Target Pokemon: Paras
Target Length: 5k – 10k
Actual Length: 7,243
Author Note: This is fairly dark and involves rape, kinda. Don't read ahead if you don't like that kind of stuff. Apparently, you're also allowed to dedicate stories, so I dedicate this to Alaskapigeon (she corrupted me). (Also, a few others helped).
I crawl feverishly through the grass. Hopefully the predator hasn’t seen me yet. I decide that the best way to avoid them is to not move, so I lower myself to the ground, trying to hide myself among the swaying green strands. I can’t quite stop the shaking, though. I’m pretty sure the two mushrooms on my back are visible, but hopefully the huge monster won’t see me in the dimming light of twilight.
I can hear her flapping wings. I’m not sure entirely what she is, but I know what she wants. My genetic information. While all Pokemon have special powers, their powers are often limited. One way to step around these limits is by breeding – sometimes a female who breeds with a male of a different species can impart some of the male’s abilities to her young, which assists in the survival of herself, her offspring, and her species as a whole.
For decades now, this has been the way. Female Pokemon roam the world, looking for males to breed with to increase the powers of their children. Some males just submit – they lose their dignity but reason that it’s better than being killed by accident during the chase. Personally, I would rather die than have my virginity stolen – it’s mine to give to someone special.
The thoughts of my sweetheart calm me down, even as I hear the monstrous flapping sounds move closer. I realize that the monster could be lulling me into a false sense of security, preparing to strike. The cold sweat breaks out again, and I cut my losses. I scramble out of the grass, heading for the tangle of the trees. If I can just make it to a bolt-hole, I will be fine.
My world is nothing but sounds – the scratching of my claws on the dirt, my heaving panting, and the soft seductive muttering of my pursuer. Inside my mind, I can hear a part of my subconscious talking. I can almost see it coated in red, arguing with the “normal” me, coated in blue.
Maybe we should just give up, the red one hisses. His white mandibles wave as he talks, and the red staining makes it look like he has just sucked someone’s blood. All the others at the nest say sex is pleasurable – if we don’t struggle, we might enjoy it.
No! I scream, shaking one of my claws at him, spattering him with blue. I will not submit to this! I don’t want to have sex, and that is my right!
The red Paras opposite me hisses, as if the blue paint was stinging him. The black fog lifts from my mind, and the real world slowly returns to my sight. I find myself hiding in a hollow log, panting heavily from the exertion. The ominous flapping sounds are still easily audible, but instead of moving steadily closer they appear to be moving around somewhat randomly. Against my better judgment, I shuffle my back legs forwards a little bit, peering out of the log. I have a morbid fascination with what is chasing me that I cannot explain. A few small grubs occupying the log with me squeak in protest and bury themselves in the wood. Unfortunately, that is not an option for me.
Perhaps if she’s good-looking there won’t be any need to hide, my red-self whispers.
I shove the redness into the back of my mind and imprison it behind black bars, but it struggles and threatens to break free.
Suddenly, my pursuer floats into view, and I gasp. She has huge purple wings, each wing easily twice the size of her body. Her head is shaped like a crown, and two beady eyes roam across the forest clearing, searching for her prey. She has six stubby leg-like graspers, and each one is moving independently, as if preparing to snatch at something within a moment’s notice.
I sink back into the log, letting the poor light hide me from view. I now know for certain why I am being chased – Venomoth have the ability to drain the lifeforce of their victims using a common leeching attack. However, as a Paras, I have access to a much more powerful draining technique called Giga Drain – no doubt this Venomoth wishes to pass this ability onto her young.
She continues to search the clearing, using a grid pattern to make sure that she misses nothing. I know that it would only be a matter of time before I was found – Venomoth eyes weren’t good for long-distance vision, but had amazing night-vision properties. I have to run, and soon.
The Venomoth drops low to investigate a scraggly bush, and I make my move. I scuttle out of the log as fast as my four hind legs can carry me, even using my claws to scoop myself along. Unfortunately, the rattling of my claws on the log makes a drumming sound the reverberates through the log. The Venomoth immediately turns and spots me. I know this because it resumes the strangely appealing chittering sound, and the sound of wing-beats again begin to close in on me.
I move quickly through the undergrowth, dodging around trees. I know there is a bolt-hole here somewhere, hidden at the base of a dead tree. I begin panicking – the dead tree is nowhere to be seen. My heart begins beating faster, and I can feel my pursuer draw closer.
It’s not too late, my red-self whispers. I look over to him – while black bars currently restrain him, his orange claws are silently cutting away at the bars. He grins at me, and spits a slew of acid on the bars. Grey smoke begins rising, and I can smell the bitter, acrid odour of poison.
I turn sharply around a tree, and I can feel the wind on my back as the Venomoth swoops past. I begin crying in relief – not fifteen metres away is the dead tree, and I can already see the hole. The narrow passageway will just accommodate me – there is no way the Venomoth will fit. My red-self snarls and throws it’s whole body at the cage keeping it trapped, but I ignore it. I’m safe.
I throw myself at the dead-tree, panting heavily. I stumble over to the hole, and grasp the dirt firmly with my claws as I begin to force myself in. Just before I am able to fit my mushrooms in, I feel something seize my back legs. I shriek, and begin scrabbling at the walls. However, my attacker is stronger. Using her unbelievable strength, she begins to dislodge my grasp. I release a cloud of spores from underneath my mushrooms. They’re the most potent sleep-inducing spores I have in my arsenal. I feel a lessening of pressure on my legs, and I begin to hope my attack worked, but then I hear a huge thud, and I know the Venomoth has blown my spores away. I feel something wet hit my back – I realize with horror and disgust that the Venomoth must be openly drooling.
I descend into complete panic as I scrabble at the dirt. My red-self pounds at the bars, and finally manages to break free. He wanders over to me and looks at me as I lay on the black ground. I notice that the blue stains from before are shrinking. He laughs, and hits me across the face with his claw, knocking me onto my back. My sight fades, but I can still feel myself losing the fight against the Venomoth.
Stop fighting, red-me hisses. He begins to expand, only stopping when he is thrice my size. His redness glows like a fire, and my insignificant blue spark begins to gutter.
You have lost, he says, and I can feel my claws lose their grip. My back hits the ground, and the last thing I hear before red-me takes control is the gentle chittering of the Venomoth. I can feel my body preparing for coitus against my will.
I scream, but no one hears me.