He came for a capture. The Lucario came for him—knot, seed, and a belly that wouldn’t stay flat.
The mist clung to the trees like a living thing, thick and cool against the bare strip of my midriff as I stepped carefully over roots and fallen leaves along Route 15. Even at just sixteen I had already learned that the rarest catches demanded more than brute force. Charm, patience, and a certain reckless willingness to look the part of something soft and inviting had served me better than any overpowered team. My pastel-pink skirt brushed the tops of my thighs with every careful step; the cropped white tank top rode high enough that the underside of the handful of soft, rounded flesh there caught the damp air. Shoulder-length dark waves stuck to my neck and the elegant line of my jaw. Large dark eyes, narrow nose, pouty mouth—features people always read as a girl’s. I never corrected them. The lean lines of my body still settled weight in the right places: the heavy curve of my hips, the thick cheeks that jiggled faintly even when I walked with care, the tiny soft length nestled between smooth, honey-toned thighs. All of it was deliberate. I liked the way eyes lingered.
Local trainers whispered about the Lucario that ruled this stretch of forest. It had broken every ball thrown at it for years, they said. Aura sensed the intention before the throw, and the beast simply refused. I wanted it anyway. My Premier Ball sat ready in my palm as I followed the low, rhythmic pulse of energy through the undergrowth until the trees opened onto a clearing cut by a narrow waterfall. The air here was colder, heavy with the metallic tang of spray mixing with something warmer, denser—musk.
There it stood.
Nearly seven feet when it rose fully upright, steel-blue fur sleek with moisture, red eyes sharp and intelligent. The heavy scent of it hit me first—warm, animal, dense enough to coat the back of my throat. My gaze dropped without meaning to. Between those thick, powerful thighs a half-sheathed length already thickened at my scent, the tapered head glistening, veins standing out along twelve thick inches. The knot at the base swelled slowly, promising.
I lifted the ball. My voice stayed steady even as heat pooled low in my belly. “You’re mine now.”
The world tilted.
One moment I was mid-throw; the next the Premier Ball clattered uselessly into the moss and I was slammed face-down over a broad, moss-slick boulder. The impact drove the air from my lungs. A massive paw pinned the small of my back. Hot breath washed over the nape of my neck, followed by the rough scrape of a broad muzzle. Low, vibrating growls rolled through my ribs, deep enough that I felt them in my pelvis. My skirt was already flipped up. Thick claws hooked the edge of my white lace panties and shoved them aside; the thin fabric tore with a soft, final rip.
I twisted, tried to speak a command—something sharp, something that would make it stop—but the words dissolved into a startled gasp when that heavy, slick length dragged between my smooth thighs. The blunt, tapered head nudged my tight, unprepared entrance, smearing thick clear fluid across the soft, hairless skin. The Lucario did not pause. Did not wait. One powerful thrust punched forward.
Pain flared bright and white. The impossible girth stretched me open in a single brutal shove, the tapered head forcing the rim wider millimeter by millimeter until the sudden give let the first few inches bury themselves inside. My walls were shoved aside and tried to close behind the invading shaft; each ridge and vein dragged across sensitive tissue with deliberate friction. A thin slick of blood mixed with the pre already coating it. My fingers scrabbled at the stone. A broken sound tore from my throat—half protest, half something darker. The Pokémon’s hips rolled, driving deeper in long, grinding strokes. Each inch forced me wider. The wet, obscene stretch of it filled my senses; the heat of that massive cock burned as it claimed more of me with every thrust.
“S-stop—ah—Lucario, I order—”
The growl against my neck cut me off. A heavy paw closed around the back of my skull, fingers of force pressing my cheek harder into the moss. The next thrust drove deeper still, until I felt the broad flare of the knot kiss my rim. My own tiny length, barely three inches even fully hard, leaked steadily against the cool stone, untouched and twitching with every jolt. I catalogued the power even as my body betrayed me: the controlled force, the way aura pressed against my skin like a second set of hands, the absolute refusal to acknowledge any command.
The Lucario fucked me like it was teaching a lesson. Slow at first—long, grinding strokes that let me feel every contour of the shaft as it dragged along my inner walls—then harder. The wet slap of its hips against the thick, jiggling cheeks of my ass echoed through the clearing, mixing with the distant rush of the waterfall. Each impact made the soft flesh bounce and ripple. One paw left my back to grip a heavy cheek, kneading the plush meat, spreading me wider so it could watch itself disappear into me. Claws dug in just enough to sting. Then the open palm cracked down in a sharp, ringing spank that left heat blooming across my skin.
I cried out. The sound was high, needy, humiliating. Another spank followed, then another, until both cheeks burned and the flesh felt hot and mottled under the repeated blows. The same heavy cheeks that had drawn the eye now throbbed. The Pokémon’s muzzle dropped lower. Hot breath washed over the stretched rim where its cock held me open. A broad, rough tongue flattened against the junction and lapped greedily, tasting the mix of its own slick and the thin film of blood that came with the first brutal breach. It growled approval while its hips kept working—short, punishing thrusts that forced the knot to batter my entrance over and over.
My arms were yanked back. The Lucario shifted, pulling me off the boulder just enough to rearrange me. One moment I was bent over stone; the next my knees were forced apart on the moss, chest pressed down, ass forced high. The damp ground compressed under my weight; the cropped tank rode higher, the plush mounds of my chest dragging against the cool moss with every thrust, nipples peaking hard. The new angle let it drive even deeper. The tapered head punched against something deep inside me that made my vision spark. A low, almost amused rumble vibrated through its chest as the free paw slid under me, groping roughly, squeezing one soft mound until the flesh overflowed its grip. Then lower—past my navel, past the smooth plane of my lower belly—until thick fingers closed around my tiny cock and the delicate, hairless sac beneath it.
The paw turned the soft length this way and that, rough pad rubbing the underside with deliberate thoroughness. The small sac was cupped and tugged, the soft cock that fit almost entirely in one grip examined like a curiosity. Another growl, sharper this time, as if the discovery confirmed something. The fingers squeezed just hard enough to make me whimper, rolling the delicate flesh, humiliating in their care. Contrast burned through me: that massive, veined shaft still moving inside while this insignificant length leaked thin, weak fluid onto the moss. Then the paw released me and returned to my ass, spreading the thick cheeks wider so the Pokémon could stare at the place where we joined, watching every glistening inch reappear before slamming back in.
“Please—too big—ah, fuck—don’t—”
The words tumbled out broken, defiance cracking into involuntary praise of the stretch. The Lucario answered by wrapping one massive arm around my throat from behind, the crook of its elbow settling under my jaw. Pressure built slowly, cutting my air just enough that every thrust punched a wet, choked sound from me. At the same time its other paw tangled in my dark, wavy hair and yanked my head back, forcing my spine into a deep arch. The angle changed again. Now every stroke dragged along the front wall inside me, the knot battering my rim with increasing insistence. Fur slid over sweat-slick hips with a soft, continuous rasp. Moss compressed under my knees with each forward jolt.
I could feel myself stretching wider, the ring of muscle forced to accept more of that swelling base. Pain and pressure layered over each other until they blurred. My tiny cock jerked and leaked steadily, the soft length bouncing uselessly with every impact. The Lucario’s muzzle dropped to the side of my throat, broad tongue dragging hot, wet stripes over the sensitive skin of my neck and the curve of my shoulder while its hips never stopped ploughing into me. One massive arm stayed locked around my throat from behind, the crook of its elbow tightening in time with the deepest thrusts so every punch of that thick shaft stole another choked sound from me. The free paw roamed without pause—kneading the soft, rounded handfuls of my chest until the nipples peaked hard against its rough pads, then sliding lower to press and squeeze the progressive swell of my stomach, feeling how the cock inside forced the flesh outward with every grind. Fur rasped over sweat-slick skin; the metallic tang of the waterfall mist mixed with its musk as one knee was forced higher, changing the internal path so the shaft drove across a different set of sensitive tissue. The sudden shift wrenched a higher cry from me.
The knot finally forced its way inside.
One savage thrust and the swollen base punched past the tight ring with a sudden, almost splitting pressure, locking us together. The lock stole what little breath the arm around my throat still allowed. I came with a shattered cry, my soft cock spurting thin, weak ropes across the moss while my body clenched rhythmically around the massive length buried inside me. The Lucario’s growl deepened into a roar that vibrated through my pelvis. Its hips jerked in short, grinding pulses as it unloaded, thick, hot spurts flooding me in heavy waves. I felt every pulse, every gush of seed forced deeper by the sealed knot. My belly began to swell—soft, gradual pressure under my navel as the volume had nowhere else to go. The stretch of my stomach grew more pronounced with each fresh pulse; the skin tightened until the rounded curve of it was visible even from my bent position, shifting under the cropped tank.
The Pokémon held me there, locked, while its cock continued to twitch and spill. One paw stroked almost absently over the growing swell of my belly, pressing lightly as if testing how full I had become. The other remained in my hair, keeping my head pulled back so I could only gasp and whimper around the arm still loosely circling my throat. Minutes stretched. The knot throbbed. My insides felt overfull, the heat of its release seeping into every corner. The distant waterfall kept its steady rush; the Premier Ball lay just out of reach in the moss, a small red-and-white reminder of the intention that had brought me here.
Only when the swelling finally began to soften did the Lucario ease its hold. The knot slipped free with a wet, obscene sound, and a thick rush of seed followed, spilling down my thighs in heavy ropes that painted the moss. I collapsed forward onto my hands and knees, trembling, the soft curves of my body marked with scratches, handprints, and the glossy sheen of its release. My tiny cock hung soft and spent between my legs. The thick cheeks of my ass remained spread, the abused rim twitching and staying open, seed running in continuous thick streams down the insides of my thighs and pooling beneath me.
The Lucario regarded me with something almost like amusement. It nudged the discarded Premier Ball toward me with one paw, the red eyes gleaming, then stepped back just far enough to watch. Fur still glistened with moisture and the residue of what we had done. The air carried the mixed scents of musk, blood, and the metallic mist of the waterfall.
I reached for another ball with a shaky, determined smile, seed still dripping, belly still faintly rounded from how thoroughly I had been filled, the open rim still pulsing with residual throb. The capture attempt was far from over.
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