This is part of a Pokemon fan body horror comic/visual novel/thing illustrated by Spepingooze and scripted and written by me. The current full story, a link to part one and all current pages can be found here. https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/499p8fv3iuowtbue7ny6b/P.K.M.N-Infestation-Part-2.paper?rlkey=h5r64j37gncwbe3evrv9ams9f&dl=0

Check out more of Seepingooze's work here. https://seepingooze.newgrounds.com/

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The tip of a glossy, shined leather thigh boot tapped impatiently against the apartment's sunbaked veranda. Team Rocket Grunt Five Four Eight Six Seven, Vivian, scowled unhappily at the lack of response to the rung doorbell.

"What's taking so long? Is anybody even home?"

Vivian wasn't used to being out this long in natural light, let alone the seemingly perpetual dry heat of Stow-On-Side. The town was suffering a heat wave, but from everything she had heard, the temperature was rarely anything less than scorching.

'How the hell does that work, anyhow?'

She bitterly thought to herself, taking the weather itself, like most things, as a personal slight.

"I had heard that Galar was famous for crappy weather, but I thought it was all endless rain and gloom. This town feels like an oven.'

Not that a mild temperate day would have improved Vivian's mood. She would inevitably find fault in something or someone that would poison her thoughts. Among her squad, her sour attitude had become a source of mockery. Toxic Viv, they called her, but only when they thought they were out of earshot lest she Unleash her Muk on them.

Vivian's face itched in the dry breeze. She ran her black glove across her forehead, removing the layer of sweaty grime from her pale skin. She clicked her tongue in disdain. The red dust blowing from the town's dirt roads got everywhere. She would soon be cleaning it of her unmentionables at this rate.

'That does it! I've given them more than enough time to answer. I might as well just let myself inside so I can take a quick look around for the Yanma and then get out of this damn heat already.'

Vivian testily twisted the door knob. To her mild surprise, the apartment door opened smoothly. A crack of gloom widened before the door thudded loudly on the end of a thin chain lock.

'Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. Right. The squad leader said I could break in if no one were home.'

Vivian glowered sourly past her locks of neon green hair into the dimly lit entryway. Her nose crinkled as a robust musky odour, reminiscent of burnt cinnamon mixed with sweat and Magikarp oil, wafted from the opening.

'Ugh! Whoever lives here must like incense candles and ointments a whole lot. Still, gotta make sure I'm not barging in on anyone uninvited.'

"Hello!? Anyone here?! I'm with Team Rescue."

Vivian lied as she shouted past the doorway in her best attempt at the vapid, cutesy voice her exasperated squad leader had attempted to coach her to use. From her lips, it sounded like a poorly veiled threat.

"My Team and I are patrolling the area around your apartment building, and we'd like to know if you've seen anything relating to the Yanma outbreak or if you require some assistance. Hello…?"

Vivian waited, listening for anyone moving around within. Moments passed, but it was…. quiet. There were no voices or sounds of movement except the slight rattle of an old ventilation system. Not that Vivian expected otherwise; she'd already checked the rest of the floor, and the other tenants had reported nothing relating to the lost Yanma samples. This whole bust of a trip had been a total waste of-

'Crunch.'

'What was that?'

Vivain's ears perked up as her paranoid mind attempted to pick up the noise over the suddenly excited beating of her heart. Something was moving in there. The odd dry 'crunch' like a breaking gram cracker betrayed its slow, near-inaudible movements. The Rocket grunt's lips tightened into a covetous smirk. She needed little imagination to envision six spindly legs and a shiny red carapace on the culprit.

'Bingo. I think I've just found my gold foil ticket to fast-track my way into the prestigious life of an elite. I just got to bag the Yanma, and goodbye, cell eight and all your insipid squabbling. Good thing I remembered to bring an empty Poké-ball for this special occasion.'

Vivian fists tightened with determination as she took a few steps back from the door. Her petite body was pretty light, but she was confident it would be enough for a chain lock. Lowering her shoulder, she braced herself before charging the apartment entryway.

'Bam!'

Vivian's shoulder cracked painfully against the wooden door, the links of the chain lock snapping with a metallic 'spang!' The door exploded inward, and Vivian flew inside, nearly tripping on a tacky mat that read 'Fight On!' She only just managed to keep herself from falling flat on her face as she struggled to halt her momentum.

Righting herself, Vivian rubbed her tender shoulder as blessedly cool air filled her lungs, a welcome relief from the torrid heat. However, the smell inside the apartment was overpowering, a cloying mix of sweet spices and rancid oils that clung to her mouth and nose. Suppressing the reflex to gag, she walked into the main living space. The rest of the room was illuminated by the late afternoon sun through sliding glass windows at the far end. As Vivian's eyes took in the details of the room, she grimaced in contemptuous disgust.

"Ugh! What a total Tepigsty. No wonder it smells so bad."

Vivian bet that not even an obese Garbodor could have worsened the mixed living space. An LCD television had been left toppled on its stand, the wires pulled from the wall. The nearby coffee table teetered on a splintered leg, with a soaked magazine left to slide onto the floor like a rotting Feebas. Used underwear, scraps of torn spandex and empty food bags were likewise carelessly left strewn about. The unrecognizable remains of a potted plant had been stripped down to a gnawed stem, and the pot was left on its side, so its soil spilled out. Someone had made a half-hearted attempt to clean up by stuffing trash into a single garbage bag before apparently giving up and leaving it untied.

Near the sliding glass window, a small exercise area was at the far end of the room. The floor was splintered where a set of Pokémon class weight's on a barbell had crashed into the floor. Smaller human-class discs had been discarded around the lifting bench like loose change. A popped reflex bag had been shoved to the side, the orange leather hanging limply from the pole. Apparently, that wasn't enough to satiate the user's rage as fist-sized holes had also been punched into the drywall.

And all this carnage was just the beginning.

Puddles and sheets of thick, viscous, bluish ooze were everywhere. The floor, the walls, the furniture, not even the ceiling had escaped the spray of goo. Clumps of round gelatinous spheres were mixed in with the slime reminiscent of Politoed eggs. Most of them looked withered, their skins drying out. The ripped remains of a body pillow had been wholly stuffed with orbs on the living room sofa. Its lumpy outline had ruptured with pulped eggs spilling out, resembling thick natto. There was little doubt that this was the source of the oily stench assaulting Vivian's nose.

"What the fuck happened here?"

Vivian whispered in puzzlement as a thin sliver of unease worked its way into her venomous composure.

'I've never seen a Yanma do this… At least the ones back home in Johto don't. Why didn't the briefing document Dr. K issued warn about his missing samples doing something so gross? '

However, despite Vivian's doubt, somebody from the apartment had attempted to call the Team Rescue hotline before abruptly hanging up. Whatever was going on here had to be related somehow. But Vivian was confused. Where was the apartment's tenant? If they had been chased out by the rabid bug pokémon, why was there evidence that someone was trying to clean up this mess?

For a moment, Vivian nervously considered calling her squad leader on the X-transceiver to report the situation. But she quickly brushed the notion aside. The last thing she wanted was to have the rest of the idiots from cell eight share the reward for finding the damn bug. The air suddenly shifted behind Vivian, tousling the hair peeking out from her cap. But she chalked it to a breeze from the open door behind her.

‘I've got this. If the blasted bug is more than I can handle, I can always retreat out the door. Come on; this is my chance! No chickening out now.'

Steading her nerves, Vivian edged further into the room.

'Plap'

Only to step onto a rancid egg, popping it into a puddle of goo.

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The lurking Creature held her breath as her conjoined hearts beat like hunting drums, amazed that the prey hadn't heard the loud thudding. Stalking the prey felt far stranger than she had imagined. When the small female with neon green hair and a goth black uniform barged into the apartment, the monster nearly wailed as a baffling emotion stabbed her chest. Now, the long wormlike things rooted in her brain were twisting painfully, and her stomach felt full of buzzing Combee. She was nervous, giddy and unbearably aroused all at once.

Still, the Chimera's mind struggled against the tide of feelings to retain her name- Bea, the gym leader of Stow-On-Side. But whenever her focus drifted, a new, foreign memory from that other life, that other self, would bubble up from her subconscious and burst. The alien emotions were boiling inside her skull, tainting her thoughts. It took all her restraint not to act on the joyful energy vibrating her core.

'Just a little more patience. Let the prey just take a few more steps…'

Bea's jaw muscles ached as she clamped them shut, not because she was worried that some small part of her might still try to warn the prey but because of the whimper-evoking pain. Just like before, when she had tried to call for help, the extreme emotions she was feeling had triggered something inside. She could feel her body changing again, her internal organs shifting, muscles reweaving, skin and membrane sloffing off and chittin cracking. Her sharp hands were wet with purple ichor and fragments of drywall. But it didn't matter as long as the prey, as long as the girl was here.

'Green hair! She has Green hair! I like that, right? I must. It's cute on a girl like her. Want her. Wait, I can't be this attracted to somebody when I haven't seen their face yet, right? Need her. It doesn't matter. I bet her face is as pretty as the back of her head. She smells so good, like a sweet lum berry. Need mate.'

Even with shallow breaths, the twin growths of chitin protruding from Bea's skull picked up the full aroma of the prey. In a way that Bea couldn't describe, the smell told her everything about the greenhead's physical well-being. Instinctively, she knew the girl had recently been eating dried oran berries and oats, was healthy despite her limited physical activity and was very, very fertile. Each subtle note of scent ticked the box of an unseen checklist, and Bea's limbs lurched before being restrained by her near-over-taxed willpower.

"Wait just a bit further. Wait till the right moment…."

Bea knew she had to be patient; call it a fighter's instinct. If she struck now, the prey would have time to turn and flee out the open door. Bea couldn't have that; her mind and body were filled with excruciatingly unsatisfied needs, not to mention the heavy load sitting in her guts and backside. However, her mutating vessel wasn't built to lurk like an Ariados in its web. Instead, her energetic genes wanted to zip down and snatch the prey up in mid-flight. But there wasn't enough room to fly in the apartment's cramped confines.

'Almost. Just hold a few more seconds."

However, her arms and legs quivered with unbearable excitement even as Bea pleaded with herself. Her tail swished through the air, less than a meter from the girl's head. Her errant wings tried to flap but were thankfully trapped between her back and the ceiling, unable to make a noise. But the worst distraction was the growing lump in Bea's throat.

'What is going on with me? It's not just the eggs; there's something else. Why am I suddenly so scared? Will she even like me? Female in my territory! Why do I even care what some burglar thinks? After what I plan to do to her, I doubt- Hunt, Take, Mate. Wait! Almost. Almost…’

A silent whisper of air escaped Beas lips, hot enough to steam. Her brain might have been troubled by soft, fluffy confusion, but her body still keenly and eagerly knew what would happen next. The base of her tail throbbed, hungry, already anticipating the flow of the eggs to be deposited. Between Bea's spread-out legs, her slit was already soaking wet, and after a nervous glance down at the beloved prey's adorable backside, she was about to gush...

'She's MINE… I will make her love me.''Drip.'