PURPLE HAZE
By Ether-Drift & Foxy Boy
************************************

    With a loud crack, the door handle held by a large Blastoise snapped off. He firmly pushed the panel open, just wide enough for his friends to sneak through. A sly Wartortle, devious Croagunk, and menacing Gengar crept through in series. All three wore a cocky smile, and carried with them a Chimchar and Charmeleon, the helpless pair bound, gagged, and blindfolded.

    “These digs should do the trick!” Blastoise dictated, as he let the door close behind them. “Room's closed for maintenance. Nobody'll be here for a week!”
    “Perfect, boss!” the Wartortle rang out as his goons dropped the Fire-pair, their mass striking the ground with a deep thud.
    Once their captors tore away the raggedy blindfolds, they registered their surroundings as a locker room in dire disrepair. The floor was a canvas of stains and chips, and most of the lockers were busted and caked with heavy rust. Above them, overhead lights flickered randomly, and well-onto half of them were missing bulbs.
    The last thing Chimchar had seen before their sudden apprehension, was the back end of the Charmeleon laying next to him. Since his last gym battle, he'd already been brought forcibly into sexual encounters with a trio of strangers. All of which, took place in the gym’s public bathroom... For more reasons than mere convenience.
    Charmeleon’s arms were still damp with the collection of urine they'd soaked up from leaning into the toilet; something done at Blastoise's laughing command. Both him and his Chimchar friend smelt strongly of the acrid piss... It would seem their captors loved to view them covered in it.
    They were - naturally - rather frightened, of what next they'd be put through, but also held a strange and growing urge to continue. Despite all the humiliation and forcefulness, they continued to relish most of what they were subject to. Even as they lay bound on the dingy floor, their members remained hard as stone.
     The Charmeleon shivered against the cold concrete, unable to lift himself and without fur to insulate its harshness. His struggle only pulled more laughter from the group of sex thugs, as they shuffled around the back of the room. The panicked pair waited in silence, until hearing a sharp, familiar sound, like the cracking of an egg.
    The Wartortle had removed a small piece from the front of his shell, exposing his half-limp member. With a gentle coax of one paw, it grew quickly to a smooth, firm length. His two cronies joined in their prep work, while the potentate Blastoise stood back and observed in his usual, gruff stature.
    The Croagunk’s piece, certainly affected by the delicious scene, blossomed into a great maroon bulb. It was comparably short to the others’ length, but redeemed with immense thickness. Gengar’s, in turn, was longer than his contemporaries, but also rather thin. Though what he lacked in... Substance, would be wholly overshadowed by a boisterous, charismatic demeanor, typical of his ghastly species... Along with his less-typical trait of wearing clothes, in this case a studded leather jacket whose colour was close to his purple, plasmic hue.
    He would be the one, to shatter the distracted silence. "I'd say these fruits are ripe for the picking." He took both hands to adjust the swooping jacket, while his engorged tool danced up and down with bodily motion. "I call dibs, and let's see you slowpokes do anything about it."
    Wartortle shot him the gaze of someone with all the time in the world. "By all means; not like they're goin' anywhere." Turning to their hot-and-bothered love-slaves, his head arched to drive home a following point. "You'll do wise to follow his lead, queers. You think me or Blastoise have a mean streak, your new 'buddy' here might as well be world-famous."
    "Yeah... Just ask a certain two Machokes in Viridian Forest. If you can still walk, of course." Approaching the belly-down Charmeleon, he stooped onto a pair of purple knees, just behind the orange lizard's immaculate caboose. As the latter's eyes fixed on him with a blend of light fear and greater anticipation, he took member in hand and traced its near-invisible slithole on the rim of a delectable hole. "You can relish this, or you can kick and scream... It's no difference to me."
     The Charmeleon mustered a failed attempt to squirm away, while he muttered something inaudible behind his gag. “Not so fast!” came a curt warning from the Gengar, as he grabbed the rope on his concubine's back. With a hard tug, he pulled until the soft rump backed firmly against his cock, much firmer than before. The helpless lizard barely had the chance to give a tensed swallow, before the shadowy beast forced his way in.
    Sharp pain of the invading prick dominated the Charmeleon's consciousness. “Have a dose of what real tailfire feels like, tight little flamer!” the Gengar cackled, his tone smoothed by the first twinges of pleasure. Tears welled in the lizard’s eyes, as he whimpered and howled through clenched teeth. The Gengar continued his savage thrusts, into the already-tender tailhole. He made certain not to let up for any reason, as the break would allow the lizard’s ass time for relief... Not to mention giving errant proof, he could have any mercy within him. “Better suck it up, faggot, this ain’t gettin’ any easier!”
    Though hardly enjoying the Gengar's 'lance' and its violent intrusion, a gleeful chorus of baritone laughter from their audience certainly didn't help. With eyes open to their fullest from the nether-region-assault, his gaze leapt between Blastoise and Croagunk, then to Wartortle, hands on his hips and - unlike the other two - seeming more prideful than purely amused. Though the larger water-tortoise stood as kingpin, it was clear who the true "den leader" was.
    Finally, as his focus swung backwards to that of his... Perpetrator, an impish grin betrayed the impending development. "I see the problem here... You're too fuckin' loose." His rhythmic thrusts, to the fire Poké's great relief, slowed to a prompt cease. "Been taking a few too many up your slutty firestar, have you? Well, we can make a way past that." 
    Initially, the vulnerable Charmeleon caught Gengar's accent of the word "we", but had no clue of its meaning... Until he also caught Croagunk in his peripheral, sauntering up with a look that spoke a thousand words. "Always wanted to try this", the collected poison-fighter intoned, "And it couldn't be on a better uke."
    Gengar's eyes cut to follow the taller form of Croagunk, strolling to a halt right next to, and up against, his own. "Let's not be so generous, Captain Choad... He's little more than a filthy, pervert slave, and he'll be treated as such." With a shoulder-jab of dominant 'brotherhood', their engorged cocks met with slight rubbing, mere inches before the Char's gaping hole. All the while, their 'slave' watched with muted terror, as the scent of leather and ghostly plasm mixed with newt skin oils... He knew exactly what was coming, but also knew he was powerless to stop it. His nose twitched at the palpable stench, as it cut through the room's dank air. With subtle detest, he tried in vain to relax as the smell of his invaders made its way to him.
    The Gengar’s earlier ‘blessing’ had loosened him, just enough to let the tips of their members push in. ‘So far so good’ he initially thought, just before the Croagunk's thick bulb began to run out of room. The pair was no more than an inch or two inside, before a sharp twist of pain caused the lizard’s caboose to seize up. They were plugged in good and tight, and all the sweat and slime wasn’t lubricant-enough to push on any further.

    The Gengar spat at their little slave, barking out curses, “When I said I like it tight, I didn’t mean a fucking chinese finger puzzle!” The Charmeleon didn’t bother trying to sputter out a comeback... Anything he did, right or wrong, would just be used in a way to humiliate himself.

    Croagunk attempted a few failed thrusts, causing painful friction to his companion’s endowment. A ghostly hand went upside his head, “Cut it out, retard, that's not gonna fix it!”
“Oww, damn... Well then what will?!” whined the incredulous newt.
    “Basic mechanics... Y'can't drive a car without oil, can you?” the Gengar shot back, his tone slightly calmer now that an ill-advised motion had stopped.

    The two pondered for a moment, while Croagunk's eyes danced around the room. “Too bad we weren’t there when he was covered in piss!”
The Gengar snapped his fingers, as a wide toothy grin slickly traversed his jaw. “You may just've redeemed your idiot self!”
   “What…you mean-?” the Croagunk cryptically returned, wise to the Gengar’s obvious inkling.
“You were out there, battling all day... I know you have some ‘fuel' in your tank."
    The Croagunk was silent for a moment, glancing down at his member as he tugged on it. Moments later, with eyes returning to his translucent contemporary, he was sporting the same corrupt smile. “Y'know, I think I do!”

    The Charmeleon stayed forcibly complacent, waiting for their exchange to end. He wasn’t sure what they were going to do, but anything to ease the pressure in his rear would be highly appreciated. “Well I’m ready, how 'bout you?”, the Croagunk’s voice rattled from behind him.
    “Absolutely... Fire at will,” Gengar followed.

    The bound Char felt their two lengths bob slightly between each other, as the pervert creeps let out a pair of relieved sighs. Seconds later, he felt a warm tickle rush into his lower regions, causing him to let out a gentle pant. It felt strangely nice at first, running through his insides, until his stomach turned mildly sour. It would seem their strategy was a success, as his backend was irritated just enough to widen some extra space.

    Quick as the two restarted their descent, so did a tiny splash of liquid escape. It fell over all three pairs of legs, leaving a shocked countenance on the Charmeleon’s face. His first instinct, was thinking he'd felt his own blood. He began to panic, but the leather-clad spector - keen of his fears through a certain ghost-endemic claire-voyance - patted him sarcastically on the head. “Chill, Wiggleworm, it's only lemonade!”

    His eyes immediately gave a puzzled stare forward, still attempting to enjoy their thrusts, as he listened to Croagunk's laughing voice. “Wow, that's a nice bit o' capacity!”
“You did save some though, correct?” Gengar accusingly queried.
    “Oh, no worries, I’ll be good to go again when we’re done.”
Sounds of fluid stirred up by the double-penetration, and a slight rubbing of the two very-different cocks betwixt each other, accompanied Char's pained and whining moans. At one point, Croagunk was so deeply in the moment, he leaned over and attempted a short, passionate French-kiss to his ghost partner-in-crime... This lasted just long enough for lips to make contact, before the firmness of a closed fist raked across his temple.
    "We'll have none of that romance-bullshit, Casanova. Neither the time nor the place, even if I did believe in that garbage."

    From his nearby vantage point - still bound like his violated contemporary - Chimchar watched with bated breath, successfully faking horror. He wouldn't fool himself into thinking the scene wasn't favourable; unorthodox, sure, and a fair bit sadistic, but watching a small, helpless boytoy being filled with studly cock, and hot piss... In his mind, the concept and execution were far too great for their forcible means to spoil. Though his hands were well-secured to his chest, his prehensile tail remained free... And though unaware of himself, it curled around to rake the tip of his smaller, pulsating monkey meat.

    Meanwhile, the two water-based manpimps among them - whom before had been enjoying the show from a distance of yards - noticed in unison their monkey's playfulness. Sharing a single, ambiguous glance at each other, their feet quickly started off to meet the attention-starved fire chimp.
    Still tickling the sheathed glans of his average endowment, Chimchar's eyes kept on his violated lizard friend, until the lumbering footsteps of a large turtle overrode his focus, and two seraphic pupils glimpsed the face of one who'd all-but-split his hindquarters open. Naturally, those same pupils gave a few intimidated twitches.

    "Don't get too cozy, monkey twink... Twinkey." Wartortle had a brief chuckle at his friend's improvisation of nickname. "I'm only leavin' you be 'cause you're old hat. But the party's missing an honoured guest..."
    While Chimchar's ears perked at the news, the larger turtle gave his shorter pal a nod, and Wartortle's phone was immediately out, and up to his ear. "... Yo, get your lazy arse down here... No, fuck that, you know what I'll do to you... Two minutes, freak."
    Chimchar's face now proved its first dose of actual fear for a good while... Since, as Wartortle put away the phone, his own countenance showed more smug vindication than any moment before.

    "Fuuuuuuuck..." Deep, extended moans drew forth from Croagunk, unaccustomed to such a perfect uke and a perfect partner. 
Gengar's motions beside the noxious newt's were quickly ushering in a climax, and the ghostly fop wore a suitable look of disdain for the inevitable. "Goddamnit, hold your fire. If you go, I'll do the same, and I'm not r-ready jussst yee-e-"

    There was no stopping it... With sweat beading from head to toe, their climax hit simultane, and Char gave a high-pitched yelp as his tender ass was flooded with hot, creamy manyogurt. Though put off by the unintended shortening of the affair, Gengar's O-grin was a close match for Croagunk's, and their ending thrusts were staggered perfectly to slide against one another. As the final shots of seed trickled between the meats and their reddish holster, a single rope fell from Char's rear to the floor tiles... And as two climaxes were abating, the short-of-breath Gengar dismounted, sauntered up to Char's head, grabbed it firmly in one hand and slid the length of his spent, throbbing member beneath two lizard nostrils.

    Some yards behind them, Chimchar's jaw had slowly dropped, his eyebrows raised in ecstacy as he edged his sensitive prick. Meanwhile - practically gasping with fiery arousal - Char was allowed a moment to relish the gesture... Before promptly being shocked out of his heavenly stupor, when Gengar pulled his head to swing his body around and down to the grimy tiles. "See that tiny spot of cum you failed to catch, lizard bitch?" The ghost 'mon exerted some pressure on the orange head, just enough to assert his unshakeable control. "You'll clean every speck, if you value your tail. I wanna see that spot shine like the goddamn sun, kapish?"

    Enjoying this far more than before - and still attempting to keep this from his smugly dominant captors - he wasted no time in lapping it up, like a wanderer in a desert oasis. Croagunk, hardly as 'experienced' as the in-his-element ghost, stood back and fondled his dripping manhood.

    "Yeah, taste that floor where my feet've been," Gengar spat with heaping enjoyment. "You're such a little-"
His shame-schpiel was halted, when the door swung open with terrible force. Its mass impacted the wall, began to swing back, and was straightaway caught by a large and powerful hand. Behind it, a hulking figure swayed in, and the quartet of nasty abductors greeted him with looks of adulent, manly joy.

    "Hell yeah, finally here to Agg-ravate the situation." Wartortle's joke fell on ears distracted by thundering footsteps, that all but buckled the crumbling tile. Some five feet above, a deviant sneer stole all attention from the shine of steel that encircled it, which in turn was still a bright contrast with darker grey of the body's mass. Two oversized hands met their owner's hips, and the footsteps gave way to a deep-and-vaguely-metallic voice. "You still put on that ridiculous tough-guy act... Grow up, turtle boy, save the swagger for a REAL man." The newcomer's intense gaze, fell on their bound fire-monkey, seeing straightaway his heaping surprise. "Not something you expected, kid? Good, at least 'Tortle did something right."

    The shorter shell-bearer would've shot a comeback, if his hand weren't busy with a slow and moistened jerk. Five pairs of eyes- Gengar's, Blastoise's, Croagunk's, his own and Chimchar's - followed the movement as Aggron took both palms to the solid plate covering his loins. With a flick of the wrists, it snapped clean away, and was tossed to the floor with a naturally-hollow sound; while the newly-exposed member, eight inches of soft silver man-meat, swung to and fro under its own weight. And all six of its nearby contemporaries, gave a good cock-pulse at the mere sight.

    A glint bounced from Aggron's temple, flashing a few times due to its flickering light source. Its slower half-strobe effect, accentuated the quick rise and inflation of silver cock. "Time for some good ol' fashioned ape rape."

    Chimchar wriggled to his very limit of ability... He was well-aware of the difference between Blastoise, and a male even stronger and more... Sizeable. Every moment he stressed at the tight rope encircling him, he could only view the steady approach of what he knew to be his next - pitiless - encounter. And as the steel tank's manhood grew to double-digit inches, it would seem his leer was doing the same. ["Well kid, I'm almost sorry you have nothin' to bite down on." ]Approaching the helpless monkey - and his tailhole - he promptly allowed his legs to give way, hitting the floor with diamond-strength knees so hard it would register on a Richter scale. This was done to make his imminent man-bitch jump out of his skin, and it was a success... Five times over, with how the other deviants followed suit.

    Blastoise - despite his patriarch personality - did little to hide the heaping admiration, as every motion of Aggron's was fluid, masculine and one step closer to wrecking the flare chimp's passage. Raising his left hand above the newly-sweating boytoy, he paused to idly run a claw through the bright orange fur on its back. "Don't mind me, faggot, just enjoying this before it's matted and caked with my gift." Pushing forward a bit, his engorged member was throbbing near-painfully, and with each pulse it tickled all corners of Chimchar's sphincter. Aggron had two sights he was relishing; his huge dick only moments away from 'breaking in' a sex-slave, and how that same pulse of its staggering length made the small chimp's toes curl in ecstacy.

    ["Boy, you're gonna wish like hell you had somethin' to bite down on."]

    Through Chimchar's eyes, it started slowly. A tightness in his lower regions, which grew steadily from ticklish, to enjoyable, to downright painful. And by the time it reached the latter stage, Aggron was barely halfway in.

    The hulking steel tank could easily catch the frantic sway of Chimchar's legs, and knew what it entailed. "Already compainin'? God-damn, they don't make you li'l cocksluts like they used to." Despite his words, it pleased him to watch the ape's reactive nature, as he continued to push in with no regard for his bitch.

    Before long, he'd 'broken in' up to the root, and by then Chimchar's eyes flashed dire signals of difficulty. There was slight relief as the massive cock pulled out a bit, but he knew it for what it was; the mere beginning. 

    As the process began its cycle of repeats, his studly dominator was getting more and more enjoyment from the reception. "Fuck yeah, so big your ribs ache, eh? Too-effin'-bad." His hands slid up and down the sides of Chimchar's torso... Not to caress his subject, but to search out a suitable place to grip its mass. Settling on the space just above the tiny love handles, his clawed hands clamped down, providing the means to start his anal decimation.

     Holding fast to his devilish smirk, the rock-hard rock-type cast eyes down at his handiwork. While Chimchar squealed in escalating pain, he indulged a set of deep-voiced cackles, watching his giant cock pump in and out of its unwilling, sentient sleeve. The monkey's flame-prone fur pulsed up and died down repeatedly, unable to keep a steady temperature from the trauma. And the odd, captivating show this created, only pleased its cause even further, and bade him up the ante with every few thrusts.

    By now, the cackles heightened in both volume and pitch, while steel-strength hips rocked in obvious arcs. The long silver member, and its polished arrow-like head, slid through Chimchar's caboose like butter.... And the great difference in size, meant every repetition nudged the monkey's diaphragm, bringing him to spew lilting, wavering moans.

    Predictably, Aggron appreciated the new sound, and his pace climbed in accordance. He cared little for his 'audience'; Gengar, Blastoise, Wartortle and Croagunk, watching with all-but tongues hanging out. While Aggron's eyes kept to the max ability of sadistic narrowing, Blastoise stood next to Wartortle, both beating their meat with full, palm-heavy strokes. Gengar did the same, a bit slower, more amused than aroused... Croagunk simply marvelled at Aggron's talent, and size, hardly aware of his growing jealousy. Meanwhile, Charmeleon made sure to keep his irritated sighs quiet, for fear that interrupting them would bring less-than-pleasurable punishment. He may've liked the show himself, but by the way it looked, he wasn't ready to be the 'co-star'.

    Within the flame-ape's underside, traumatic thrusts were trumping any pleasure he might possibly feel. Were he not on his back, the others would've seen how his torso distended from Aggron's over-endowed manhood... Though in all likelihood, it would only make them hornier. Not the case, with Chimchar... His entire torso was aching, as his tailhole had been for a good while, and he could only hope this captor didn't excel in stamina as well.

    But in the meantime, Gengar's interest had quickly waned, unlike his brethren's... It was bad enough having one larger male in the room, crimping his chance for top-dog, without having to watch a second that even more put him to shame. With a roll of his eyes, he turned to Charmeleon, adjusting his jacket. "No getting comfy, lizard bitch. You're not here to catch the show, you're here to be a part of it."

    The shadowy creep sauntered up, spun around and arched forward, wiggling his purple rump against the Charmeleon’s face. “Smell it, slave!” he demanded, parking it above the Char’s nostrils. Obedience was swift, drawing a curious whiff, taking in the rough plasma-stench of the bulky ghost. Against his better judgement, he enjoyed its strange, unique scent.   “So you're into that, eh, flamer?!” shot the Gengar, with enticing tone. 

    The Char's reply was a pleased grunt, as he helped himself to another deep breath. “That’s... Nice…”

     His dominator's words slithered like an Arbok going in for the kill, “Tell you what, queer, you'll get a break from that gag if you make your mouth useful!” Another wanton groan, following his offer.

    With a devilish grin, the masculine specter reached back for the knot that held Char's gag, receiving a  gasp for the first fight-less breath as it slipped out and off. The lizard's warm drool dribbled down his neck, reflecting the dim fluorescent light from above. “Don't think this is any kind of reprieve... I have another ‘gag’ for you.” He gazed up to catch the big purple backside, awaiting a return to its worship. And still not keen on just why it was tantalizing, Char's instincts kicked in to accomodate.

    Half-reluctantly, his mouth sank between the dark purple cheeks, using them as wispy pillows. His tongue dropped forward sluggishly, motivated solely by the prize of being unrestrained for the moment. It made a first shy swoop across the dark rippled hole, driving home his further humiliation. The bitter taste of sweat and musk met his tongue with each cautious lap, in his attempt to please his tormentor.

    It would seem his venture met with success... If Gengar's high-pitched yelps were any indication. "Slow the fuck down, herp-uke, I'm sensitive back there." Upon this chastening, the small lizard cut his pace in half, and reception promptly improved. Now, the man-ghost's lilting, stuttering moans were proof of his luck in hitting the perfect speed, and they persisted as his tiny tongue traced the musky perimeter.

    At first, he stayed consistent for a minute or so, until he could hear Gengar's ecstacy fading a notch. Then, feeling a shred of domination in himself, he surprised his captor with quick, snapping dives into the purple hole, alternating with full-360 spins over the tender rim. And the yelps it culled - more joyous, this time around - even brought him to smile for a moment.

    "Fuck yeah, you orange slave... OHHH...  Self-taught in seconds, you're a goddamn NNN-natural."

    Pleased by this scintillating scene, the overgrown newt waddled up to the pair... His vigour had begun to reform, watching the fire-ape’s ordeal. As the Charmeleon’s front end was still in use, the newt focused his prospects on the other side. Devoid of warning, he probed his slippery fingers into the lizard.

    The Char let out a shocked gasp of breath against Gengar’s ass, bidding him laugh at the tickle. “I’m guessing ‘Newton’ feels left out?” 
His query was answered with heaps of whine. “For the millionth time, stop calling me that!”
    A set of ghostly cackles; he wasn’t sure which of the two he more-enjoyed tormenting. “Fine, then, How’s the weather back there, anonymous?”
The Croagunk let his fingers drop out, revealing a mix of the contents they'd previously left behind, “A little drippy... One-hundred-percent chance of primed lube-ing!”
    "Stellar. You wanna grab the goods, then? I'm kinda busy."
"No prob." The poison herp grabbed Char by the tail, giving it one good, painful yank. "Get ready, bud, I have a feeling you'll like this."

    From Gengar's mentioning of 'goods', and Croagunk's reassurance, the bound Charmeleon figured they'd finally tend to his throbbing hardon... Until the purple newt scrambled to his feet, and took off in fast-walk for a nearby locker. He only knew this by sound, with Gengar's backside pushed into his face, against his tickling tongue. The rusted door slammed shut, and Croagunk's shadow fell just over his face from behind. Still working in and out of the ghost's tight hole, the uncertainty - and its stressing him - was well-hidden.

    It didn't last, however, as it gave way to a new sensation on his own loosened sphincter. Something smooth and round, pushing up to the cum- and piss-lubed passage. It felt rather tiny, something Char would not have expected, and for a moment he was actually disappointed... Until he realized just what was knocking on his back door.

    "Yeah, bitchboy, we're takin' your ass to Mardi Gras."

    Gengar had a good chortle at his own brand of levity, while Croagunk's face morphed to fit his deviant pleasure. Newt fingers had pushed the first bead into place, leaving four to dangle, suspended by friction hold. Gengar's brown star was still being serviced, but by now its sensitive nature was a disadvantage, and he winced at the first sign of chafing. "Switch-up time", he grumbled, while spinning around to grab the Char's scalp and force it down on his half-hard junk.

    Bead number two squeezed its way in, a bit larger than the first... And the receiver's eyes shut accordingly. Now charged with a near-flaccid member to reawaken, he began the eager bobbing, running his tongue down the underside. Twenty seconds of this, and the ghostly manhood was back to full-mast... his appreciation, was grabbing the Char's head tighter, and manually heightening his rhythm.

    Bead three entered the warm tailhole, the first so far to find a bit of difficulty. Gengar felt a momentary 'Mmm' on his stiff meat, a sign of their slave's pain that he hoped to be brief. Croagunk's grin was purely Cheshire-catlike, as he watched his comrade enjoying the five-star head, thrusting down the smaller captive's throat... Both were enraptured by the moment, so it was a short order for the taller blue turtle to lumber up unnoticed, patiently waiting for just the right moment.

    While Bead four pushed in, driving his eyes wide-open, he caught Blastoise in his peripheral.... And from the look on the tortoise face, he already knew what was imminent, and his mouth stayed firmly clamped over Gengar. The moment was more delicious to him, than the spearlike member cruising betwixt his lips... Though they were certainly neck-and-neck. Gengar's own immense tongue lay across his pure-white open-mouth grin, proving how little he was aware of beyond his service. And this only elevated Char's barely-hidden pleasure, quickly growing fond of the hard spheres filling his hind cavity.

    He gasped with relief from the break in pressure, as the final bead pushed in. His tender insides were filled to maximum, and he lie in wait for the pair of sex thugs to clear the space, making room for their 'boss'. The violet staff was still diving in and out of orange lips, and he returned a firm suckle to the bulging head, while the purple newt began yanking the hefty balls back out of him.

    But before he could forge a decent pattern with his mouth, the large blue beast literally shoved Gengar aside, then pushed Char's head to the floor, while Croagunk stepped back in self-preservation. He gave an answer, before the question could even be sputtered. “Time's up, my turn to bitch-ify you. And if you're my bitch, you’re gonna smell like it, capiche?!” As usual, there was no response, above completely-faked displeasure.

    With the presence of continual pain tugging at his rear, the Charmeleon’s only view was the pair of large feet in front of him, jiggling as his "master" imbibed a deep grunt. Strong jets of tortoise-whizz sprayed out in return, washing over his back. As it soaked his ruddish skin, small streams trailed over his head, forcing strong shivers through his nerves.

    The Blastoise still held a firm grip on his neck, so he wasn’t even spared the freedom of moving it away from his eyes or mouth. He coughed at the bitter taste, as the many samples soured his palate. Whipping his head as much as possible, to avoid getting more in his eyes, there was still an unpleasant sting growing harsher.

    “How's it taste?” chuckled Blastoise, pleased by the disgusted look on his captive’s face.
Sputtering, The fire-reptile gave a sarcastic protest, to his best ability. “Delicious!”
    The arrogance, was paid back by the tortoise's grim frown. He lifted the lizard’s head, while another squeal sounded at the removal of two more spheres. “Glad you like!” he practically-roared, “Here, have some from the tap!” 

    He'd intended to give the Char another nice 'bath'... But he soon found that, with Aggron's activity still going strong, things were too firm down below to proceed. At first, it drew an irritated grunt, but his mood warmed considerably when gaze floated over to Chimchar's dicking... And he had no issue with waiting, for a cause like this.

   The steel 'mon was definitely a five-star show in himself, pulling passionate, painful moans from his monkey victim, while close-to-drooling at his own work. Taking one hand to the ape's prone stomach, he lifted firmly whilst leaning back, suspending Chimchar by his own weight on the huge potency. It held for a few minute's duration, but his eyes squinted shut, and even through a grimacing mien, Chimchar could easily tell what was on its way.

    "Y... Yes... Ohhhh... Time to... Wrap it up..." Aggron's voice was nothing-but-gasp, and his chosen uke clinched everything he knew how. The enormous prick still jabbed at his upper torso, but he assumed things might improve with the diminishing of Aggron's control.
    He was wrong.
Taking his free hand, the galvanized tank-of-a-male wrapped his fingers around Chimchar's arm, and rotated it forward just a touch. And directly from that, he came back full-force the other way... Bringing the smaller ape's body to spin rapid revolutions, on a fourteen-inch axis. Chimchar shouted in shocked pain, Aggron fired off window-rattling moans, and half their audience was on the verge of painting the floor with fresh mancream.

     But that act, belonged to Aggron... And once Chimchar's form ceased to spin, he took the hand responsible, and seized the ape's chin to pull him violently off. Directly from this, he lowered the tightly-held jaw to his cock, and pulled it down over the throbbing mass. With the flame-primate now gagging on its length, deep roars signalled Aggron's peak, and he pulled out just long enough to ice the ape's backfur with long ropes; then he sunk the primate head back over his erupting meat, and Chimchar's gullet took what was easily quarts-worth of steel-type seed. No less than thirty full seconds, while his stomach was continually filled, until he could feel himself growing sluggish from the sheer weight. If there'd been any fighting it before, there certainly wasn't now, and he did his best to appreciate the thick, copious loads. With the pain in his lower-regions lessening, he could even find a bit of pleasure in Aggron's deep bass-groans, while they slowly lessened as well.

    And as the cock-stiffening sight was over, Blastoise could take reigns of his attention, and bring his own meat to soften. Gazing down at the helpless lizard, imagining what he must be thinking, his smirk was tailor-made for lush anticipation. "Hope you enjoyed that break, boy, 'cause what you don't earn, you'll be paying for." Shifting his weight to a stable, masculine stance, he squeezed his own dick, a personal habit for what was coming.

    Charmeleon shut his eyes as the next round of salty mess poured over his face, in a surging jet. The tortoise held a firm grip on the Char’s jaw, rendering any attempt at closing his mouth pointless. His mouth quickly filled with a maize-tinted pool, and he had no choice but to swallow the pints of salty Turtle-Aid.
	
    When his head dipped with a quick sputter, the shower trailed over his nostrils, in a deep stench that overpowered his faculties.  Both taste and scent were off-putting, but the act itself was turning him on... He now understood what his ape friend got from their earlier encounter.

    As supply began lessening, and the stream petered out, the yellow-soaked Char craned his neck to clean the piss-slit with his tongue, an improvised display of obedience. His tortoise captor only sneered, at the vain attempt to get in his good graces. “So you're finally gonna act all ready and willing... Then you won't mind turning your faggot ass around!”

    The Char stumblingly shuffled as ordered, and assumed the position. A tremble rose up through his legs, quaking to hip-height, as fear of the lengthy beast returned. And seconds later, Blastoise dragged his firm prick across the quivering lizard's underside, and with no advance warning, jammed in its impressive head.

    The pain - though sharp - wavered quickly, as he was somewhat-desenstized by the anal-beading. Thus, the first few inches wedged in without issue, and the fire-lizard even felt a sliver of pleasure, while his nerves embraced the thick member. Its texture of skin was a welcome change, to the hard rubber the goons had pushed into him.
    He could slightly relax, as his body waxed more forgiving, and allowed his captor to force the remaining length with a hurried shove. Charmeleon imbibed moaning sighs, as his insides were straightaway filled. But Blastoise eyed him carefully, not so thrilled at the level of repose he exuded.

    With a jerk of his arm, two minions took a harsh smack to the temples. “The fu-!”, Gengar managed to shout, before his protest was cut off.
“You prepped the little fag too much, he’s actually enjoying this!” The tortoise’s rage spat over Gengar in emphasized frenzy.
    “S-sorry Boss!” Croagunk whimpered, inching back a second time, while the irked reptile's eyes tumbled at their stupidity. “Whatever, just find a way to fix it!” His words ended with a violent shove into his little play-pet.

    The well-primed Char spewed a few rough squeals, as the hulking beast mercilessly pounded into his overused tailhole. Smooth, warm flesh held tightly onto his endowment, as he continued to roughly abuse its priveledge. The Char’s forced activities had ceased to be a burden, and with each passing moment were more of a treat.

    His joyful moans, he twisted to sound passive, knowing damn-well his pleasure would infuriate the group. But the smug grin soon fled, as shadows of the cronie-pair loomed over him, ready for God-knows-what. He peered up at them, through gape-mouthed gasps, with a look more irritated than scared. Based on the near past, he expected little from the pair, besides a few nasty tricks and cheap thrills.

    Croagunk was first to move in, laying his re-hardened bulb over the Char’s face; its odd-shaped mass was still very-much damp, and left a lingering odour of Char’s scent. It was clear what he wanted of the uke herp, but the latter was all too aware of where newt-junk had previously been. Reeling in barely-hidden disgust, his gaze trailed higher as Aggron's silhouette lumbered up for a front-row seat... Standing over his head, the monstrous cock dripping final thimble-fulls of its payload just above his nose.

    Distracted as he was, he had no time to second guess. The very moment he'd opened his mouth, startled by the steel-tank's presence, the newt quickly jammed his thick root over an easy tongue. The first taste it caught from the slimy lump, was the pungeant musk of his own backend. Given normal circumstances, the Char would likely have found this off-putting... This scene, however, he found the act strangely inviting, in the same convention as earlier piss-play.

    Much to Croagunk’s surprise, upon a brief regrouping, the crimson slave began eagerly nursing the greasy newt-root. Beyond credulity, Croagunk turned to his boss in a confused stare. “Umm… Seems to be enjoying this, too!”

    Char's eyes shot open, expecting the worst, but were mollified by a pair of low chuckles. “Damn, we hooked a Grade-A slut on accident!” Gengar boasted, manipulating his pre-coated meat while gaze trailed up and down the piss-soaked form.
    Meanwhile, Blastoise turned his focus to Wartortle, having picked up Aggron's sloppy seconds with a good, violent blowjob. “Y’know boys, in that case, I think it's high-time to up the stakes!”

    Caught off-guard by the call, the smaller turtle looked over at Char's surrounding tableaux, and in the span of moments, pieced together the intent. Chimchar, casting eyes up at the man whose cock was thrusting violently between his teeth, shuddered at the eager sneer before him... And straightaway, thrusting halted, while a hand seized the scruff of his neck. 
    Next he knew, he was being dragged across the room, belly down, headed for Charmeleon and the center of the action. Consumed by a blend of fear and anticipation, his mind was racing, right up until the moment his neck was released, to plop him down against the side of his fellow captive.

    Their bodies rolled slowly in mirrored motion, until they faced each other. Both were panting heavily, from either pain of large endowments that stretched their innards, or wondering just where the latest 'act' was going. They had little time to spare, with eager sex-thugs surrounding them, but used it to observe each other... How their bodies looked, sweaty, near-completely used, the Char's skin soaked in musky yellow. Then their eyes met, and in a fleeting flash they felt kindredness clutch at their heartstrings.

    ... Which was driven away, by the lack of light from above. Gazing upward, they lay still below the cause, all five of the insatiable 'mons looming over them with varied shades of smug. Wartortle exchanged glances with Aggron, who still drew most of the attention... Or at least, a certain region of him did so.

    "Alright, lesser men," chided the steel-wrapped tank, "Here's a challenge: five minutes to make the most of these manwhores... Use 'em 'til we're bone-dry, both ways." He faced each 'partner' in turn. "Think you have the balls?"
    Blastoise shot off a solitary chuckle. "Think? Uh-uh. Know? Hell yes."
    Gengar's tongue hissed through his teeth. "No question."
    Lackadaisical hand-waving preceded Croagunk's voice. "I'm up for it."
    Wartortle's hand swooped down, to smack the fire-ape's bubble-butt. "I say we quit wasting time, and break these bitches."

    Aggron pupils cut to the side, disapprovingly. "Still grabbin' at macho, eh? Fine then..." His hips came forward, bringing the half-hard 'snake' to dangle by Wartortle's head. "... I'm buildin' a major wizz, and your tiny ass's gonna aim the 'highway' on its long journey. Get me?"

    Nodding lightly as possible, the shorter shell-owner mumbled inaudiably, took Aggron's dick in his hand, and ignored the pierce of six stares. From this, Chimchar gazed straight down the barrel of a wide slithole, and realized he was in for a good drenching. His lids remained open, admiring the weapon's size, until the first trickle escaped it... Then, closing them tight, he tried not to gasp in arousal, waiting for the hot surge to reach its target.

    But while Aggron was positioned to his side, the first warm sensation splashed his rear. Gengar's relieved sigh, gave way to Blastoise's horny groan, and as a high-powered stream hit from Aggron's direction, he felt a third start to trickle down his scalp.

    It was simply too much, and he couldn't hold his pleasurable coo's escape, while yellow streams cut a path through his fur... He just hoped it wouldn't land on their bad side, or stop the poké-stud's piss from gushing over him. His wish was answered, only due to their focus being trained on the moment; those who weren't giving up their bladderfuls, stood furiously 'enjoying' the show.

    "Fuck yeah, think I'll pick up where I left off." Wartortle's voice came muffled through doused monkey ears, so it took the flame-ape by surprise when his jaw was forced open, and a familiar cock shoved inside.

    He had no complaints, and in little time he was feverishly working his tongue over  'Tortle's meat. The stream from Blastoise had shifted courses, in the march down his head, and was running straight down by his nose... So while he serviced the smaller turtle's manhood, the larger's wizz infiltrated his mouth, just enough to swallow as he blew.

    Charmeleon's face didn't stray from its focus, on his bound peer. Scaled orange skin took spatters of splashback from the trio of sources, and to see how Chimchar clearly enjoyed it, his prick was hard as Aggron's armour. He had time only to heave a sigh, wishing he could reach the selfsame cock, before a slimy hand gripped his scalp, turned it forward and dropped to fling open his jaw.

    "Now, we can't let him hog all the attention", leered Croagunk, staring down at his bulbous manhood before gaze leapt to Char. "Pop always said, finish what you start."

    After taking in the sight of Chimchar showered in manpiss, the lizard uke craved having something to suck... So as the newt cock forced its way behind his teeth, he started in with motions so quick and agile, it gave the fire-ape a run for his money. Naturally, Croagunk's jaw dropped at the skillful service, a set of punctuated moan-breaths for every sweep of Char's tongue... Upside, underside, left and right, back and forth, no nook or cranny was left untouched for more than a second at a time... At this rate, his dominating newt could easily blow two loads in the non-binding time limit.

    But Chimchar caught the newt's wailing pleasure, and with the slurping audio besides, knew what was afoot. Clearly, it was no longer a case of predator-prey, but of two subservient cockmongers, eager to please their masculine company. And if sound was any indication, he was being out-skilled... If it's a contest he wants, mused the primate, let's see who's the better slut.

    Wartortle gave a light wince, as the pressure on his meat increased... The searing simian's cheeks were in full-on suck, and bobbed on their charge with wild abandon. The stream of urine from behind was quickly losing strength, a sure sign that Gengar's supply was nullified. Droplets hit all corners of the ape's rear, as a ghostly hand shook off his meat, but the plasmic penis inched forward with its owner, rubbing up and down the well-loosened passage. In his Cheshire-cat grin, Gengar turned to address the culprit. "Holy hell Aggron, can anybody use a slut after you've had your way with 'em?"

    The reply was, naturally, prefaced with a prideful laugh. "Maybe with a King-sized Thor, but not what they're packin'." Upon this, his piss-jet was lessening as well, and he contracted his muscles to force the rest over Chimchar in a single burst. It might've culled a joyful groan from the ape, if it weren't for his focus on outdoing the lizard... 

    ... In the span of thirty seconds, keen on each other's intent, there waged a full-on battle of the blowings. Each time Charmeleon upped his pace, or switched up with a differing motion, Chimchar would answer with the same, only heightened even further, or more fervently. All that pierced their concentration, were the also-heightened yelps between Croagunk and Wartortle, who didn't expect such a war to wage... Let alone one so glaringly in their favour.

    Though, there was one drawback to this. "Goddamnit," Blastoise hissed, "Got me so hard I can't piss!" To be the only one not to exhaust his supply, was less than pleasing, but the solution was an easy one. "Guess my dick's tellin' me to take a piece o' the action. Oh well."

    Sarcasm dripped from his words, just as piss dripped from his stiffening cock, which made its way over to Charmeleon's taint. Lifting the orange tail, he wouldn't drop to his knees, to meet Char's passage like the others... Instead, his muscled arm lifted tail AND body off the ground, tickling the herp's rim before shoving in at full-force.

    It took all Char had, not to clamp down on Croagunk's bulb... But he managed it, and morphed the pain into something that would aid his contest with Chimchar. By now, they were in silent agreement, that the winner would be first to take loads down their gullet. And with talent like theirs, it could go either way, but it would have to go soon.

    "Heh heh... Yeah, wreck that tailhole, Blast'..." The steel-tank's baritone overcut the duo of cock-sucked moans, pleased more by the tall tortoise's ass-fucking. Remaining to the side, he stood against Chimchar, slowly working his meat with both hands. "Show that manslut who's boss. Besides me." Gazing down to admire his blessing, it quickly re-hardened, to what it was before spending itself in the monkey. So his stroking sped up, while thrusts from Blastoise did the same.

    Chimchar and Charmeleon cut eyes at one another, taunting the only way they presently could. Charmeleon dived whole-hog down to Croagunk's root, drawing back with his lips raking firmly. Chimchar's turn, and he followed suit, while also slipping his tongue out to bat at a pair of blue balls. While they matched each other, keeping toe-to-toe while spit and precum matted chin and lips, there could only be one victor... And seconds later, it was Chimchar, as his water-type 'top' gave deep, wailing moans, fucking the fire-ape's throat. 

    Shots of mancream made their way straight to his stomach, while his tongue and lips worked madly to draw them out. But his victory came easy, as Wartortle's meat was pretty-much average, and perfect for this... While the newt's climax approached, the thickness of his bulb would be a step up in difficulty, if the lizard was to do the same. While Croagunk's load rapidly shot through his dick, his peak-motions had more ferocity, using his knees to jam the choad-bulb down deep into Char's maw. For a moment, it was enough to uncomfortably gag him, but he quickly relaxed his throat, and the smooth texture of Croagunk's jizz helped to further ease the burden... Which wasn't made any easier, by the fact he had the other, bigger tortoise to contend with.

    "Ahhh... Hahhhh..." Piercing grunts drove the rhythm of Blastoise's anal conquest, showing no pause or mercy in using the herp. Every so often, he'd turn focus to Aggron's meat, who was conversely watching him, and both would get a quick boost in arousal. While Wartortle pulled slowly out, smacking Chimchar across the nose with a light, late donkey-punch for his own amusement, Gengar tried in vain to fill the ape's back passage. "It's no use. Fuck, Agg, you ruined the poor squirt."

    "Meh, he'll be back to normal in a week or so, and you small guys can have your fun." Still paying heed to Blastoise, his jacking heightened once more, both fists working together on his pulsing silver spear. Croagunk drew back from the Char's lips, his load spent, and Gengar just-plain gave up on 'fitting' the simian rear, but the two larger cronies were well on their way.

    Closing his eyes, Blastoise pumped hard, feeling the first slight tingle on its way. It could only drive him harder, and as he crossed the finish line, it was unforgiving enough to cause Char a yelp for every thrust. Aggron looked on from his position, practically drooling at the turtle cock blasting into a much-smaller receiver, and that same tingle gave him a sudden visit.

    Four pairs of eyes were watching the tall tortoise fill Charmeleon's insides, but straightaway, all attention was on Aggron, whose booming groans made a second showing. Both hands jerked like mad on his huge endowment, and Blastoise had barely finished his 'session', when it came to fruition.

    Pointing halfway-vertical, the massive silver cock erupted, coating Charmeleon, Chimchar and five feet of the floor beyond them... With only the first rope. Then another shot forth, extending that reach by another six inches, and the next did a quarter-foot better. Gape-mouthed as Wartortle was, like the rest, he was the only one to think on his feet, and grabbed Chimchar's torso to swing him up against the overlong weapon.

    Before the flame-ape quite knew what to do, he took a full-powered rope right to the face, close enough to feel the wind from Aggron's double-fisted motion. Scent from the musty cock - primed with his own ass - wafted through his nostrils, before they were coated with the next few shots at point-blank. Again and again, the steel 'mon's hugely-hung meat fired equally-huge shots, until after the fifteenth or so, they quickly started losing their punch.

    Blastoise, Wartortle, Croagunk, Charmeleon and a somewhat-dejected Gengar, marveled at how heavily the fire-monkey's face was drizzled with manjuice... Any heavier, would be like wrappings on a Hollywood mummy. With heavy, panting breaths, exhausted from his own virility, he practically collapsed on his rear, and slowly milked the last few drops from their fourteen-inch squirtgun. "Ssshhhhit... I love bein' huge."

    "And let's not forget, full of ammo", Blastoise added, callously dropping Char's tail like a ton of bricks. "Guess that does it... I don't think these two cock-whores'll be craving attention for a long while."

    The plasmic Poké shook off his letdown, and adjusted his jacket. "Tchyeah, why would they... Can't do any better than us."

    The fearsome five shared a set of dark chuckles, while Wartortle gazed at the door. "Well, back to reality. Think I'll go catch a few battles, this has me feeling pepped up."

    "Same here", offered Croagunk, and they started towards the exit. In the moment before taking leave, the shorter amphibian flashed a grin at Chimchar. "Later, fags, 'til I track you down again. And you know I will."

    Blastoise returned a short, masculine wave, as the door closed behind them, and focus swayed to Aggron. "Think I should go, too... Stomach's growlin', and my trainer knows this great steakhouse down the street."

    A solitary nod. "Sounds good..." His face swung to their last remaining brethren. "You up for it, ghostface?"

    Gengar's flick of the wrist and fingers, accompanied his answer. "No thanks... I think I'll drop by Viridian city... There's these two guys I've been achin' to see again. And they'll be happy to see me, too... Eventually." With a snap of his fingers, his form began fading, and upon two seconds had completely vanished.

    Crossing their arms, Blastoise and Aggron exchanged furtive glances, before turning to follow newt-and-turtle out. Halfway there, however, they were stopped by a weak-but-loud protest, in Chimchar's voice.

    "So you guys are just gonna leave us here on the ground, tied up?"

    Aggron's smirk aimed at his partner. "Man has a point... We should do better than that."

    "Totally agree... No reason they shouldn't come with us."

    The eyes of both ukes, instantly widened, as Charmeleon broke his silence. "Wait, that's not what he-"

    "No, no, he's right, you guys are probably hungry as well." Blastoise stooped over, and instead of untying them, propped them over each shoulder. "So we'll all be having meat... But it'll only be steak for two of us."

    Aggron enjoyed a good belly-laugh, pushing open the rusty door ahead of Blastoise, and holding it for him. As the heavy panel swung shut behind them, two thoughts diluted the purity of Chimchar's reticent foresight; he'd never hoped for an orgy of quite this magnitude, and he was just glad he wouldn't be the one to mop up behind them.

    ... Small victories.