Her Possession

I have to admit: the first time I met her, she creeped me out. I mean, who wouldn't be creeped out? Her flat, emotionless expression, the way she spoke like a robot, the way her grunt called her "Mistress Courtney" like she was a fetish model. And most of all, the way she fixated on me after I beat her Camerupt in a Pokémon match—her tongue licking her lips wetly, in a slow, deliberate motion, with a conspicuous slurp as she turned her hypnotic eyes on me.

"You. Target lock...completed," she murmured in a strangely sensual voice, her unblinking gaze boring into me. I couldn't look away. With cute lavender hair that matched her large, doll-like eyes, I couldn't deny she was attractive, but if any girl ever screamed bad news, it was Courtney. Even by the standards of Team Magma, she was weird. She was supposed to be their resident scientist or something, but I had to think she had a few screws loose.

Well, that was back then, and maybe if she'd just backed off afterwards, I would've forgotten all about her weirdness. But the next time I encountered her and Team Magma, she only seemed to grow more fascinated with me. Giggling, licking her lips, and calling me interesting—I had no idea what she was playing at, and although I wasn't inclined to complain about attention from a sexy older woman, her apparent curiosity about me was more unsettling than exciting.

But I don't think it was until after Team Magma's plans went awry and the organization fell into limbo that Courtney actually started stalking me. Her faith in Maxie shattered, she fell back on a new object of interest: me.

I thought I was imagining things, at first. I'd be camping out in the wild and catch a glimpse of red in the bushes. A wild Plusle, maybe. Easy to dismiss. Sometimes I'd wake up in the night to the sound of my tent flaps rustling and couldn't shake the impression that someone had been watching me. I figured I was a little paranoid, maybe from being away from the safety and routine of civilization too long.

I could no longer deny that someone could be on my trail when she started to get bolder. Look, I'm as healthy down there as any guy, but I don't tend to have wet dreams when I'm on the road. Too tired at the end of each day, too much to think about. So when I found myself dreaming that a beautiful woman was grinding gently against me, kissing my cheeks and forehead, it was already strange.

Doubly strange was that I'd never had a wet dream so vivid. The timid, furtive touch of her fingers on my chest, the wetness of her lips pressing softly on my forehead, the cautious but rhythmic movement of her hips against my body. As her whispers tickled my ears, I intuited from the voice that the vague feminine form in my dream was Courtney, and her face began to materialize in the world of dreams.

"So...cute...so cute...my precious...my property, ehehehe ♪"

As her warm breath caressed my face, my cock rose to attention, eliciting giggles from my dream companion. She grew more forward, and I felt hot, open lips brush over mine; it seemed so real that I could feel the wet spot left on my mouth where her tongue had touched. As Courtney kissed me again, I moaned softly at the light contact and felt myself stirring from sleep. No sooner had the sound left my mouth than there was a hasty rustling noise and I felt the warmth of her body disappear as I was roused to consciousness.

The tent was empty. It was still dark. I could swear I could feel where her lips had been on my face. Her lips...Courtney's lips...

"Courtney...?" I shook my head. "Why—why was I dreaming of Courtney...?"

The Team Magma admin with a cute face and a messed up personality: I hadn't thought about her in months. And now she reappears in my dreams to give me the boner of a lifetime, like a vengeful succubus. Weird, huh? Still, my cock was now unbearably hard, so I followed my urges and unzipped my sleeping bag to squeeze out a quick one as I imagined Courtney in her form-fitting red dress before collapsing back into sleep.

It only occurred to me only the next day that maybe my "dream" wasn't so imaginary—that the weird feeling of being watched was real. I might've believed otherwise if I didn't dream of her again a couple days later. Again I was visited by a feminine presence; her kisses were wetter and heavier, her hot breath more fervent in my ear. The moist, hungry slurp of Courtney's lips, her close, breathy panting, the faint and feminine berry scent of her lip balm, the heat of her bare thigh as she nuzzled it teasingly against the outline of my cock—it was just too lifelike to be the product of my mind.

"I heard you...say my name...hehe ♪ You're...already mine..."

The night air blew cool against the wet patches on my face when I awoke. Despite my initial skepticism, I had to admit that I was probably being followed.

Honestly, I didn't know how to handle it. It would be a few days before I arrived at the nearest town, so unless I could find wherever she was hiding, there wasn't too much I could do. I scoped out the area the following morning, but despite her crazy vibes, Courtney was an intelligent and resourceful woman, and I got the feeling she was probably laughing at my poor attempts at tracking. I grew paranoid, my head twisting at every sound from the undergrowth, and the more time went by without confirmation of my suspicions, the more I thought I was the crazy one, obsessed with a woman to whom I'd barely spoken. Why would she be stalking me, anyway? I was just getting lonely and horny and imagining things. God knows why my psyche manifested that in the form of Courtney.

Still, before I slept that night, I found myself thinking about her. What if I saw her again? If it really were just a dream, it was no problem, right? I cupped my balls and closed my eyes, imagining Courtney coming into my tent, gazing down at me with her penetrating eyes and small, knowing smile. I willed her to appear again, to feel her body resting against mine, her soft lips finding my face to caress me once more with kisses. God help me, I actively fantasized about Courtney, drifting into sleep hard as a rock at the thought of her finally kissing me properly, relishing the taste of that cute pink tongue entering my mouth, and I sighed as I pictured the sensual movements of that tongue from my first meeting with her.

She didn't come that night, and I felt strangely ashamed of my desires the next day. I would learn later that she was careful never to visit two nights in a row. As such, in the following four days before I reached town, I had two more "dreams" of Courtney. It should be no surprise that she took the opportunity to escalate.

In my next nightly encounter with Courtney, she was no longer grinding against me, but resting on my chest, cowgirl style, her warm, generous thighs clasping my torso possessively. She leant down, and I felt Courtney's soft, moist palms on my cheeks, inhaled her breath, faintly acrid from her days in the wild, as she whispered affectionate words into my face. She may have been fully clothed in reality, but in my dreams, I saw her nude: her lavender hair disheveled, her firm breasts on display, a sheen of sweat on her tummy.

"Hehehe...my little...possession...I know...how you feel about me...come and find me...whenever you like ♪"

It was too much for me to take. Longing for the feel of her lips, I opened my mouth submissively, panting heavily, inviting Courtney in.

"Hmhmhm...so needy...I like it..." In the next moment I was elated as Courtney's lips pressed against mine more boldly than before, her tongue slipping inside. My cock twitched eagerly as the foreign flavor, a little sweet, a little sour, consumed my senses. Her fingers danced over my cheeks as her active, curious tongue explored the ridges of my teeth and curled around my own tongue as if to mark its property. She was gentle, yet forceful, her lips smacking wetly against mine, and it was no surprise that she was a messy kisser, slurping and sucking as her drool coated my mouth. But it couldn't last; all the activity pushed me to the edge of consciousness, and her overwhelming taste was too much to bear. I groaned into her mouth and my hips jerked keenly, searching for release.

In hindsight, my sudden movement likely passed into the waking world, and that was the thing which tipped Courtney off that I was dangerously close to catching her in the act, and so the addictive taste of her tongue was torn away from me all too soon. I awoke in darkness again, still imagining the warmth of Courtney's thighs on my chest and the flavor of her kiss on my tongue.

"Courtney..." I whispered, my fingers finding my stiff, straining cock. "No way that was a dream..." As I caressed myself, I was torn. If it really weren't a dream, then Courtney was, bluntly speaking, sexually assaulting me in my sleep, and I was off the hook for having obsessive fantasies of her. But the small, weird part of me that was enjoying those fantasies desperately wanted to think that Courtney's lithe body had only moments ago been perched on top of me, that she had called me her possession and kissed me deeply. Was I convinced Courtney was stalking me because it was a rational conclusion grounded in evidence, or because I wanted Courtney to be stalking me? Was I paranoid because of a crazy woman who had become obsessed with me, or had I become the crazy one obsessed with her? Could I really say, as I jerked off to the phantom of Courtney's kiss, that I thought of her as no more than some weird girl who creeped me out? If I ever met her again, what would I say to her? God, the way I was thinking, it was almost like I wanted to meet her again...

Though that evening ended with another wet tissue and no firm conclusions drawn, I think it's fair to say that I was exactly where Courtney wanted me. I fell back to sleep confused, horny, and feeling weirdly pathetic.

The next morning, I once again scouted out the nearby area in the hope of finding traces of Courtney's presence. As I squinted fruitlessly at winding forest trails, sweat coating my brow, I started to feel like a stalker myself. I'm losing my mind, I thought. I should just keep going and forget about this. I'd be back in town in a couple of days. Best thing to do would be to seek out some battles with other trainers as I pass through the woods, get myself back in the game.

And, y'know, I almost managed to do that. Although the thought of Courtney never totally went away, I was amply distracted by an female Ace Trainer with a cute butt and a mean Blissey. I assiduously banished Courtney from my thoughts as I went to sleep that night. No more craziness and paranoia. Okay, sure, I could admit that Courtney was pretty hot, but I'd probably have been able to move on and dismiss it all as a period of excess horny were it not for, well, everything that happened afterwards.

It was the last night of camping out when Courtney paid me one last visit. This time, instead of just coming onto to me, she was closer, more intimate. At least, that's what I assume, given how my dream went. I heard her voice, and I saw her face again, saw her looking at me deeply, earnestly.

"I can feel how you missed me...my precious boy...so cute...so vulnerable..."

She squeezed up against me, her breasts pushing into my side as her lips nuzzled my cheek lovingly. She smelt very natural: a faintly sweet-sour odor mixed with the stale sweat accumulated over several days away from the city. I felt her fingers intertwine with mine as I inhaled her breath and body scent gratefully.

"We'll be together soon...I'll make sure...you're treated well...like any good owner...with her cute pet ♪" Once again, her wet mouth brushed tantalizingly against mine, and my head swam; her tongue darted between my lips, drawing a gasp from me as I tasted scant droplets of her saliva. God her kisses were like heaven. "Ehehehe...adorable...how you accept me...so easily...you must...really love me ♪"

In my dream, I nodded eagerly—I cried out "Yes! I love you! I love you!" and begged her to kiss me again, but she never did, leaving me blueballed. What Courtney saw is beyond my knowledge—I assume I was not so energetic—but it's clear that she stole away afterwards, without waking me, and I awoke in the morning, feeling reinforced in my belief that all of this was down to my own incomprehensible desires.

With only a matter of hours before I was back among the crowds, I decided to dismiss my thoughts about Courtney. The closer I came to the gates of the city, the more the events of the past week seemed trivial. So I got kind of lovesick on the road and had some fantasies of being wanted, and what? Nothing to get worked up over. I strode triumphantly into town, confident that I wouldn't be thinking about Courtney again anytime soon.

After resting up at the Pokémon Center, it was time to start thinking about my next destination. What Pokémon were I still missing...? As I consulted my Pokédex, loitering at the entrance of the Center, a kid walked up to me. He looked like the typical young rookie, dressed in a baggy t-shirt and shorts with a snapback cap.

"Hey, are you the guy who beat Team Magma?" he asked.

I looked up and smiled. This happened every so often. "Yeah, that's me. What can I do for you?"

"Uhm, there's something you might wanna know..." He fidgeted awkwardly, like he didn't want to tell me.

"What is it, kid?"

"Since you're a strong trainer and all," began the kid, "there's been a nasty woman stealing people's Pokémon around here and she got my friend the other day, who just got his first Pokémon..."

"Hold up, there's a Pokémon thief?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah, the other kids call her the Witch. I heard she lives in a house outside of town, near the base of the mountains just east of here."

"Ah, gee, I was probably headed there," I said. "Thanks for the tip, kid. Might head up and teach her a lesson. Most of these types are washed-up trainers who couldn't cut it legit."

"Uhm, thanks," replied the kid, smiling shyly as if unsure what to say. Not the social type, this one—probably trying to do his friend a favor. I took mercy on him and thanked him again before making an excuse to leave him in peace.

This whole 'Witch' business seemed like a good pretext for scoping out the nearby area before making a proper expedition into the mountains. I'd pop out the eastern gates, and if I found her house somewhere in the wild then I'd deal with her. If not, no biggie. Could be an old wives' tale.

As it happened, it was all too real.

After a few hours of trekking around the woods in the warm afternoon, right near the sheer rock face of the mountain, just as the boy had promised, I found the so-called Witch's house. At least, that was my only explanation for the building I saw; I had expected a rickety fairy tale haunted house, but I had found what seems to be a small grey trailer-like temporary building, built of sleek modern materials. Gauging from its spotless looks, it hadn't been there long. The simple metal door was unguarded, and its small, single window was dark.

I approached cautiously, more confused than unnerved, and pushed down on the door handle. It was unlocked. Somewhat unbelieving, I opened the door a crack.

"Hello?"

Nothing. Seemed like the Witch wasn't home. I pushed the door open and let some of the afternoon light spill into the room, revealing some person's modest but not unbearable living situation, complete with a mini-kitchen and a surprisingly large futon which had not been put away. The detail stood out since the room appeared otherwise pretty Spartan and well-maintained.

"Looks like the Witch forgot to put away her futon," I chuckled to myself, trying to calm my nerves as I neared the messy bedding.

"It's in use," came an all-too-familiar emotionless voice, and I felt a stinging pain in my neck as the words sounded. A figure emerged from my blind spot in the shadows of the kitchen behind me, and wrapped her arms around my torso. I tried to struggle but whatever she had hit me with was fast-acting, and my body was limp in her arms. I was paralyzed. Slowly, yet somehow lovingly, she lowered me to the futon and I looked up at the face of my captor, dreading the moment when I confirmed her identity.

"Hello...again..." murmured Courtney, caressing my cheek with the back of her hand. She was crouched next to my supine body, gazing down at me with an inscrutable look in her eyes. Against my better nature, my gaze was drawn to her bare thighs, as smooth and pink and generously proportioned as I remembered them. "Now...you are my possession...finally..."

"What was...what did you stick in...my neck?" It was exhausting to talk.

"A temporary paralytic...a muscle relaxant...so, relax ♪" Courtney giggled at her own joke. "I...will not hurt you..."

"So you—you're the Witch?"

"I...made up the Witch...I told the kid...to speak to you..." Courtney explained. "I gave him...some money, hehehe..."

"You h-haven't—" I swallowed weakly, struggling to stay coherent. "You haven't—stolen anyone's Pokémon...?"

"No," said Courtney. "I only stole...you ♪" She giggled again, the little horns on her red hoodie making her look particularly impish. "Now...please rest..." She laid a hand over my eyes and pulled my eyelids down, and I found I was too weary to resist even that. Her hand still held on my face, I felt Courtney's thighs straddling my hip and her breasts pushed up against my chest. I knew, although I couldn't see, that her face was inches from mine, as her breath blew hot against my lips. The feel of her body, the scent of her breath—it was all so familiar. If my dick could've been hard, it would've been diamonds.

"Do you feel..." said Courtney, almost into my mouth, "like you've...been here before?"

"Yuh—yeah..." I whispered weakly. It was real...it was all real...I'm so fucked...

"So you know...you are safe...sleep...my little one..."

I was indescribably tired, and Courtney's soft murmuring, despite the distressing circumstances, was only making me sleepier. Her fingers ran through my hair in a soothing, rhythmic motion, and with my hazy mind running in circles over the realization that Courtney had genuinely been stalking me, my consciousness departed.

When I awoke, it took me more than a few moments for me to recognize where I was. The lights were dim, and I assumed it was nighttime. I was quite naked, on an unfamiliar futon; my hands and feet were bound with rope, which itself was secured to a hook on the wall behind me. Memories rushed back to me, memories of Courtney's flushed face gazing down at me. Shit shit shit. I had been kidnapped! Twisting round, my body still not perfectly responsive, I found my captor standing in the kitchen with her back to me, barefoot in her usual figure-hugging red dress.

"Courtney," I croaked.

She turned to me and gave a tiny smile. "You are...awake. Do not worry...your clothes and Pokémon are safe." Spooning something from a pot into a bowl, she approached. "Are you...hungry?" She crouched by my side and propped me up against the wall, then scooped out a spoonful of food to show me. "Oatmeal...with honey..." Not waiting for a reply, she pressed the spoon against my lips.

I was uncomfortable with her closeness; her bare shins and feet were warm against my naked skin. My cock stirred, and I did my best not to draw attention to it. I swallowed awkwardly and opened my mouth, allowing Courtney to feed me. My facial muscles still weren't totally functional, and as I ate, flecks of oatmeal escaped my lips and dribbled over my chin to my chest, eliciting a laugh from Courtney.

"You are...a messy eater...." To my embarrassment, Courtney leant in and licked the food from my chest, kissing the spots where it had been and slowly moving up with an explorative tongue until she was teasing my blushing cheeks and chin with conspicuous slurps. Her soft hands tickled my scalp as she drove her fingers through my hair and her mouth made its way, one lick after another, to my own, her warm tongue coming to rest against my lips. Her mouth was so hot and wet...the addictive taste of Courtney's kiss mixed with the sweet honey—I groaned as my dick reacted predictably.

"Hehe..." She exhaled hotly into my mouth. "Already...so excited...for me..."

"No," I mumbled. "Please, Courtney..."

"Be quiet...I'll take care of it..."

"This is—" I croaked, then cleared my throat. "This is so fucked up...please, let me go..."

Courtney only laughed again, and repositioned my body back down to the futon; I struggled against her, but with my limbs bound, it was no more than a minor hindrance to even a slight girl like her. "You like it," she said. "Your body...tells the truth..." She climbed on top on me, her butt rubbing up against my hard cock, and squeezed my torso between her thighs possessively as her hand traced over my face as if memorizing its contours. Her hips slowly began to move, grinding her panty-clad sex against my cock.

"Fuck!" I squirmed uncomfortably at the stimulation, trying to suppress the throbbing lust. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Courtney's slim fingers slipped over my lips in a shushing gesture as she continued to smile inscrutably.

"Shh...you don't have...to pretend...anymore..."

"I'm not pretending. I'm not—" Courtney silenced me with another kiss, hungrier than any she'd given me before. Her inquisitive tongue plunged mercilessly into my mouth, forcing my lips apart as I let out an involuntary throaty moan. How obvious it was that she'd been holding back before—now that Courtney was free to explore me as she wanted, her kiss was dominating in a way I had never imagined; shamelessly sloppy and wet, her lips smacking and sucking on me, her sticky drool coating the area all around my mouth, her tongue slurping and sliding along the back of my teeth and my palate, as if she was trying to consume me entirely. I opened my eyes for a moment to see that hers were wide as dinner plates, as if to probe and observe me. I blushed hotly as her rhythmic thrusts against my dick grew faster, and my erection twitched with shameful excitement at my state of vulnerability and helplessness. All I could taste was Courtney; all I could feel was Courtney.

I had to be honest with myself: it was so fucking wrong, but the more she talked about it, the more she stimulated me, the more the idea of being this crazy woman's property, her little naked slutpet, was starting to get me hot. I didn't understand it, but a needy, submissive urge was welling up in my core: I wanted her to use me like an object, to give me orders, attention, and release.

"Noooooo..." I moaned into Courtney's mouth, writhing against her plush thighs and trying ineffectually to buck her off my hips. "Shtoppit...!" With another sluurrrp, Courtney broke the kiss, but she didn't move away, instead seeking out new targets for her insatiable tongue, her lips sucking and caressing my cheeks and nose and ears. The surface of my whole face felt sticky and wet with Courtney's saliva, and her thick, womanly aroma filled up my nostrils like incense. No! I will not let this happen!

"Naughty, bratty child...naughty little pet...be honest with your Mistress..." she breathed in between her kisses. "I know how much...you want me ♪"

"I don't want this!" I insisted. "I didn't want to be stalked or kidnapped, and I don't want this! Fuck, you're not listening to me!"

"I am listening...to your body..." Courtney sat up, and for a moment I was relieved, until she began to pull her panties down over her shapely bare legs. I watched with a mixture of horror and arousal as she pulled up her dress to give me a view of her trimmed crotch and moist sex over my dick before tugging the panties to her feet. Coyly, she extended one pretty foot over my head and kicked the underwear off her toe directly onto my face, blinding me. I was forced to inhale the humid warmth of her femininity still clinging to the garment; I gagged at the pungency of the scent as it triggered another shameful twinge of my cock. God, imagine if she made me wear them. That'd be the worst...wouldn't it?

I felt Courtney lower herself again, her breasts back up against my chest. "You like...my panties..." Her voice was right at my ear. "What do you say...to a gift...from your Mistress?"

"Fuck off is what I say," I muttered through gritted teeth. "I told you—"

"Still lying," Courtney whispered. "I will...make you honest..." With two fingers, she pushed the used panties into my mouth, ignoring my pitiful moans. The acrid taste of Courtney's accumulations filled my mouth as she forced the dirty fabric inside; half on instinct and half out of sick curiosity, I sucked on it, and gagged again.

"I have been...saving those," explained Courtney, "for this moment...I have worn them...for an entire week...those panties are filthy...soaked with my sweat...my vaginal fluid...and it's likely...that small remnants of my urine and excrement...escaped my attention...and have soaked into them too..." She sighed lustily into my ear. "All of Mistress's juices...how do you like...all of my juices...my cute slut...?"

I felt Courtney's sex nuzzle my cock as it strained with excitement. Fuck, why was I turned on? I felt like such a loser! I lost to Courtney's trap, lost to her kisses, and now, I was going to lose to her used underwear. Some part of me wanted to taste her, wanted to worship her desperately, for reducing me to this. With tears forming in my eyes as she continued to force the panties through my resistant lips, I finally relented and sucked noisily on Courtney's filthy panties. The flavor was in turns bitter and acidic, but being forced to drink Courtney's stale bodily secretions was a level of humiliation that my treacherous body couldn't resist. Courtney's juices...Courtney's fluids...all the dirtiest parts of her...it's like Courtney is a Goddess and everything about her body, even her waste, is so perfect that I should worship it, be thanking her for it...! Shit, what is wrong with me? I really am acting like a complete slut...!

"Nuuuu," I groaned, even as I sucked on Courtney's panty-wrapped fingers, "pweeease shtahp..."

"But...you're enjoying it..." Courtney giggled. "You are really...a dirty, horny little child...on the inside...totally helpless for me...my dirty little boy...who doesn't know...what's good for him..."

I'm her dirty little boy...Courtney's dirty little boy...I'm just a bratty kid who needs a Goddess to tell me what to do... I let out another moan, somewhere between frustration and submission. Thought I kept up my defiance on the surface, my arousal was overcoming me. Even my protests felt like the insincere whines of a stubborn brat. Courtney had outsmarted me, captured me, and turned me into a quivering mess, soaked in her bodily juices and desperate for release. I felt dumb, inferior, defeated, sucking childishly on her panties.

At length, Courtney finally retracted her finger and discarded the filthy panties; I gasped for fresh air, but got little of it as Courtney began to accelerate the tempo, her slick sex rubbing against my cock with renewed vigor, her lips slamming against mine once again so hard that I could swear I heard a sound like suction. The interior of my mouth felt weird and alien, like my tongue had been displaced to someone else's jaw—everything was achy, dried out, full of foreign tastes. Is this how a whore's mouth feels? Used up, tasting like someone else's fluids... Courtney's intoxicating kiss stifled any chance that I might've been able to protest, but as my cock grew slick with her vaginal discharge, I knew my time to stop her was running out.

"Mmph...!" I whimpered into Courtney's mouth. I tried to communicate my distress with my eyes, but she saw to that too. As her warm palm descended over my vision, my deceitful body was still finding every excuse to excite me more: the dainty smallness of her hands, the heat and softness of her uncalloused fingers. I was at the mercy of Courtney's lips at both ends of my helpless restrained form; it was as though my body had found an addiction in hers, and every part of Courtney summoned that needy, submissive longing in my core, from her fingertips down to the slippery secretions with which she marked my cock as hers, her entrance teasing my yearning tip, as her warm, wet skin pressed against me fervently, as her tongue danced and slithered around mine, as my hips bucked involuntarily into her in my body's hunger for release, precum beading at my head.

"My pet..." she whispered breathily between her ardent kisses. "My slut...my possession...forever..."

"This is so wrong..." I let out a lusty gasp as she nibbled my bottom lip. "You're fucking crazy..." I hated how my voice came out: weak, desperate, and horny rather than upset or angry. I sound like a dirty-talking brat... "Fuck! Courtney...!"

Courtney ignored my protests and instead used her tongue to shut me up, her free arm reaching under her to guide my throbbing cock towards her. "Only a strong hand...can give you...what you need...my disobedient child..." Her every word seemed to pass through my lips and vibrate deep in my core. With a wet shlick, her warmth enveloped my cock, and I released a bestial, inarticulate moan, completely under Courtney's control. Her walls squeezed me hungrily, and a surge of arousal shot through my cock as she undulated her hips ever more vigorously against me.

"Nuuuuuuuuu...." I whined lamely as my pleasure reached a new feverish peak and my cock spasmed in the grip of Courtney's dominant pussy. I'm so pathetic...I can't even resist her anymore... A tear dribbled down the side of my face and I sobbed into Courtney's lewd embrace, succumbing to despair and ecstasy, weakly returning her overpowering kiss while my bound body thrust pitifully as though it belonged to someone else. Like a film reel projected on the dark pink wall of Courtney's hand over my eyes, I was watching myself degenerate into a person I didn't recognize: a horny little brat, a clumsy, needy dependent, a whimpering boyslut crying for my Goddess to give me attention and thanking her for making me submit.

"Yes..." Courtney murmured throatily. "An honest boy...is a good boy..."

I bucked my hips again as if in response, craving reward, and Courtney's body reacted with double the intensity, grinding and rotating her hips against me with renewed stamina, like she was reminding me who was in control. My needy cock was squeezed ever tighter in her capture as it approached orgasm; garbled noises that mixed protest with submission escaped my slutty lips in the brief moments when Courtney wasn't pleasuring them.

In the frenzy of my defeat, as my lust reached its zenith, I could only summon one coherent thought, as dumb as it was in my current position. "C-Can't cum...inside...!"

"That is not...your decision...my slut..." Courtney's words of denial, robbing me of what illusory agency I believed myself to possess, were the last straw. Flush with lust and humiliation, I cried out as I came desperately inside Courtney, shaking and quivering like a naughty schoolgirl doing it for the first time, delighting in the risk and loss of control. How can I call myself a man after this...?

Courtney finally uncovered my vision and drew her mouth away. I was greeted by her big, sensual eyes, still boring into me, and a smile that looked almost cheeky with her cheeks so red. "Good boy ♪" I didn't reply. Raising herself slowly, my cock, softening rapidly, slipped out of Courtney's dripping pussy as she stood up and stretched in a catlike fashion, her bare feet straddling me; after a few moments, she lazily moved away from the futon, maybe to go and clean herself, I don't know. I wasn't so interested at that moment. I rolled onto my side, facing the wall, quiet sobs escaping my throat, and tried to forget what had happened to me, what I had been feeling only minutes ago—I couldn't admit any of it to myself. My only memory of that moment is the feeling that I wanted to disappear.

I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I remember, Courtney was shaking me awake. "I made you...more oatmeal ♪" I didn't want to turn around, didn't want to see her face, but she wouldn't stop. "It's morning...time to eat breakfast...my cute pet...my beloved ♪" Her apparent high spirits made me feel sick. What the fuck was wrong with this woman? Twisting aggressively, I used what little freedom I had to surprise her and knock her off the futon. The food bowl cracked, oatmeal splattered across the floor and I tried to ignore my twinge of guilt as I saw Courtney's shocked expression.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" I cried. "Fuck! I don't think you even understand what you did to me, you're such a crazy bitch."

Courtney looked at me seriously. "I don't understand...why you are still...being disobedient..." She seemed earnest, her usually affectless voice almost hurt. God, why did I feel bad after what she did to me last night? Where had the high and mighty attitude gone?

"What the hell did you expect? You fucking stalked me for weeks, you drugged me, and now, you..." I couldn't bring myself to say it. "Wh-Who the fuck would be okay with this...?" I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment; it took all my willpower not to break down again.

I heard no reply from Courtney. When I reopened my eyes, she was gazing at the spilt food, her knees together, a look of confusion in her eyes. "I don't understand..." she repeated. "I don't understand...I made sure...I calculated everything..." To my shock, seeing her distraught was a stinger to my heart, as though I was the one who'd done something bad. Confusion and shame flooded me like fever. I couldn't look at her like this, so I just turned over again and tried to pretend I was anywhere else, blocking out Courtney's muttering. I wanted to hate her, wanted to be furious and righteous and tell her what a fucked-up creep she was for doing that to me—but I couldn't. No matter how I thought of it, I was ashamed of myself: ashamed that I had hurt her, or ashamed that I couldn't properly stand up for myself, and I couldn't choose which.

Time went by, hours and hours. Courtney pushed herself against the wall at some point, mumbling under her breath inaudibly. Through the window, the pale morning light turned to the deep blue of high noon, and slowly, slowly, became tinged with pink as the day wasted by in silence. The aroma of the honey and oatmeal made me wish I'd accepted the food as I grew hungrier. In those idle hours, I dwelt on my feeling of guilt, and got to thinking about how Courtney had paid me those visits in the night while I was traveling. She said that she "made sure" before... I recalled how I had agonized over the notion that she had been following me: the fight between the part of me that loved the idea of having this secret correspondence with Courtney and the part of me that thought I was losing my mind. I had even fantasized about meeting her again, dreamt of her on my own volition. I had gone to sleep hoping to feel Courtney's hot lips and tongue against my face, to bask in her insatiable appetite for kisses.

Even now—I rubbed my dry, tired lips together—I missed them. I wanted Courtney's kisses, still. I couldn't pretend this woman meant nothing to me.

Finally, I spoke. "C-Courtney," I began. She didn't move. "Courtney, if you had that drug to paralyze me all along, why did you visit me at night in secret? Why didn't you just trap me immediately?"

"I wanted...to make sure..." said Courtney listlessly, as if giving an automated reply. "I had to make sure...that you needed me...that you loved me..."

I didn't know what to say.

Obviously my words had done something, however, because Courtney stood up and spoke once more after fifteen minutes or so. She looked down at me robotically, her voice cold. "I...miscalculated..." she said. "You are not...the person whom...I believed you to be." I winced, looking down at my bound feet. Why did her words hurt me?

"I will...release you..." she continued. "I promise...you will never see me again." She reached down to untie the ropes on my hands.

For reasons I couldn't explain, the thought that I would never see Courtney again awoke a horrible fear deep inside of me. Before I knew what I was doing, I replied in a quavering, anxious voice. "Please don't."

Courtney cocked her head. "Were my words unclear...? I do not...want to hurt you. Rephrasing...you will no longer be...my property...you will return...to your life—"

"No, that's not what I mean." Once again, I felt like I was losing my mind, but if I stopped to reflect, I would never be able to say it, to admit it to Courtney. "I want to say—I'm sorry, Mistress Courtney." The spark of light returned to Courtney's eyes at my words, and I felt a flicker of hope. "You didn't miscalculate anything. I was wrong," I continued. "I'm sorry I called you a bitch. I'm sorry I was so dishonest with you. I'm sorry for acting bratty and spilling the oatmeal you cooked for me. And—thank you. Thank you for showing me how to be honest and obedient. Thank you for giving me attention even when I was acting like a brat and throwing a tantrum. Even now, I only realized how wrong I was because—because of how much I missed your kisses, Mistress." As Courtney's look of surprise settled into a smile, pride and relief swelled in my heart. "Please, please, Mistress," I added, with a pout for good measure. "Please don't let me go. Please kiss me again."

"You are...a very talkative pet...today..." Courtney said. "It appears...I only miscalculated...how stubborn you would be..." She raised her right foot directly over my face, showing me a good view of her sole—unsurprisingly grimy after at least a few days without a proper wash. Despite that, she had elegant feet, with medium-length toes and high arches. "It is unlikely...you are lying...but I would like you...to show me...your honesty now..."

Understanding her meaning, I kissed her filthy sole eagerly, freely relishing the taste of dirt and Courtney's sweat. I took her big toe into my mouth and sucked the dirt out from under her nail, running my tongue over her warm skin with vigor and gratitude, like she had fed me ambrosia. Because that what She is...the food of the gods...the food of my Goddess...

"I have taught you...very well..." Courtney removed her toe from my mouth and knelt by my side. "I...forgive you..."

"Thank you," I said earnestly. "Thank you, Goddess."

"Hehe...Goddess...you are...so cute..." She propped me back up against the wall. "I was right...about you..."

"Of course you were, Goddess," I said, smiling. "You're so smart. You understood me better than I did."

Giggling to herself, Courtney moved again to untie the bonds fixing my hands to the wall. "Goddess?" I asked, looking up at her with needy eyes. "You're really going to untie me? You don't have to. It's not like I mind—"

"You will not...go anywhere...will you...my precious pet...?" she murmured into my ear.

"No, I'm y-your property, Goddess," I muttered, suppressing my embarrassment. "I belong to you."

Courtney freed my hands and, with a swift movement, straddled me again, bringing her face right up to mine, her warm breath tickling my nose; I drank up the stale, somewhat pungent scent, thanking her internally for the privilege of being able to smell her unwashed mouth. "You said," she began, "that you missed...my kisses...?"

My hands, free from their bondage, encircled Courtney's waist. "Yes," I replied, "I love your kisses, Goddess. I love you, Goddess."

"Hehehe...of course you do..." Courtney nibbled the tip of my nose. "I love you too...my sweet little slave..." At last, she brought her lips to mine, and with her signature sluuurrp, her tongue, by now a familiar visitor, returned to my needy mouth, and for the first time, I kissed her back freely and eagerly. Of course, there was no way a naughty slave like me could match the intensity and careless abandon of a kiss from a Goddess, but the privilege of feeling our tongues intertwine, of tasting her teeth and lips, was a pleasure greater than I could've imagined. Courtney only overpowered me more forcefully, her lips slurping and sucking as she pushed me back up against the wall, ravishing my slutty mouth, her saliva dribbling over my cheeks and chin. Now that I knew my place, I submitted willingly, and took only pleasure in how earnestly my Goddess marked me as her exclusive possession.

When at last I was released, a line of drool connecting our mouths, my Goddess and I remained in that position, smiling at one another, for some time, relishing in our reconciliation. That moment was only broken by a growl from my stomach, and I was blessed with the sound of my beloved Goddess giggling.

"Perhaps...you would like...some oatmeal now...? Unfortunately...the bowl is broken...but I do have...a dog bowl..."

Good End

That is a full account of how I came to submit to Goddess Courtney. Since then, my life has changed a lot. I joined Team Magma as Goddess's personal hire, working to help her implement her ambitions. It's a perfect arrangement: by day, I serve at the pleasure of her analytical intelligence and passion to change the world, and by night, I serve at the pleasure of her body. Life is so much easier now that I've submitted to Goddess Courtney's superior mind and cleared away all those dishonest thoughts. I can't imagine living as I had before, as though I had the competence to make my own way in the world. The one thing I could do—Pokémon battling—I now use as no more than an instrument for Courtney's will.

Sometimes I hear about people from my old life, how pathetic and treacherous they think I am, how even the most generous characters think I was broken and brainwashed. My reputation as some kind of hero is long gone. Rumors and gossip spread that I'm a sex-crazed masochist, that a woman over whom I once triumphed came back for revenge and beat me until I became her crossdressing slave. I'm called a traitor, a pervert, my deceit lowering me beneath even the worst criminals among Team Magma in the esteem of the respectable world. As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter: they can strip me of everything I was before I knelt to my Goddess, and it would mean nothing to me. I measure my reputation according to the whims of one person and one person only.

After all, I don't care about what anyone else thinks about me, and my silly little head wasn't built for all that complicated stuff. All that matters is serving my perfect Goddess, and all I need are Her perfect kisses.

Bad End

That is a full account of how I came to submit to Goddess Courtney. Since then, my life has changed a lot. Of course, I joined Team Magma—sort of. As the property of Goddess Courtney, I'm considered a dependent and not allowed to keep Pokémon, so I'm basically a dogsbody and can't participate in operations. Even the newest recruits can tell me what to do. It's okay, since I'm used to taking orders anyway. Goddess took my clothes and replaced them all with Team Magma grunt uniforms—of the female variety. A lot of the members—especially the ones whom I beat years ago—just love to bully and make fun of me. If I'm lucky, Goddess is around to protect me, since I can't talk back to my superiors.

Some of those bullies like to tell me about people from my old life, how pathetic they think I am, how even the most generous characters think I was broken and brainwashed. My reputation as some kind of hero and Pokémon Master is long gone. Rumors spread that I'm a sex-crazed crossdressing sissy, that a woman over whom I once triumphed came back for revenge and beat me until I became her slave. Some even say that I never was a Pokémon Master in the first place, that I had become a servant of Team Magma to pay a debt to them for helping falsify my once-vaunted prowess, and that Goddess Courtney had been secretly directing my actions all along. They're considering revoking my privileges and place in the Hall of Fame but for a lack of evidence, and I think I'm going to ask Goddess to spill the beans on my fraud to cut off the last vestige of my old life, to ensure I can never return to it even if I wanted to.