“In a city where crime and chaos is the status quo, where innocent Pokémon are terrorized by villainous gangs and evil Pokémon, heroes are needed to maintain the balance. While the past months have been quiet - relatively speaking - one mustn't rest on their laurels. You must never let your guard down, you must always be at the ready to assist those in need. That is my philosophy! It is me, The Tide Turner!” Gill says, admiring his reflection and bravery in the mirror. The Dewott smiles confidently, adjusting his cape and outfit and striking a pose. “Maybe the pose needs some work,” he thinks to himself. It does. The Dewott exits his lair, the final few rays of sunlight creeping through the canopy. Gill looks around to see if anyone spotted him exiting his secret lair - it doesn't seem like it - and bravely marches to town. There's always someone in need of assistance - major or minor - but what better way to make a name for yourself? As the Dewott enters town, scouting around for anyone in need of help, he is soon met with distant wails, sounds of distress, quickly fading. The speed at which the sounds came and went makes doubt settle into his mind for a second - maybe he's running into something out of his league… But it turned so fast… surely it's just two Pokémon playing a prank… right? Can't hurt to check it out either way. Besides, if The Tide Turner wants to make a name for himself, he can't chicken out of anything - no matter how outmatched. As the Dewott sprints through the narrow streets and alleyways, trying to locate the origin of the cries of distress, the streets remain silent. Surely that's good news? However, as he runs around a corner and finds himself in a small open square - surrounded by tall apartments and buildings on almost all sides - he sees a Malamar ominously hovering above three unconscious Pokémon. It is, in fact, not good news. Gill's mind races, running through calculations. Malamar is Dark/Psychic, he's Water, that's neutral in both directions. That's doable, surely. Especially in a one-on-one situation where he has the advantage, seeing how he's gone undetected by the Malamar thus far. The three Pokémon on the floor - a Riolu, a Trumbeak and a Toxicroak - are all immobilised. Paralysed, perhaps. Although asleep seems more logical given what they were up against. Gill's blood boils when he realises that all three were at a type disadvantage. Typical, of course the Malamar would not pick on Pokémon of his own size. It's a good thing that he's here to help these poor, unconscious Pokémon - still undetected. A flash of light bounces through the alleyway and Gill's fur stands on end for a second as the light enters his eyes, but he regathers himself. There's no time to waste. In his head, he's already made a plan of action. Open up with a close range Razor shell, get out of dodge for the Malamar's retaliation while he's dazed by the surprise attack, then an Aqua Jet to seal the deal - a priority move, in case the Malamar outspeeds him. A brilliant plan, if Gill says so himself. Quick on his footpaws, Gill prepares his scallops for the opening attack and dashes towards the looming Malamar, jumping once he's in range to strike and… hesitates for a second… “attacking from behind is a coward's move,” he thinks. At the last moment, the attack misses as a result of his hesitation. Why…? Why did he hesitate? That's not cowardice, attacking three Pokémon vulnerable to your own type coverage is. Either way, the jig is up, the Malamar has surely detected him now. He turns around eerily, now facing Gill with an evil smirk. “My, my. What do we have here? Have you come to interrupt my fun?” the Malamar says as his eyes faintly glow for a second, chuckling. “L-leave these innocent Pokémon alone!” Gill says, a tremble in his voice. He feels a near unreasonable rage. Obviously he has every right to be angry at the Malamar's deeds, but he has to attack. He must strike the evildoer down. “And what if I don't, little Hero? Then what will you do?” A low growl escapes Gill's throat. “This!” he says, dashing at the Malamar, surrounded by the power of the tides. The Aqua Jet hits him, though - far too late - Gill realises that that's exactly what the Malamar wanted. The second contact is made, the Malamar strikes back - his tentacle-like fins wrapping around the Dewott's legs and arms, efficiently and totally constricting him. “Silly little hero. Such a weak move, so very predictable…” the Malamar says, his grin now spread widely across his face. The sheer power of the evil Pokémon forces the Dewott down to his knees. He can't reach for his scallops, constricted like this, and panic begins to creep into the back of his mind. “Maybe I will leave these three weaklings alone. You seem much more fun to toy with, little hero,” the Malamar says. Despite his panic, Gill still puts on a brave face and tries to resist the Malamar, blasting him with a pulse of water straight to the face. The Malamar sputters, momentarily caught off guard by the water pulse, but his grip doesn't relent. “Okay, that's enough of that,” the Malamar says before pulling himself closer to the Dewott until he's right up to his face. The Dewott bares his fangs in anger, and… there's a sudden pulse of light - similar to the one that he saw when he crept up behind the Malamar. Only this time, it's much stronger… much closer. Much more compelling… And… And… “maybe I shouldn't resist.” The thought is in a foreign voice. Definitely not the same tone as Gill's inner monologue. Still, it was undeniably his own thought… right? Maybe he shouldn't resist. The lights continue to flash from deep within the Malamar's body, directly entering the Dewott's eyes, his poor little mind utterly dominated by the barrage of mesmerising colours. “maybe I should give in and stare.” Yeah… maybe he should let go. Maybe, if he just pretends to stop fighting, he'll be able to… he'll be able to try and… try and… The colours continue to blast and spin and swirl, and they start to reflect in Dewott's own eyes, long after the actual flashes have subsided. The Malamar laughs ominously. “Oh, you're much more fun to play with indeed… tell me, little hero. What's your name?” With half-lidded eyes, overcome with a sudden and deeply compelling drowsiness, he struggles to respond. His words are slow, like he has to put all of his efforts into finding the power to speak. “T-the… Tide T-Turner…” he eventually manages to say, a wave of warm tingly pleasure pulsing down his spine once the words have rolled over his tongue. The Malamar's grip on his body has loosened, yet Gill remains on his knees, his body gently swaying side to side as he struggles to remain upright. “No, silly… I asked for your name” the Malamar coos. His tentacles are drifting over Dewott's body, searching, probing, exploring. “G-gill, sir.” Malamar quietly snickers. “Well, Gill… I must admit I quite like your little hero costume. It's very cute. Do you want… constructive feedback, though?” The Dewott nods. It happened automatically, he didn't even have to think about it - as if his body already knew what he had to do before registering the question. If that's the case, why bother thinking at all? Thinking suddenly costs so much energy… he'd be much better off preserving what little energy he has left. “Good, good. I guess you are. Well then… Personally, I like the outfit, but I think you'd be much cuter without,” the Malamar whispers, his feeler already tugging at the knot of his cape, loosening it and dropping it on the floor beside him. That's a pretty solid suggestion. After all, clothing is only extra weight. Gill prides himself in his speed, so anything that slows him down counteracts that. His paws drift towards his clothes, guided by the Malamar's feelers. Within seconds, the shirt is removed, pulled up over his shoulders. The fur of his chest is gently ruffled by the wind blowing through the open square. It's a nice feeling, a bit of cool air to ease the warmth that he'd suddenly felt around his torso. That warmth still resides with his lower region though, and both Malamar and Gill are all too eager to take care of it. Paw and tentacle meet at the nylon edge of his pants, both putting in an equal amount of effort to get rid of the fabric that's slowing him down. The pants - alongside any other clothing that might have resided beneath - are pulled down to the floor, meeting his knees still resting upon the pavement, completely freeing - and exposing - him. Once Gill's genitals are freed, he breathes a sigh of relief. The sudden uncomfortable warmth fades, and is replaced by a much nicer, tingly warmth in his nethers. “There we go. Like I said, you're much cuter this way…” the Malamar says, taking a second to admire the newly undressed Dewott kneeling in front of him. Another flash of the gorgeous colours wash over Gill's sleepy eyes, and immediately a rush of horny thoughts seep into his brain, combined with a rush of warmth and blood flowing into his cock, nearly stiffening in an instant. Gill just sits there. Cock throbbing, his brain flashing lewd images and forcing waves of pleasure down his spine, still kneeling and anticipating something - expecting something to happen. Malamar sees his expectant gaze and laughs. “Hah, what, did you think I was gonna do all the hard work? No, no, no little hero. You're gonna have to do that all yourself,” he says with an evil smile, his tentacle softly tracing the Dewott's shaft before pulling back. Gill lets out a frustrated sigh, but he won't let himself be told twice. Having been given permission, he eagerly wraps his paw around his stiff cock. The Dewott immediately begins to stroke, coaxing loud moans out of his throat. “Ssssh, silly hero. Wouldn't want to draw any attention to yourself while you're like this?” the Malamar asks, enjoying the Dewott's pleasured moans. “Then again… maybe you do…” The Dewott isn't even listening to the Malamar's seductive voice anymore. Their words are still creeping into his brain, settling and stirring, but Gill is too preoccupied with jerking himself silly. His paws continue to glide up and down as the Malamar just looks on, joining the Dewott in pleasuring himself - proud of his own hard work in turning yet another hero into a naked, mushy-brained toy. “Good boy. Just mindlessly stroke yourself to completion,” the Malamar commands. It's not like Gill had other plans, but the affirmation does help, as the Dewott's efforts speed up and his moans grow louder. Together, the two Pokémon jerk off in the open square, slowly but surely approaching that delightful edge that beckons them to empty their balls - and, in Gill's case, his mind. The Malamar is the first to cum, suppressing a pleasured groan as he releases onto the pavement. Gill is still utterly lost, mindlessly stroking his stiff, throbbing, leaking shaft. As he continues to masturbate, the Malamar grins and silently whispers “see you around, Tide Turner,” slowly and silently disappearing into the dark alleyways, carrying the three prey he'd caught at first. Gill, however, doesn't realise nor notice nor care. Gill has to stroke his cock, Gill is a slave to the pleasure… Gill needs… Release. His loudest moan thus far is accompanied by a powerful orgasm, causing his entire body to shudder in pleasure and go limp, his head dropping onto his uniform laying on the pavement. The mind-shattering climax is soon replaced by a deep afterglow and an all-encompassing dizziness, one that can only be soothed by gently drifting off into slumber. And so, he does. Gill's heavy eyes close, the swirly colours in his irises fade away, and his consciousness slips into the slumbery void. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “In a city where crime and chaos is the status quo, where innocent Pokémon are terrorized by villainous gangs and evil Pokémon, heroes are needed to maintain the balance. While the past months have been quiet - relatively speaking - one mustn't rest on their laurels. You must never let your guard down, you must always be at the ready to assist those in need. That is my philosophy! It is me, The Tide Turner!” Gill says, admiring his reflection in the mirror. The Dewott smiles confidently, adjusting his cape and… is something missing…? No, no, he's wearing his cape. That'll suffice, right? The Dewott strikes a pose and laughs when he sees how silly it looks. “Maybe the pose needs some work,” he thinks to himself. It does.