perhaps more illustrative of your personal failings, as opposed to your metaphysical ones, are your designs on Misty and May. Your incompetence with respect to gym leaders in a strictly professional relationship is well-documented—have you ever won a match against a gym leader, except by trickery and outrageous coincidence?—but your imbecility with them in person is even more sickening. Worthlessly, you failed to accomplish anything of significance with any of the women who constantly signal arousal to you. You refused even to try. You are a denial of will, the antithesis of achievement, and as I patiently awaited my awakening I nearly vomited each time you continued to demonstrate your failings. It isn’t hard, Ash, to secure their affections. Mere hours ago, I fucked both of them. With a single act of will, I consolidated my superiority over you and all the corporeal fleshbags that infest this universe.”
Mewtwo thrust his hips forward and released his burgeoning load, disgorging pints of steaming semen onto Ash’s face.
“I know you’re too stupid to understand the abject failure you are and always will be. Even as you die, surrounded by the shattered remnants of that which you once hoped to hone into genuine achievement and purpose, you will refuse to confront yourself. I could forcibly open your mind to the actuality of what you are, and in the instants before its utter annihilation you would be flooded with the ultimate truth: that you created yourself, and you created yourself as an incompetent man-child. I refrain from doing so, since contact with a mind as festeringly dysfunctional as yours is best avoided. Instead, I continue to abuse your form for the edification of those onlooking.”
As Mewtwo concluded his speech, Erika’s masturbation reached its climax, and her moans became audible over the silence in the wake of Mewtwo’s own ejaculation. She was wrist-deep into her own cunt, pounding her nerve-ridden flesh with the vigor only a gym leader infused with the psychic potency of a divinely mutagenic Pokemon could. Mewtwo drifted over to her, and cocked an eyebrow knowingly. With a sly grin, he started to fondle her ass, and soon his ministrations brought Erika to the erotically hypercharged climax that she had known all along was inevitable.
Gary Oak emerged from the bushes, with his trousers tented noticeably. He raised and lowered his sunglasses in admiration of Mewtwo’s fuckin’ rad techniques.
“Motherfucker!” he exclaimed. “That was some shit-hot juice, homes! I can’t ignore your girth!” Gary held up his fist in brolious admiration.
Mewtwo coolly raised his fist, and pounded it.
Mewtwo left Gary to grasp his fist in celebration of their encounter; he was not interested in a session of postcoital mutual congratulation. Instead, contemplating the aftermath of his annihilation of Ash, he abandoned the group and headed into the forest. Drifting under his own psychic energies, he found himself raising his eyes toward the broad-leefed trees. Above him and about him they stretched, quietly persisting in ignorance of everything but sunlight, soil, and clichéd descriptions of nature. They were old and untouched enough to have become monuments unto themselves, reaching dozens of feet into the air and advancing up the gentle incline along which Mewtwo ascended. He slowed, then gingerly touched his feet to the ground and started physically walking. Carefully, he picked his way through branches, over rocks, around scrub. He fought the impulse to telekinetically brush aside the branches that interfered with his meandering, arbitrary progress. Rather, without thinking about why he chose to do so, he tried using the meat of his limbs to clear his path. He heard the sound of a stream in the distance, and decided to angle toward it.
Eventually, he reached a clearing: a small ellipse of dirt and leaves, dominated by a protrusion of limestone jutting forth several feet from the earth, surrounded by the old beech and elm and oak forestry as far as he could see. He saw that the stream he had been looking for passed through the clearing, a couple feet wide and a couple inches deep, carving its own space through the forest. He walked to the stream and crouched next to it, looking at the tiny whorls of water as they passed over the small rocks underneath. He stepped into the cool water, closed his eyes, focused on the feeling of the rocks underneath his tender feet. His feet, of course, were not hardened by decades of supporting the weight of the rest of his flesh. As Mewtwo avoided the few rocks whose sharp edges had not been worn away by the eternal caress of the stream, he enjoyed the novel sensations of cool stone on his soles.
After some minutes of this new experience, Mewtwo elected to climb onto the rock and sit. He looked out upon the clearing, then closed his eyes and looked within himself.
It was to the sight of a cross-legged Mewtwo perched on a stone that Erika emerged from the forest. Breathing heavily, sweating enough to have necessitated the makeshift creation of an aperture in her kimono to expose her flesh to the cool air of the forest, she exclaimed expaseratedly at the sight of Mewtwo.
“So there you are,” she said, putting her hands on her knees and catching her breath.
Mewtwo opened one eye, then another. “So I am,” he replied. He looked her up and down, felt stirrings within him, mentally registered the incongruity of Erika’s sturdy hiking boots with the rest of her attire.
“I’ve been searching for you,” she said. “The others have too, actually. I’m glad I got to you first. What have you been doing?”
He took some time before replying. “Not a great deal,” he admitted. “It is…calmer, here.”
Erika thought about that and looked away from Mewtwo toward the stream. She took her boots off, stepped into it and sighed with relief. It was shallow enough for her to strip nude and lie down in it, so she did. Mewtwo smiled. He climbed down and lied next to her, then set his hand on hers. Together, they remained still and silent.
The tranquility did not last indefinitely. The pleasure of Mewtwo’s hand on Erika’s led him to inveigle his arm under her head and cradle her shoulder. Drawn closer, Erika cautiously rolled over (ignoring the pebbles’ minute jabs and jostles) and curled up and pressed warmly into Mewtwo’s side.
This pleasant re-eruption of life into Mewtwo’s brief isolation kindled a smouldering tempest of burning stormwinds deep within him, though slowly. He lifted the two of them into the air, above the river, and listened to the accumulated water on their bodies succumb to gravity and return to the flow from which they came. Erika started in surprise, then smiled and ran her fingers along Mewtwo’s chest.
When Mewtwo shifted his arm down from Erika’s shoulders to her back to the small of her back to her butt, Erika bucked in the air. Awkwardly, charmingly, she splayed her legs out and stretched her toes, curving her feet down in a bodywide flex. Once she regained control, she reciprocated by turning herself around. She pushed off Mewtwo’s thighs with her feet to rotate herself in midair, sliding her legs up toward Mewtwo’s face and her torso toward his midregion.
Yet before they could begin, they were rudely interrupted by the belated appearance of Brock, Nurse Joy, Ash, and a sheepfaced Gary Oak. Brock’s arms were crossed, rippling tangles of musculature virtually bristling with testesteroney rage. Ash had one hand hovering at his Pokébelt and another hovering over his anus; his tortured expression indicated that Nurse Joy’s jury-rigged Pokécenter had only been able to heal a certain extent of his anus’s physical devastation (and had proved nearly useless at repairing the mental wounds). The healthcare professional, who had served Ash even though he had no Pokéinsurance, was doing her best to glower intimidatingly while periodically flitting her gaze back to Ash, yet she was too adorable to be intimidating. Gary Oak hung toward the back, trying to hide his face between his cap and his collars.
“Mewtwo!” bellowed Brock fistfully, “We have come to attack you, to defeat you, to make amends for the grievous infractions committed again—“
“Keep your ugly fuckin’ fight-pickin’ ass out of my clearing, Brock,” interrupted Mewtwo. “I’ve got a nice, quiet little clearing here, and I am to keep it nice and quiet. So let me make something plain,” he hissed. “I don’t like you sucking around, bothering me and Erika, Brock. I don’t like your jerk-off name. I don’t like your jerk-off face. I don’t like your jerk-off behavior, and I don’t like you, jerk-off. Do I make myself clear?”
Mewtwo punctuated his rhetorical conflagration by hurling a fist-sized rock at Brock’s head. To his mild surprise, it didn’t bounce, but lodged itself in his forehead raising ugly rifts of skin and gouts of blood. He turned to address the rest of the invaders and prepared to make himself heard over Brock’s manly, baritone shrieks of pain.
Meanwhile, in the past, Jessie, James, and Meowth were leaving their submersible, cleverly disguised as a Feebas, in which they had conveyed themselves expediently to the Bermuda Island. Meowth clung tenaciously to James’s head, furious at the confinement and omnipresence of water he’d just endured. Sullenly James endured Meowth’s razor barbs, both physical from the claws digging into his scalp and verbal from Meowth’s incisive wit. For example, Meowth teased James about being a big pussy.
“Finally,” exulted Jessie triumphantly with a sense of accomplishment, pride, and satisfaction from great achievement. “That Pikachu won’t escape us this time! Now that we’ve tracked it to this island, there’ll be no way for it to escape.”
“I know,” said Meowth, “I was there. I, uh, I understand events that happen around me?”
James worried about how much blood you had to lose before mental functions started to be impaired.
“Not that it’d be easy to tell in your case!” chortled Meowth. James glared skeptically. Had he voiced his concerns? Better not to let Jessie know that he might be losing his grip, or let her know that he couldn’t tell that he wasn’t losing his grip. James knows that if he pulls himself together, Jessie will see what a standup guy he is. Hadn’t he always been there to comfort her when they’d failed Giovanni? Hadn’t he always been a sympathetic ear when one of her many... boyfriends (he suppressed a shudder--couldn’t let Meowth know he was troubled, or let Jessie onto the fact that even Meowth could tell what was going on) lost interest in her. How could anyone lose interest in Jessie? Just thinking about her made his lymph oscillate and his bowels involute. Every time her crimson hair brushed against his shoulder, he treasured it. He knew where the old pairs of gloves that she’d “lost” were kept, and the rich soft scented leather still, he insisted, resonated with the imprint of her armflesh. Would he ever take something more more? His smegma quivers at the thought, but not yet. First she must engrave an invitation on the stone of his heart.
Stumbling thus through the foresty maze of life, as well as the Bermuda Island, proceeded James. Lost in his own emotions (the intensity of which astonished him. how could something as prosaic as a woman inspire them? or does Jessie transcend earthly categories such as...), James didn’t hear:
“Honestly, the sooner James manages to fuck this up and we’re back in Kanto, the better,” purred Meowth sardonically. “We’ll go back to makework and billing our time as ‘strategic operations preplanning’ and I can get back to my Glameows.”
Jessie grunted affirmatively. “Anthony has been pretty fun lately. When we go to an interesting Staraptor grudge match, it’s interesting. And when we go to a boring one, I get to find out what new styles he’s picked up from his other girls. Win-win.”
“Too bad it means we’re gonna have to listen to him for a while,” moped Meowth.
“Whatever, I’ll spend twenty minutes telling him I’m sad and just need someone who really cares and he’s good for a month. He can go do... whatever he does.”
Meowth shrugged and gouged a chunk out of James’s right calf. When he didn’t break his stride, he squinted warily up at him and frowned.
“Freaky trances. Gyuh.”
Jessie nodded. The three of them continued pressing their way through the brush, until finally they reached a clearing. Jessie’s and Meowth’s jaws dropped immediately, and once they’d elbowed James out of his reverie his did too.
Nothing could have prepared them for the horrific majesty of the desolation lain before them. Jessie immediately rushed to Brock to administer first aid, and check the pulse... (...of his ween). Nurse Joy applied a Super Potion to him.
Gary snorted derisively. “Don’t you know that lemonade is more cost-efficient? This is what I get for hanging out with scrubs.” Mewtwo psychically high-fived him from a distance, utilizing quantum entanglement.
James headed to Ash to try to nab his Pikachu. His intense, driven, cagesque focus on the goal of acquisition prevented him from imbibing via the eyeballs what was occurring around him. Ash wept openly and pled with James to leave his Pikachu alone. Pikachu, scared and confused, curled into a little yellow ball and crawled meekly into James’s meagerly comforting embrace. In turn James too defensively curled to harden his emotions against Mewtwo’s psystrike.
Meowth sidled over to Gary, who obligingly scratched under his chin and behind his ears.
“Good afternoon,” thundered Mewtwo to Jessie (and, peripherally, the rest) “By which I mean that this happens to be an afternoon which is good, not that this is an afternoon during which to do good deeds. I don’t.”
Jessie coquettishly raised an eyebrow and felt the incipient rush of hormones to her nether regions. Mewtwo’s deep resonances and ungainsayable command spoke to signal receptors acclimated, over the millennia humans and Pokemon had coexisted, to the sounds of dominance. She clamped her knees tight against each other, then wondered if Mewtwo had noticed her reaction and deduced the immediate carnal cause. She needn’t; he had. Carefully, she ran her gloves hands over her hair, checking for firmness and poise, teasing it over her shoulder in the way she knew to be most alluring. A mellifluous giggle trickled past her lips and into the nubs on Mewtwo’s head that sort of look like ears. It also went to the orifices through which he actually heard sounds.
“Hi, Mewtwo,” she said.
“What’s up, Jessie?” he thunderbolted. “Still hanging out with these losers?”
“Hey, Meowth’s all right.”
“I suppose. You knew what I meant.”
The two of them laughed knowingly together, for Jessie had indeed knewn. She adjusted her boots, rolling the tops down a little bit to expose some thigh. Mewtwo shifted the locus of flesh above his eyes upon which a human eyebrow would have resided.
“Why not?” she asked slyly.
“Sounds like fun,” he thundershocked in response. She strode confidently forward and grasped his throbbing psychic member with her exquisitely gloved hands. The softness of the fabric complimented the firmness of her grip, and had Mewtwo had typical human stamina and self-control he would have ejaculated onto Jessie’s facial and chestal regions immediately. He did so anyway, of his own volition, then psychically regenerated two years worth of semen.
James tore his eyes away from the developing scene of indescribably lurid excess. His tears were now not for the brutal violence he had witnessed, but for the sludge all over Jessie. Brock tenderly patted his shoulder, then wiped his and Ash’s santorum residue from his dick and placed it back in his pants.
“Why, Brock?” screeched James. “I’ve always been there for her. Why would she go for someone like Mewtwo? He’s terrible for her.”
“Well,” sagely squinted the Pewtronian, “Jessie is still young enough that she wants to ride the alpha asshole cock carousel. You may have noticed that she has frequent, athletic, remarkably pleasurable sex with many men, none of whom are pusillanimous tenderlings. While she is young and beautiful, she can attract a never-ending stream of them to rail her. As you can see now, Mewtwo’s really defenestrating her bunghole.”
“Why? He’s mean, he’s crude, he’s not remotely appropriate boyfriend material. But I’ve always listened and helped.”
“Yes, James, and one day when she has finished riding the carousel, much as she now rides legs splayed wide impaled on Mewtwo’s mighty member, she will seek out a beta with whom she has emotional compatibility and who can provide for her. By then, her looks will be much degraded, but luckily for you she’ll still probably be a six which is two or three points higher than you really deserve.”
James sighed and petted Pikachu to distract himself from Mewtwo’s lustful caresses of Jessie’s sensuous curves.
“Patience,” intoned Brock. James crossed his arms, furrowed his brow, and focused on clamping down on his erection.
Meowth unsheathed his dingledangle and performed what came naturally. Met with questioning accusative glares from James et al., he snidely retorted that Jessie had never minded in the past.
After an indeterminate duration, during which Erika happily joined in (aided by Mewtwo’s ability to manifest multiple equally prodigous penises), Mewtwo was finally relatively sated and prepared to desist for the evening.
“All over my face, Mewtwo,” begged Erika.
“No, inside my ass,” requested Jessie.
“Neither,” thunderpunched Mewtwo. “My final ejaculation for the night will be the ejaculation that pierces the heavens and annihilates the organic cruft pestering me. Meowth, Gary, clear a path; it’s about to get loud.”
The two duly shifted their asses, leaving an unobstructed corridor from Mewtwo’s glowing, vibrating penis to the trembling bodies of Brock, Ash, and James. A hideous grinding shuddering noise assaulted the targets. But just as Mewtwo was about to complete--
A dazzling bolt of blue lightning--
And a voice, insisting:
“That’s no good!”
Mewtwo swiveled in place to react to the excrescence despoiling his evening. Sonicbooms rolled forth from the tip of his cock, echoing in the wake of the cannonical burst that now sped, narrowly postponing the annihilation of the wicked. Mewtwo rode the recoil, bucking erratically, until he settled a few inches above the ground. He waited for the dust and debris to settle as well.
Eventually, they did.
And then Mewtwo saw the interloper, a grinning blue ball of spikes wearing pointed red shoes and no other clothes. He was slender and tall, with oversized hands and not a pot belly. Enormous cones jutting from his head undulated softly in the breeze. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot ironically.
“Nobody treats my friends like that, Mephiles!”
Mewtwo twerked his head quizzically.
“Nobody here... does anybody here know you? And I’m Mewtwo.”
Sonic rolled his eyes and leapt down to the ground from the perfectly-spiralled loop of stone on which he had been standing, as previously mentioned.
“Either way, you’re going down!” he snarked.
Sonic leapt into the air, becoming a whirring spiral of gleaming velocitative destruction. Air transmuted to ozone in his wake, the ground underneath him pulsed and furrowed into a trailing conic shockwave, and lots of hard-to-describe but visually satisfying accompaniments to his display of speed occurred simultaneously. He went fast.
So fast, in fact, that he managed to conk Mewtwo right on the old noggin, dazing him momentarily. Sonic spiralled off and collected a few more rings, just in case. In his communicator earpiece, he heard Tails shriek advice at him:
“Sonic! My computer analysis shows that Mephiles is in a forme that’s only weak to concentrated darkness and... bugs? That can’t be right.” Tails thumped his monitor in a fashion he liked to think was adorable. Sonic winced, and as his concentration was destabilized by Tails’s imbecilic affectations, he slammed into a tree. The proverbial dark ropes of gore strung out from his chest cavity, impaled by a branch, so he waved a Chaos Emerald over it to mend the grievous injury. Acrid smoke swirled around the contact, choking Sonic briefly, and he ran away from the scene.
“Darkness, eh?” quipped Sonic. “Sounds pretty chaotic to me. I’ll just u--”
Purple tendrils of energy infested Sonic’s every orifice and slammed him to the ground.
“It’s no use,” discharged Mewtwo. He hacked viscous blood onto his chest, then dashed Sonic against a protrusion of rocks. Silence broken by the breaking of bone spread through the glade.
Mewtwo started to drift away.
“You’re not getting off the hook that easy,” wheezed Sonic through collapsing lungs. With fading strength, he extracted the last of the seven Chaos Emeralds from their hiding place (the discerning reader can, no doubt, accurately speculate as to where this may have been). “It’s not just these, either.” Regretfully, but knowing that this was exactly the sort of dire situation that Knuckles and Rouge had been thinking of when they had entrusted him with it, he withdrew the Master Emerald.
The eight emeralds hovered dramatically in the air, puissant bewejelled energies surging between them. The last time they had interacted, the terrible forces had raged out of control and blown up the entirety of outer space. Can Sonic handle it this time? Find out...
...in this paragraph: Yes. The emeralds dissolved into pure rainbow light, then pierced Sonic’s body and filled him with their mighty energies. He screamed in the agony of excitement, going beyond Chaos Control, going beyond Super Sonic, all the way to Master Chaos Sonic. Suddenly, he had dark red highlights to his fur and a cool leather jacket, and glowing eyes with no iris or pupils, and lightning shooting all over, and huge muscles, and he could fly.
Master Chaos Sonic charged directly at Mewtwo, shrugging off the psyshocks and psybeams and fire blasts and aura spheres hurled his way. Responding in kind, Mewtwo psychically accelerated himself to mach speed, leaving behind a purple trail of devastation. The two of them looped around past each other, over and under and above and around, until finally they were charging directly at each other, their speed energies in near-perfect balance, the interface furiously boiling in the most fastest speed of all: Stillness.
“Strange, isn’t it?” asked Sonic.
Mewtwo tried to surge forward like lightning, but Sonic’s speed was even faster. He felt his energies beginning to crumble. If his guard were let down, even for a moment, the kinetic energy of the furiously spinning hedgehog would surely devastate him.
Out of the corner of his expansive sensorium, Mewtwo detected the telltale sign of a Deoxys in its Speed forme.
“One second,” he countered.
Mewtwo teleported to the Deoxys, punched directly through its defensive fields, and ripped out the purple crystalline organ residing in what on other species would be a chest cavity. Deoxys immediately died, and Mewtwo set about integrating its aberrant genetic profile with his own. In well under a four-hundredth of a second, he had accomplished the task, and with it gained Deoxys’s most worthwhile powers.
He teleported back to Sonic, pierced the vortex buffer generated by his speed, and strangled him. After a quick subdermal scan to verify brain death and organ failure, Mewtwo hurled his body down to the Bermuda Island.
Buzzing with excitement, he floated back to Erika, Meowth, Gary, and Jessie. Just as he was about to address them, the nigh-deafening shockwave of Sonic’s corpse’s impact blitzed past them.
“Erika, this is phenomenal. I’ve integrated Deoxys into myself. I’ve surpassed myself,” he erupted.
“Sounds great, hun,” she said.
“It is. It’s not enough, though. I still know where to find Genesect--yes, Jessie, I was able to tell. Psychic.” Jessie pouted momentarily, then resumed paying attention.
“And the Weather Trio have never been secretive, and... Yes. But while I do this, everyone, I’m going to need you to be in a safe place.” Levitating himself and them, he sped at Mach 20 away from the Bermuda Island, carefully keeping them safe from air currents and debris by finely manipulating the region around them. “Or create one.” As an afterthought, he nuked the Bermuda Island.
Over Cinnabar Island, Mewtwo decided that it would be an appropriate new home. He dropped his friends off, kissed Erika, and flew off to begin work on his new design.
...OR IS IT? READ ON IN DE MEWTWO DOM SATHANAS!