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Pumpkin Pie

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She liked to sing.

That much was obvious when Calem found her serenading the Melancolie Path. It was nice actually. He wondered why everyone was actively trying to flee the area around her. That seemed somewhat rude.

After all, it was only a Gourgeist.

He recalled her being flattered by him listening to her song. There was a somewhat peaceful tone to her voice, despite how it could be deemed somewhere between a cry and a ghostly wail. She was a ghost type. More often than not, most ghost types who use Sing have a fairly spooky tone to them anyway.

It was a shame Calem remember nothing else from that encounter.

He woke up in the middle of a field with a Pokeball in hand housing a new member of his team.

He named her Octy.

She looked like an Octy.

Octy really liked to sing. She seemed more than fond of lulling him to sleep. It was nice for a while.

Then came those odd dreams.


Calem normally didn’t dream of his own room very often, but here he was. Things felt…dream-ish but also not. He had little explanation as to why his body refused to follow the simple command of moving. Aiming his head upward was seemingly a chore in of itself but doing so revealed the source of his lethargy was laid plainly on his stomach.

With Octy’s slender back was turned, it was hard to miss her…sizable hips anchored to his abdomen. Her silky orange-hued hair attended to something he couldn’t see. It was odd that such was a Gourgeist’s primary means of physical contact. Did they actually have arms under the massive locks obscuring her body?

He heard her humming jovially to herself while she fiddled with the knot of his favorite Togepi print pajamas.


Calem knew he was talking. Rather, his lips were moving yet no sound was coming out. Within the dazy dreamscape, Octy was at its center, radiating a weirdly potent presence through the thick of it all. The pumpkin gazed behind her, catching the mischievously ecstatic grin that matched the one on her lower body. To him specifically.

Only eerie humming reached Calem’s ears. Her stubby legs planted on either side of his lower body, as though to handle whatever job of keeping him in place that her hips weren’t already doing. Easily, she kept him transfixed on her. More or less, on her backside. He didn’t really have much choice in the matter.

She freed him, chirping in surprise from her trainer’s half-mast. The spot at the innermost part of his stomach grew damp at a moment’s notice. At least he didn’t have to guess where exactly that part of her anatomy lied.

How did that work exactly?

From where her back ended and…the rest of her began, there was an indentation. Like how one would slice open the top of a pumpkin in the transition to a jack-o-lantern. Calem could’ve sworn that Octy wore her lower body like a pair of fruit-shaped pants. It might’ve explained the butt crack.

Sweet Arceus, she had a butt crack.

Why couldn’t he stop looking at her butt cra-


Octy didn’t seem to wait for his muddled brain to reach the end of his epiphany. Her all-encompassing hair anchored themselves to his legs as she hefted herself up and drove down as far as she could.

Now he definitely knew where that part of her anatomy was.

He heard her coo softly, rolling her hips on top of him. It was difficult to gauge if the dream itself was enclosing on his body or if she was just that tight. Octy’s prehensile hair was just as active. Fingers teased his delicate sack as well as…

Were they considered delicate if this was a dream?

Could he actually feel it if anything…unsavory happened to them?

For reasons he had been raised not to say out loud, Calem figured it to be best to put those thoughts under for now. For his own sanity.

Octy joyfully bounced on his lap. He could only hear the noisy smacking of flesh as it was the only other sound to survive in this existential limbo.

The Gourgeist purred and moaned. Impaling herself on his member would cause her ample bottom to jiggle in front of him each time. It was cute how big it was.

Octy must have noticed his staring as just when the thought passed his mind as she wasted little time taking hold of her trainer’s inactive hands. In moments, he was groping the not-quite-flesh with energy he, up until now, didn’t know he had. Pokemon physiology was weird, Calem resolutely concluded. His fingers pressed and sank into the skin of Octy’s rump. The smooth texture was reminiscent of the fruit she imitated while also still being as soft and squishy as…well, a butt.

Calem’s body seemed to act outside of its volition. Hips were thrusting upwards to meet her motions, making her purr lovingly. Their combined movements shook up the bed something fierce, exerting the squeaky wood in ways that would surely garner the ire from just about anyone within walking distance from his house. Well, his dreamt house rather. Did that mean his dream mother could hear him downstairs too? And dream Serena next door?

Octy seemed to care not for the hypothetical denizens of the boy’s psyche. She impaled herself on his length with passion, her eerie wails steadily heightening in tempo. Insides clamped intensely around his length. Heated gasps escaped her reddened face little by little.

He lost track of how much time had passed – assuming time was actually passing. Movements from sensual touches along her slender back to even the pumps of his hips were all committed to her own gratification. Which was odd since he was fairly certain his body had been running off of fumes by now. Dreams were weird.

Surprisingly still going strong, their lovemaking had eventually led to their roles swapping entirely. Barely coherent or in his right mind, Calem had taken to laying her on her front while his hips pistoned into her from behind. The Gourgeist had immediately clawed for the nearest pillow to mewl into. With nothing but a dopey grin and an overwhelming pleasure to wring his mind dry, Calem heedlessly fell prey to the chaos.

The trainer’s body fell completely autonomous, powered by energies he must have had bounds of. A euphoric beat rang in his ears. His body pulsed and his muscles tensed. Octy’s moans of approval gave a clear indication that whatever he was doing, he was doing it right.

A sheen of sweat layered most of his body as if he’d been doing everything in his power to coax out his impending eruption. Through gritted teeth, Calem saw it through; the rumbles and waves were a clear indication that he was closing in on his breaking point.

He couldn’t groan nor whine. Not a single sound saw fit to exit the young man’s throat. Octy made enough noise for the two of them. Calem buried himself into her as far as he could dare to try, his hands squeezed and grasped for the wonderful flesh her backside provided.

Something was definitely happening. Calem didn’t immediately reach that conclusion – in fact, his brain was naught but total mush, trying to reform itself to a state that allowed for comprehensive thought. Everything felt hot. The type of heat that would radiate from a flickering candle rather than a raw flamethrower. It encapsulated him before traveling to his still moving loins.

The climax was subtle but it certainly wasn’t over in an instant. Like the dying down of a high. From the calm that had steadily graced Octy’s voice, he had reason to believe that she reached nirvana, cooing and mewling comfortably below him while the white-hot strands filled her. He felt lighter than air.

Then Calem collapsed.


His eyes lazily opened and closed to the emerging sun rays illuminating his room.

Of the things that Calem groggily noted while the rest of his body slowly awoke itself, one of them happened to be his pillow being far more comforting than it normally is. Or rather isn’t. Lumpy thing was a hand-me-down from before he even moved to Kalos. Though now its flat lack of comfort was substituted by an inviting fullness and its old greasy hair smell oddly replaced by a comforting autumn scent.

While his eyelids slowly opened, he found himself presented with a story to piece together.

Calem’s room was a mess. His lamp didn’t survive the roughly 2-foot drop from his nightstand unscathed. The bookshelf of scriptures that had been collecting dust over the years had finally been opened – only to be floor decorations. The game system he kept somewhere in front of the tv was now missing its gamepad.

He wasn’t as distraught about that as he should be.

Pajamas haphazardly strewn across…everywhere; pants on the floor, shirt hanging from the ceiling fan, and underwear nowhere in sight. Logic dictated that such a combination meant that he was naked. Togepi wouldn’t have been pleased.

Hazy memories of the night prior unraveled, though nothing explaining why his room looked like it suffered Magnitude 10. Worse, this was only one of many previous instances.

He did manage to solve at least one mystery.

As the trainer disappointedly came to realize, the newfound pillow he buried his face into wasn’t quite a pillow per se.

“Mmm…tastes like pumpkin pie.”

Octy got him again.