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Maternal Instinct

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That stupid old door fell over for the hundredth time.

Brendan told himself time and time again that he was gonna fix the door to his secret base but those things never came cheap. Without it, his secret base was more of an almost-decently-concealed headquarters. He was starting to need Secret Power less and less to actually get inside.

Hoenn’s perpetual second banana trodded over to the lone bed that sat miserably in the corner. His base was just as despondent. Whereas most trainers would decorate their spaces with vibrant dolls and other paraphernalia, Brendan’s was mostly barren.

Not like he had time to decorate the place especially with him keeping his team in the most tip-top condition for the Pokemon League. This base would only be a pit stop when prepping to make the trip over to Ever Grande City. His goal:


He spat the name with venom matching that of a Seviper. The young man plopped depressingly miserable face down on the depressingly miserable bed of his depressingly miserable base. May Maple was an impenetrable wall that Brendan had yet to properly overcome. Not once in his mind did he think some yokel from out of the region – starting her journey the same day as him, no less – would manage to dethrone the current Champion and gain his title.

She would have that kind of decor in her base but not him. Brendan was a trooper if nothing else. He need not the pitiable sways of an oversized Mudkip doll in his place of-

“Clea, please stop shoving that thing in my face.”

His Pokemon disobeyed him.

“Clea, that is the symbol of the enemy.” A despondent arm tried to wave the blasphemous toy from his sight. Mudkip plushies sold like wildfire in Hoenn, even more so after May’s televised victory over Steven Stone using its tertiary form. Brendan wanted nothing to do with it.

The stern call of his Gardevoir suggested the opposite.

It was within Clea’s nature to be protective and caring of her trainer. Gardevoir were known for their outstanding loyalty and she was no different. Clea did, however, adopt a more involved approach to her natural instinct, much to his chagrin.

He blamed his mother – no, that was harsher than he intended – he blamed his consistent trips home after routine losses at the hands of the dreaded red bandana. Mrs. Birch gave his constant brooding no quarter. Brendan wished he knew Clea was taking mental notes from her the whole time.

With the conviction of an annoyed housewife not looking to deal with her son’s on-and-off emo phase, Clea yanked him out of his gloomy stupor and sat him upright to face her. Again she handed him the plush.

That was when the stare down began.

Given who her husband was, Mrs. Birch was strict when she needed to be; able to keep the likes of her eccentric husband from running off from the dinner table after receiving calls from the lab with only a look. Clea need only witness it once.

Brendan’s will began to fade soon enough. “Fine, fine.” He begrudgingly accepted her offering like a pouty toddler. How so much firmness could fit into a four-foot-tall package was beyond him.

It wasn’t entirely clear if she was content with Brendan’s “compliance”. The Gardevoir’s stoic nature left her much more difficult to get a read on compared to the rest of his team. She was enigmatic, showing little interest in much anything.

Which made it all the more unsettling when her focus was geared to him.

They were both on the depressingly miserable bed now, upgrading it to just the mildly gloomy bed.

Maybe Brendan could’ve afforded to put a light or two in his sorry excuse for a base. A chore for when he managed to cast off that “second best trainer in Hoenn” moniker.

His returning scowl didn’t go unnoticed. Lingering salt-laden thoughts had blinded him from seeing Clea levitating closer. He quickly forgot the psychic Pokemon was adept at reading thoughts and emotions. It was only through her levitation that she was able to loom above him like an impending parent.

Brendan caught himself. He decided to fight back the bile in his throat and hug the doll closer to sell his charade. “Wait, wait! I’m holding it! I’m holding the thing, see?”

Rather than receive another death glare, Brendan felt a tender palm on his head. While reading her was the same level of difficulty as pulling teeth, Clea had her trainer read like a manual. It wasn’t like his not-obsession wasn’t common knowledge. He’d seen the Elite 4 so many times, they were on a first-name basis.

“Ok, fine,” Brendan groaned in defeat. “Maybe I’ll…take a break with the Pokemon League for a while. ”

Clea liked that idea.

It was becoming painfully clear that Clea took her “mother figure” role quite seriously. He wondered just how much she imprinted on his own mother. In fact, she was even starting to look…like…

Oh, Arceus.

Brendan’s vivid imagination was his downfall. The two traitors attached to his skull refused to focus on anything but his Pokemon.

Clea moved behind him. She hugged his back; to soothe him, Brendan presumed. He wanted to appreciate the gesture but the glaring comparison refused to release its hold on his psyche. He wondered if she was sensing it.

She’s a psychic type, why wouldn’t she sense emotions?

His brain begged him not to make mention of just how much Clea took after his mother. He made certain not to think of her newly attained softer form; nor of the warm, welcoming feeling of her shapely thighs that would no longer be restricted by her dress…fronds…thing. Brendan had 100% paid no notice of her ample bust, comfortably pressing against his back as Clea embraced him. How fortunate that her chest was large enough keep her iconic red spike from stabbing him.

Not that he was paying it any mind.

He thanked Jirachi’s stars she wasn’t in front of him at the moment or else she wouldn’t be needing emotion-sensing abilities to know what he was currently feeling.

Assuming she didn’t already.

Brendan noticed she was getting a bit more…handsy. “Clea?”

Since her days as a Kirlia, Clea developed a habit of replicating his emotions, Brendan was quick to learn.


Clea’s patience would wane whenever he himself was irritated. She would wistfully linger in silence whenever he was jovial and would beside herself on the verge of tears when he was sad. It was through these actions that Brendan was even able to discern past her stoicism.

So, what happened when he was horny?

The answer came in the form of a discreet hand slipping under his shirt. Rapid thrumming from his chest threatened to force his heart directly out of his rib cage. Clea’s touch seemed to stimulate directly to his nerves, leaving goosebumps on his delicate skin.

Clea’s head rested on his shoulder. Brendan had no other choice than to let her stay there. He was unsure if she was responsible for rendering him so powerless or if that was just his body’s natural response to her machinations. Another response called for attention right below his waist.

Her voice toned in a mystically warbling echo, she huskily whispered in his ear – a sound of intrigue at her trainer’s little friend. As he expected, Clea’s hand moved down but stopped before any contact was made.

Brendan held his breath, uncertain of what she was doing. Clea glanced at her trainer, her expression unmoved and beyond unnerving to him. He was riled now and she had brought the two of them to a screeching halt.

Clea…” He put on his stern trainer voice as best he could. Why’d you stop, was the next thing he was going to say but his pride didn’t seem to want him to. Such a question would suggest that he was, dare he say, enjoying this.

The Gardevoir’s palm found purchase on his stomach, drawing circles around the patch of skin. Brendan swallowed the lump in his throat in hopes of keeping his breathing in check. So close yet so far, he thought. Clea knew just the same – that was why she stopped above the place he needed her most.

What did she want him to do?


Brendan paled. The color drained from his face once the word popped into his mind. He dared to steal a look at his Pokemon. Clea was staring right back at him, this time with expectancy. He was certain.

He looked at her sourly. He opened his mouth to speak but he caught himself, cleverly chuckling to himself and waggling a finger at her. “Ohoho, I bet you think you’re really cute right now huh?”

Clea said nothing, her stare unchanged.

“Trying to get me to beg on my knees like some degenerate right?”

Again, nothing.

“Well, it’s not gonna work. Mm-mm. No way.”

Silent still.

“It’s-It’s not working. Look at me, does it look like it’s working? ‘Cause…it’s not.”

No Shedinja in the world could compare to her talent in immobility.

Brendan straightened his posture, keeping his head facing forward at the leafy texture of the wall. Arceus knows he wouldn’t be having any traitorous thoughts through doing that. “Nnnnnope. Not working.” It was never going to work. Not while he was still upstanding and not at all Pokephiliac trainer.

A sharp intake of breath.

“HHRRRAGGGH,” Brendan wailed into his hat, unceremoniously ripped from his head and held in his face. “NO! NO! NONONO! NO! DON’T DO IT! DON’T! DO IT! YOU! WILL NOT! DO IT!”


“…Ok, do it. Please. Now. Please. I’m begging.”

He purposefully chose not to look at Clea but something told him that if he did, he might’ve seen some semblance of a smirk.

At her trainer’s call – and his call only – Clea snaked her hand into Brendan’s pants. She nuzzled against Brendan’s neck, further taking in his scent; a certain musk that arose from the stresses of split-second decisions in the heat of Pokemon battles. It was impossible to ignore. Clea’s lips soon traced around his shoulders.

Brendan squirmed from her tantalizing fingers. If there was to be a time he ever regretted using a TM to teach a Gardevoir Thunderbolt, it wouldn’t be now. Fingertips dipped with minor sparks of electricity was something Brendan never once believed could be comfortable on a dick. He’s never been this glad to be wrong.

He bit his lower lip, all but certain he was drooling. She wrangled his length from his pants, her palms “accidentally” jerking him off. She purred into his ear before kissing the spot behind it. Brendan’s treasured hat was carelessly flung aside, giving Clea’s fingers free rein of his brunette hair.

The Gardevoir laid him down, coddling him like a child. The difference in size made the positioning feel awkward; Brendan's head lying in the shorter Pokemon’s lap. He was less inclined to complain, however, since he was being given a gorgeous angle underneath her breasts.

...Why was he like this?

Clea continued to give attention to her trainer's budding erection, telekinetically casting aside his pants. The motion of her hand was hypnotic. She moved with a meticulous slowness, teasing him and making him yearn for more. 

"When did you learn how to do this?"

Brendan was uncertain whether or not her soft chirps were a response to his question. With how "friendly" some of his other Pokémon were, he might've had a rough idea of how Clea's own tendencies started. 

She began increasing her tempo. With each stroke, Brendan grew harder in her hand, left in amazement that he was already close to bursting.

"Seriously, when did y-mmph," Clea answered him with an exposed nipple to his mouth. It didn't take long for him to get the message; just let it happen. Eventually, she shamefully drove him over the edge.

Everything blurred into white. His body wracked and shuddered throughout his climax, hot strands of white staining her fingers. She cooed and he suckled, his body resigning to her loving grasp.

Or at least, part of him wanted to.

Common decency had won out, allowing him to yank himself off of her. Clea's strong psychic resonance made him feel almost as empty as she did as he broke away. Brendan powered through it.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," he swiped the spittle from the side of his mouth. He made a mental note to chastise himself about sucking Pokémon tits later. "You had your fun and everything but we really shouldn't be-"

A psychic push held him back down on the bed. He caught a brief glance of his Pokémon's face, namely the lusty smile she kept.


She was smiling

Of all the times she could've chosen to break out of her shell, of course, she chose now. He was being hit with a myriad of empathic sensations, culminating into a mental high that defied understanding. Brendan was quite literally struggling to hold onto his sanity. "Clea," he attempted to maintain some level of sternness but he only ended up sounding needy.

The Gardevoir cradled his head tenderly before she began to crawl above him. Their emotions were linked now; as Clea desired to be further locked in fond embrace, so did he.

Hot, dripping arousal now hung over his face. Clea's solid thighs rested on either side of his head. He felt her heavenly bosom brushing against his abdomen. She must have been working some sort of spell on his body as he was somehow already hard once more.

Clea's attention fell on his member. Brendan could hardly see what she was doing but the warm air enveloping him made it clear that she was admiring her current view. Her mounds pressed softly against his abdomen, included the ruby tinted spade embedded in her chest. Thankfully, it wasn't at all sharp enough to cause injury but the mere sensation of it seemed to intensify the empathic link between them.

He seriously had to be high right now.

Maybe if his Pokémon Champion dream goes bust, he could be the next Professor to research Pokémon originated drugs.

His mother would have some interesting topics to bring up with her neighbors.

Milky white skin had now obscured most of Brendan's face. His view was eclipsed by a pair of soft, plump cheeks. An intoxicating scent of budding arousal filled his nostrils almost instantly. Brendan's inhibitions all but melted away when her juices dripped directly onto his lips. Clea made an urging noise, slighting squeezing his face with her thighs.

She wanted him to reciprocate.

Fighting through the lethargy of his arms, Brendan brought his hands to her massive rear. He wasn't sure if it was really Clea who compelled him to want to be sat on or if he was just that horny. She moaned coyly, wiggling his hips on top of his face. It was utter heaven.

Brendan didn't know what compelled his tongue to slide out. Seeing her pink puckered hole linger so close aroused some primal hunger in him. He nipped around her rim, feeling her whine at an octave higher than normal. Something told him Clea enjoyed that. Following her sounds of approval, Brendan kissed and pecked at her buttocks. Her back arched, pressing her butt further onto him.

He wasn't turned off by the salty taste miraculously enough. Any focus he had within his muddled head was directed towards her pleasure. Tender hands kneaded Clea’s pillowy rear while his tongue had made its way to her. Easily, he slipped into her walls, feeling her clench and tighten around him. With Clea’s growing moans and cries, Brendan was glad he’d made his secret base out in the middle of scenic nowhere.

Clea didn't leave her beloved trainer unattended. Some psychic transmission must have been shared, as now she was letting her finger tease around his own rim. It stunned him for a minute, being hit with an entirely foreign feeling. Her finger moved not unlike how his tongue was moments ago, merely teasing and exploring his inner walls.

A mouth had enclosed around his erection, tentatively beginning to suck. Brendan was steadily losing himself in this haze. The quivering in his body intensified as if every motion she made manually sent shockwaves all the way to his core. He should've gone into sensory overload by now with all the feelings that needed to be processed through his brain. However, there was a sensation that burned with the most intensity.

"Ahh...shit, I'm...getting real close, Clea...Clea?"

The Gardevoir's body moved automatically. Her arms hooked Brendan's legs, allowing her to properly piston her head on his cock like a Rampardos smashing its head on the ground.

Mental whispers-

No. Telepathic shrieks rang in his ears, their sole message ordering for him to continue attending to her burning heat. He took it as a sign that she wasn't far behind. 

Brendan’s face was trapped in a leg lock now, Clea’s thighs desperately grinding together to coax her approaching climax. His tongue made its way to her aching sex, glistening wet with her love juices.

He gave first. Clea hardly relented from her attack, mercilessly sucking him off while fondling his ass. Brendan gave a weakened groan, finally exploding inside of her mouth. Clea had greedily taken drop after drop of what was given. Somehow, he still found the strength to dutifully continue eating out her pussy while she grinded herself atop his face. It wasn’t long before she too barreled to her finish line.

Moments filled with pleasured gasps and breathless whines came to pass. The no-longer depressing secret base had fallen silent save for Clea’s eventual cuddling up to her trainer on their shared bed.

Brendan had opened his mouth to speak, make some snide comment to himself for easily falling prey to his Pokemon’s sensual advances.


His body had other plans, soon deciding that he was to be wholly exhausted after such an ordeal. Clea’s empathic link had worn down considerably, leaving a weak tingle in the back of his head. Within the final vestiges of their shared emotions, Brendan found a sense of satisfaction, curiously coupled with a feeling of accomplishment.

The memory of how he had even gotten to this point was hazy at best. All he could concentrate on was how comfortable it was to be held against Clea’s chest and how heavy his eyelids had gotten. His shirt, matted with sweat mixed with other obscene juices, had been unceremoniously tossed off, allowing her to coddle Brendan properly. With his eyelids becoming heavier by the second, his last sight before drifting off was a pair of plush lips pecking against his own.

He was sure whatever had been ailing him prior would rear its head again soon enough.


May had known Brendan for quite a bit. His drive to better himself had been led by his love of Pokémon and Pokémon battling. A drive that kept him aiming for the title of Champion no matter how many loses he suffered. She respected that. Admired it even.

By that logic, she had been surprised to not see his intense grimace around the Pokémon League for some time. May was rather looking forward to it this time. 

News had traveled from Professor Birch soon enough:

Completely bedridden with an ongoing migraine for the past week. May felt more responsible than she should've been, consistently reserving a spot for him to challenge her additional times than she could count. 

She appreciated his tenacity but perhaps she should be reminding him of his own personal health. A mental note she made as she strolled up to his room.

"Hey, Brendan? It's May. Your parents said you weren't feeling hot so I thought you could use some-"

She hung on the last word as she was met with a...familiar sight.


The titular trainer was strewn across his bed, nursing an ice pack on his head and a moody frown. There was a new tenant in the time-out corner. Clea sat cross-legged and stoic, unable to tell whether or not she was annoyed...or smug.


"I don't want to talk about it."

May pursed her lips, recalling the familiar incident regarding his giant, touchy-feely fire chicken.

"Did you...?"

"Don't. Want. To talk. About it."

She briefly glanced at the misbehaved Embrace Pokémon, seemingly staring something more interesting on the floor with a tinge of pink on her face.

A soft smile made its way to her face. "Don't worry, I don't judge. We all get curious right?"

He buried his aching head into his pillow, praying to Arceus for the suffering to end. Judging by the sound of someone casually sitting on his bed, that didn't seem like any time soon.

May's candid and jovial attitude had worn Brendan's nerves thin and she didn't even know. 

"Man, you know I actually met this one champion from the Alola region and she said it's actually not bad!"

A chill ran down his spine. He wasn't looking in her direction but he could still feel it. Feel her. A pair of eyes, laden with lustful intent and loving desire. Somewhere inside of Clea's vast pool of moves and attacks, the Leer that had been cast away from her time as a mere Ralts had never truly gone away.

As May gabbed on about her Champion friend's questionable sex life, Brendan received grim premonitions of his own soon enough.

The migraine felt like the more desirable option by comparison.