Missing Pokemon.

The tales always started subtle. Insidious. Innocent enough to be huge. An absent Lucario. A Greninja that disappeared during hide and seek. Some said the Greninja planned it. Yeah, likely story. No good Pokemon ever abandoned their trainer. Something was up.

Did some research. Asked around. Gossip about a Hypno. A special "club". Ties to Team Rocket. All these pieces. Definitely a connection. When something was amiss in Ryme City, Detective Pikachu was on the case. Didn't matter how dirty the case was. Somebody had to clean up the muck. Guess that somebody would have to be him.

Came up with a lead. Route 34. He'd never heard of it before. Ever. Sounded risky. But a lead was never a straight line. It would have to do. If he was gonna go, he wasn't gonna go alone. You didn't go alone to a Rocket's favorite joint. Didn't want to become another missing case.

Went inside. Half naked Pokemon. Pignite groping a Goodra's dripping ass cheek. Scrafty pole dancing on the stage. A heavy mist that stunk vaguely like burnt carpet and grass. And sweat. Definitely sweat. A Quagsire greedily stroking himself in the corner.

Psyduck gripped meekly onto the detective's arm. He saw what Pikachu saw. All men. All lecherous. All sinning. This kind of joint. Very uncomfortable. The faster they got through there, the better.

That gave Pikachu an idea. Splitting up. Sure, bad in the movies, but it never failed him once. Find Hypno as fast as possible. Seemed efficient. Psyduck was nervous, but that was just how it had to be.

By himself now. The wanting eyes of a nearby Charmeleon making him nervous. Distance yourself. Get away. Bump into a Lopunny. The Lopunny is a man. Disgraceful. Apologize. Move. The air is so heavy.

That mist, overwhelming him. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breaths becoming pants. Feeling hot. Feeling sweaty. The air is so heavy. He feels heavy. Everything feels heavy. So hot in his uniform… Focus. Find the Hypno. Find the Hypno… Find them…

A blue curtain… open the curtain… Swampert and a Snorlax, desperately kissing, drool connecting their lips like a strand of slime. Just staring… staring… no, no no. Wrong. Look… look elsewhere…

A purple curtain. A Sableye, with his fat, purple dick out, just groping at the cock, grinning at the detective… pointing at the curtain behind him… Team Rocket hat… oh, that's right, he was here for Team Rocket…

A pink curtain. Turn around, gently grip the fabric… and push… push, and find what you're looking for.

His heart pounded, and his heavy breaths stopped in an instant.

The Hypno's belly was fluffy. Real fluffy. The kind of fluffy you could just rest your head into. Gorgeous, shimmering purple latex. You could just run your hands over it. That hard, throbbing cock. It was the same color as he was. He could just… just…

"Congratulations, Detective. You found me. Now, why don't you take off your clothes?"

Wait. Why would he do that? He had to collect his thoughts. Whilst undressing, of course. So many beautiful costumes. Glistening suits, left and right, with their own allure. As his clothes fell to the floor, he felt the heavy steam dance around his ass.

"You've come to see me, haven't you?"

The detective nodded. That was correct.

"And why is that?"

They were here to find the Hypno. But why? As his member started to rise, and feelings of sensitivity thickened, he started painting again.

Meanwhile, the Impidimp and Sableye finished easing those tight, heavy latex stockings around his thighs. So nice. Cool. Fulfilling. His head was getting lighter.

"You're here, because…"

The Detective moaned as he was squeezed and played with, his body ravaged like a toy, his arms enveloped in rubber. Completely vulnerable and open to a crowd of Rocket goons.

He was here… b-because…

"Because you want…"

He… he wanted…

"To join…"

To… join…

"Team Rocket."

…

…

The detective stopped for a second, needing to gather his thoughts again. That couldn't have been right. Team Rocket was an evil organization, wasn't it? Wouldn't that be wrong?

"Say it, detective."

But… the Hypno was making sense. He'd come all this way to worship their bodies, feel his body completely abused by the gripping claws and that throbbing yellow cock.

"I… I want…"

To feel himself completely humiliated at the hands of criminals, lowered from his esteemed position, as he must have fantasized before.

"To…"

Subservience would be nice. It would help him take the edge off. Loosen up. Forfeit his responsibilities. Being told what to do would be wonderful. This was his reward.

"J-join…"

No. Something was off. He was missing something. He had to

"Team Rocket…"

…

…

Yeah. That felt right.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you, grunt."

The detective smiled. It was much easier to speak with clarity now.

"…I want to join Team Rocket… as long as you have good coffee."

And the Hypno smirked.

"Welcome to the team, grunt."

The hat began to land on his head. He could feel something heavy - so very heavy, and foreboding - pressing against that ass of his. The grunt moaned with such excitement, his body shivering with anticipation of the carnal knowledge he was about to acquire.

The dildo pushed in, and all desire for knowledge forfeited itself against the full, intense pressure of the phallic object entering his body, all thoughts lost in the desperately heavy sensations overtaking his mind. His body felt a chill. His shoulders felt sore. He panted, staring at the wonderful Hypno before him, violently romantic thoughts overtaking his flesh.

His mind, body, and soul lying completely naked before the criminal, he began to find a sense of belonging. A yearning towards the freedom, the fun, the emptiness of a criminal mind, the inclination towards pleasure, sin, and lechery. Before him, a crowd of goons, horrible, evil goons, caring for nothing more but to satisfy their own desires, and share in each other's corruption.

And now, he was like a drop of water being mixed in with the mud, stirred, stirred, stirred, until no sign of his purity was left. Dirty, filthy, tainted, just like the goons around him. And now… he was mud.

Being mud was freedom - freedom, in ways that his previously objective brain could have never comprehended. Absolute, complete freedom. Freedom. Freedom. Freedom!