You wouldn't fuck a pokémon.

You're sure there's some sort of trainer code that looks down - way down - on that sort of thing. Being an upstanding trainer is your life. You win because you do things by the book, and the book doesn't say anything about intimate relations with one's pokémon being okay. In fact it implies the opposite. How could you live with yourself? How could you do battle again and look your opponent in the eye, knowing what you know, having been where you've been. They would be able to see it; to smell it on you like a sweet, sickly perfume. A sinful miasma. They wouldn't say anything of course, but you'd catch them looking at you sideways only to quickly glance away when they notice you've noticed. And you're certain you'd soon find your reputation no longer carrying the clout it once had as the rumours circulated like a venereal disease among the tight-knit trainer community. You'd be an outcast, eventually a pariah. Maybe they'd even take your pokémon away and give them to more responsible owners. Trainers who are just a little less sick, less perverted. You could lose everything.

You wouldn't fuck a pokémon. Well... you'd be lying to yourself if you claimed the idea had never crossed your mind, especially when she's sprawled out on her side or back, the bright pink under her belly showing, shameless and needful... When she smells like that - like she smells now - that decadent melange that makes your face flush with heat and your gonads flutter. The thought had definitely crossed your mind often enough to have carved out a well-trodden path. Yes, there would be no denying it, at least in the privacy of your head. But that didn't mean you'd do it. You're decent, a model citizen. It would be wrong! Shameful to take advantage of the pokémon over which you reign, wise and authoritarian. She looks up to you like a student looks up to their teacher. She looks up to you like a prostitute on her knees in front of you, licking her lips. You're her trainer, her master, and you're not weak-willed enough to succumb to her enticing scent. When she beckons to you, you turn away. That's how it's always been, no matter how deeply the reckless thoughts have wheedled their way into your mind; no matter how much your body has wanted it. How much you've wanted it. So badly... but you'd never before compromised your integrity as a reputable, respected trainer. Now wasn't the time to start, to throw it all away.

People can look you in the eye now and be reassured that you would never - could never - haven't ever - fucked a pokémon. What kind of person do they think you are? Only a lowlife deviant would do that, certainly not an upstanding trainer with a good record. You had too much to lose if anyone were to know. If they could see through the mask and see the real you... glowing pink and brimming with unheeded need, the need born of her attraction. That path in your mind your lustful thoughts have traversed so many times before, cutting through swirling pink mist... it had a gate at one end through which there was no return.

You unbutton your pants and step forward, inhaling her... filling yourself with her, your body standing at rigid attention. You could keep this a secret. You're well-respected, competent. No one else will know about your indiscretion. She won't tell anyone. You can tell from the look in her eyes and the smile curling up at the corners of her long, reptilian mouth. She's not as innocent as the others. You get the sense that she wants this as much as you do... that she always has. It's a need, as deeply rooted and important to her as food and water. It would be wrong to deny her. She's under your care. You're her trainer, and you're her trainee.

You wouldn't fuck a pokémon. That's what you'll tell them if they ask... if they smell her on you. They'll believe you.