You burst out the door of the laboratory with the tails of your sleek white lab coat flapping to keep up, clipboard snug close to your chest. You use your free big blue paw to adjust the square rimmed glasses clinging to your face (doubling as an assurance you didn’t leave them behind) and hustle your way eastward. You don’t mind your unkempt fluffy blue tail flicking behind nor your dreads flopping about, or anything at all regarding your appearance really, since the latest rumors came through the grape vine: A rather remarkable specimen of a Pokémon was sighted somewhere in the Wayward Woodlands and you would be the first to document everything about him or her, making a name for yourself! Your Riolu form was built for exercise to a degree and your excited jog to the woods wasn’t on your mind at all, even if you did wind up panting a bit along the way. Colleagues joked about how your head was heavier than the rest of you put together with how much you excelled in the lab, though your persistence at remaining indoors studying or researching left you with a considerable amount of energy not burned compared to a typical battle-honed Riolu. Despite the extra junk in the trunk you nimbly sprint through the afternoon crowds of your village and leave it all behind. Any other number of scientists would be eager to be the first to turn in a report of a new variety of Pokémon and you think you haven’t a moment to lose!
You know the Wayward Woodlands are close when the crisp aroma of autumn leaves hit you full-force. Indeed, a moment later you’re huffing and puffing over the crest of a hill and finding yourself crunching across many fallen leaves of various hues of orange and yellow. You don’t spend a second admiring the view, though, too in a rush to get to your destination: A quarter mile down the Wayward Woodlands path, then a left at the big oak, then keep going. That’s what eyewitness accounts report strange activity and sightings of, allegedly, a Delphox. But no ordinary Delphox, commander of the flame! Allegedly, frozen branches and creeks you could skate on dotted the area described to you. With no other known Ice-types inhabiting the area, you are certain this means one thing: A Delphox who controls ice! If all goes smoothly you know you’ll be made top lab assistant at the very least, if not being granted ownership of a lab of your very own! But despite all that giddiness as you blaze down the path through the woods, your general lack of physical activity catches up to you, and you’re forced to slow into something of a speed-walk. You pound the dirt with your heavy-set digitigrade grace and keep your orange eyes peeled for that oak tree.
As it turns out, the guidance wasn’t necessary. You feel a plain-as-day chill across your left side once you’re deep enough into the woods, and immediately turn into that too-cold air and dash into it head-on. Your glasses fog up a bit but that doesn’t stop you from seeing occasional splashes of melting ice on some tree trunks. Target practice? you hypothesize as you jog, second wind well underway. The air grows chillier all around you the further you go, and you stop when you spy a lone cottage in a clearing, isolated from wandering travelers who stick to the path. Your heart soars and you don’t waste a moment, speeding right up to the door and knocking several times. You sink and bound up on your long heels as you wait for an answer, doing your best to control that swaying tail of yours, when the door opens!
You raise a paw from a sudden gust of chilly air while using your lab coat collar to wipe built-up moisture from your glasses, blinking several times when a fog of chill blossoms outward and dissipates. You find yourself staring at a pair of legs and a sea of sky-blue fur, with a large tail resting behind it all. You glance upward to spy exactly what it was you were looking for! A Delphox, easily twice your height, multiple blues and whites coloring this variant up most unlike the usual Delphox fare. A lengthy navy blue scarf drapes down both sides of his neck, ending around the waistline, and you have to stop yourself from jumping for joy… the Ice-type’s reaction to you helping out with that. The Pokémon is unphased by the chilly cottage climate and looks down at you with a begrudging, icy stare. “Yes?” he asks, unmoving.
“U-uh…” you sputter, trying to gather your thoughts hastily. Focus! “H-hi! I’m from the village laboratory and I heard there was a rather unique Delphox here in the W-Wayward Woodlands. And well here you are!”
“Mmhmm,” the Delphox sighs, not at all impressed with your introduction. “Another scientist… I suppose you won’t be leaving without having your way with me, huh?” Before you can answer, the Delphox reaches behind the door and grabs something, which you find to be not a typical Delphox stick, but a staff, silvery with a bright blue orb at its tip. Said tip bears down on you and nudges your clipboard. “Here for more research?” The question gives you pause.
“...Have others stopped by already?” You really hope you’re the first! You feel relieved when the Delphox shakes his head.
“No, just… Just come in. Don’t expect to stay too long though.” He beckons with his staff and leads you inward. You carefully enter, and find things to be surprisingly comfortable despite the chill. Aside from the temperature, nothing was out of the ordinary with the cottage: Furnishings and living space for one, including a tidy kitchen area, with a bedroom off in the corner. You gasp when a sudden frigid air blows by you, the cottage door closing with a snap. “Come, now,” the Delphox beckons, taking a seat on a sofa and putting his legs up in a relaxed, lazy position and laying his staff across his lap. “You sit there,” he pointed at a cushy chair opposite the small coffee table between, “and ask what you want.”
“Alright!” You get the definite feeling you’re less than welcome, but at least the Delphox was being respectful and hospitable! You take what you can get and settle down on a chair far too big for you. You could easily curl up for a nap if you wanted, but there was far too much on your mind to even think of doing that. You sit on the edge with legs dangled over and bring your clipboard to bare. Nothing’s written on the paper as you pull a pencil from a breast pocket, ready to take as many notes as you can, and clear your throat. “So! What’s your name?” you ask, pencil poised.
“Frost.” He says one word, you write 100, looking up and down the lazed Delphox’s form from the tip of his ears down to the tail ladled over the armrest at the end of the couch, tip flicking irritably. Frost rolls his eyes as you scribble away, but doesn’t say a word until you’re done. “Anything else? I was about to have lunch before you interrupted.”
“Erm…” You pause to adjust your glasses and to recall the next questions. “How old are you? Were your parents regular Pokémon or did they also share your ice affinity? How cold can you make things?” You peek over your clipboard, pencil at the ready and smiling politely, though that falters when you see the annoyed glare coming from Frost.
“None of your business, none of your business, and cold enough,” came the gruff responses in a flurry. You awkwardly nod and take some more notes, mostly things you still need to discover beyond what the Delphox is telling you. A quiet growling sound interrupts you and you snap your head up to peer over at Frost again, but he obviously wasn’t the one doing the growling. Where did that noise come from? You mentally shrug it off and take a few more notes. The exasperated sigh, however, definitely came from Frost. “How much more are you gonna write down? I barely said anything.”
“N-not much more!” you pipe up quickly, finishing off a note and looking back up. “Just trying to be thorough and all.”
“Could you maybe try and be a bit quicker, scientist?” Frost sneers. “I don’t have all day and you’re already getting to pry too much–”
“Where were you born?” you interrupt without thinking, and cringe when the Ice-type Delphox bares his teeth at you and definitely does growl this time around. “I- er, if your comfortable saying.” Frost swished his tail irritably, the large thing tossed over himself and dangling by his relaxed hinds.
“Don’t you science Pokémon talk to each other?” he seethed. “You should damn well know where I came from. All the prodding and nonsense I had to put up with as a Fennekin and you all still want more from me?” The air about frost drops several degrees and you can see ice glittering along the surface of the sofa he’s sprawled on. “Maybe I should demonstrate how cold I can make other Pokémon…”
“N-no need for that!” you stammer quickly, holding the clipboard up as a meager shield and wincing in anticipation. But after a few moments, no frosty blast came, and when you peek over again Frost was back to his annoyed look… but at least non-threatening. After a pregnant pause or two, your innate curiosities get the better of you so you proceed onward. You ask a couple more probably-too-personal questions while scribbling down Frost’s apparent short temper, and question whether it’s just him or if it has anything to do with his icy variance promoting it. You scoot further back in the big squashy armchair you’re in as Frost grows visibly more irritated, though still gives curt, if vague, responses to your questions. You find yourself up against the back of the chair before you know it, legs splayed across the large cushion and tail pressed around one of your hips, and you try to write as fast as you can to get your thoughts and Frost’s short answers down.
“Okay, just a few more questions,” you say for the second or third time. It’s hard for you to remember when you’re really sinking your teeth into a fascinating projects. You’re getting to the heart of the interview now, and the responses Frost gives could really lead you to some fascinating conclusions! “When did–”
“No,” Frost cuts you off, “no more questions. You’ve dug quite far into my personal affairs and you researchers have gotten more than enough out of me.” Frost lifts his staff and swings the orb your way. You flinch and peek over the clipboard only to realize he’s pointing it not at you, but the door. “Now get out of my home.”
You’re stunned! You’ve just gotten to the most important part of the interview and you’re being stonewalled! But it’s very obvious the Delphox wants nothing to do with you – or anybody else in your field it seems – but your heart yearns for more information. You awkwardly clear your throat and scoot back up to the chair, as if to leave, but pause once you’re on the edge again. Your voice is shaky so you try to calm yourself by adjusting your glasses, trying to look like the most objective, caring, professional Riolu you can be. “But I have just a few more…” you begin, though whatever you have to say next dies on your lips, as Frost growls (somehow without moving his lips – where was that coming from?) and is suddenly standing. His tail sways behind him in irritation and he brandishes his staff with both paws, definitely aiming it right at you.
Shivering behind your wooden shield of a clipboard, you daintily slide off your seat and start backing towards the door. The last thing you want to experience first hand is what happens to Riolu who’s frozen solid! The threatening staff pointed your way was finally enough to snap you out of your thirst for knowledge, and the only thing on your mind now was to try and get the heck out of that cottage! You take a couple steps back, yelping when your rump bumps against the edge of your chair, then looking up frightfully at Frost. He glowers down at you and approaches until the tip of the staff clinks to your clipboard. “That’s right, get…” Frost begins, though a weird expression crosses his face at that moment, making him fall silent. He seems to be considering something, only for that ominous grrrlwwn to sound out again. You and he both look at the now-identified source: The Delphox’s belly, weakly gurgling in hunger. “Actually,” Frost murmurs with a slow smile. “Don’t you go anywhere.” It doesn’t take an egghead to intuit what Frost had in mind for you, and you once more defy the Delphox by turning tail and bolting for the door! You make it all of three steps before a bright blue blast screams from behind you, and you let out a squeal of your own when a glacial chill warps around your body. Your vision clouds immediately when ice creeps from the edges of your vision, and you come to a halt. You will yourself to move, but not a scrap of fur does. A horrifying realization comes to you at that moment: You’ve been frozen solid!
Ice entombs you from all angles, and you can’t even move your eyes. You want to scream, but you can’t, just stuck there, at the mercy of the Pokémon you pissed off. The first you see of him in your frozen state, not two feet form the door, is his bulky tail swishing into view, before the rest walks around and crouches, condescendingly patting your icy roof. “Now try to ask me something,” Frost taunts with a grim chuckle. Terror races through your frozen form when you see him stand and whip the staff up like a club, and you know what’s going to happen next: The staff will come down, shattering the ice and the Riolu within into dozens of frozen chunks, and–
The staff strikes! You would flinch but you can’t move a molecule. The ice crumbles as you predicted… but you remain in one piece! The same can’t be said, however, for your lab coat, bits of fabric clinging to the ice you’re grateful your body wasn’t. Your precious notes and clipboard also don’t survive, your day’s work scattered across the floor in hundreds of pieces. You stand before the angered Frost now, arms around your body, teeth chattering. You can only kind of see as your glasses are frosted over, but you can still make out the Delphox set the staff aside and reach for you. You tell your body to move but it’s in stay-warm mode, and you can only manage a whimper when Frost grabs the scruff of your neck and hefts you off the ground. “I told you I was about to eat lunch. In fact, I haven’t eaten all day.” Frost’s voice is silkier, more relaxed. No more were you an annoying pest badgering him with questions.
Now you were the very thing you made him miss out on in the first place: A meal!
“D-d-d-don’t…” you shiver, but Frost easily carries your chilled body back to the sofa, where he resumes lounging, now with a Riolu in tow! You let out a whimpering stutter when you’re brought up to the Delphox’s maw, and he oh-so-casually licks across your face, clearing your glasses off from the sudden application of hot drool. Frost mumbles appreciatively, and slurps up your chest and down to your meaty thighs. You cringe away from the contrasting warm maw but with his grip to your nape, you’re stuck enduring Frost’s sampling of you.
“Mmm… It never occurred to me you pathetic lab rattatas would taste so succulent,” Frost comments. Your eyes widen when you’re suddenly dropped onto Frost’s midsection, just in time to hear what now sounds like a nightmarish churning from within. Clearly, your taste has stirred up the Delphox’s stomach. You hear Frost loudly licking his chops at the same moment a firm grip is formed around the base of your tail. And as suddenly as you fell, you’re hefted back up, frozen limbs dangling uselessly while your snout is within an inch of a slobbering mouth. “It’s the perfect fate given what you bastards have done to me over the years: Feeding me, and melting down into nothingness.”
“N-n-no!” you stammer as a too-wide Delphox mouth parts before your very eyes, tongue flopping out past rows of jagged teeth. So big that you terrifyingly figure Frost could gobble you up in one bite! “No Frost! I-I’ll never bother you again!” He ignores you, casually hefting your rear higher, tilting your head down towards a widened set of jaws. You thrust your forepaws in front to try and press to the furry lips, but they end up slipping right in, splatting on the tongue. Frost uses that cue to heft your rump up further, tipping your muzzle right between the gums. “Eugh, gross!” You sink further into the mouth, teeth clamping roughly around your chest, front paws disappearing down a greedy gullet with a soft, distressing ULRK. “Let me out! I’m not your lunch!” Your body shivers in fear, though your backside is still quite cold from the icy blast you took moments ago. The Delphox’s insides were as hot and slimy as any Pokémon’s. And you’re sure that the stomach you’re destined for will work just like any others too! “I’m not food!”
You squirm about in the dripping maw, groaning when the active tongue beneath your chin and chest slathers sticky drool all over your bare fur. The gullet in front of your snout suddenly SPLRTCHES open, Frost clearly not heeding your words and indeed intending on eating you alive! You lose self-control and scream when you’re pulled down into the tight, pulsating muscles. Hot slobber cakes your belly and splashes to your thighs as a powerful GULP rings all around your devoured head. Your jaws are pointed straight down into the opaque innards of Frost, giving you enough room to begin babbling for your life now. Though even your own words are muffled with your ears stuck against the sticky throat muscles while they pummel and devour you further. You can feel the murring voice of Frost as he enjoys your pudgier waistline, feel him loosely chew and smack around your rump. You kick those hinds of yours up and down, while thrashing your now dripping-wet tail side to side in a vain effort to get Frost to quit, but he just ignores your efforts and samples one thigh, then the other, back and forth. You feel a sudden toss of the jaws, your hinds limply hanging outward and to the sides with gravity now working against you. GLK… ULK… GLRP… Your body inches downward, every breath now a challenge (especially since you won’t stop squealing about your fate, raspy as they are) with your arms pinned to your sides and precious little room to spare. Your hinds point outward in opposite directions, but are brought together when your prodigious Riolu rear is gobbled up next: Delphox canines roughly slide over your backside fur, meeting right at the joint of your hindpaws. You clench your eyes and holler in terror when your legs come together, tail pinned between your paws: Most of you was either in Frost’s bulging throat, or his slimy hot mouth! “L-l-let me oooout!”
You stop your protests suddenly when your muzzle scrunches harshly against the opening to the stomach. Like the throat, it squelches open, but only just enough to drop you in, snout-first! Terrifying odors reach your snout when it plunges inward, and above you can tell that your wriggling paws and what remains of your tail are slurped up! A paw presses to each of Frost’s cheeks, bulging them outward, while he slips his tongue up to cup against your uncovered butt. It presses hard and guides the rest of you to the back of the throat. Your head sluices right through the stomach sphincter and squashes to the bottom of the belly when you’re swallowed completely whole! The loud swallowing sounds from behind even penetrate the gearing-up rumbles of the belly, more of you pouring into that tight sweltering chamber by the second! Frost pushes against what’s passing through his gullet, and you feel that compression when your indoor-life-enhanced thighs and wriggling paws squeeze down his throat. All-too-soon you’re completely reunited with yourself, pushed every which way as your body contorts and pretzels together to make use of what little room you’re offered in the now-gurgling stomach. “L-let me oooout!” you pray with eyes clenched shut in the dank confines of the stomach. Your chin is squished to the back and bottom of the stomach, with your rump pressing against the top of your head. The contorted position is painful, but you can’t do a thing about it, feeling your tail tickle the top of your snout as itchy stomach fluids pour in and begin to cover you completely.
GLLRLRRRGLE.. GLORK CHLLLLLG…
Your world is nothing but tight compressions from an unforgiving stomach lining combined with stomach acids coating your entire body again and again. Your world shakes when Frost pats his protruding belly with an echoing thmp thmp thmp. Your whining is soon accompanied with a burbling sound with your head mostly coated in now-stinging stomach fluids, which causes you to squirm about the sloshy belly with all your might. You maybe manage to jiggle the bulging Delphox tummy a little, but do nothing to help with your current situation.
What little air you can sense is suddenly vacuumed out and rushed away. You vaguely feel your glasses, somehow still intact, yanked from your face as what little precious oxygen remained you were now deprived. Earth-shattering churns roar from all around you as stomach fluids now completely fill the pockets of the stomach you do not occupy, and you try and pound the belly walls in one last desperate attempt to get free. But it was all for nothing, and despite having no means of sight in the gurgling stomach, you still “see” everything going dark, succumbing to your fate as a unique Pokémon’s rather filling lunch!
*\t*\t*
“BWUAARRRP!” Frost belches thickly, your acid-stained glasses clattering to the floor. Frost removes his paw from his bulging, churning gut, once he feels no more movement from you. He grins and licks his lips as the noisy burbles of digestion begin to overpower the whole cottage. Frost looks down to your discarded glasses, and crushes them under one of his hinds, grinding them to a pulp, then brushing them and the chunks of your coat and brushes them away. He’ll clean up your mess later. “That hit the spot,” Frost mutters to himself, knowing you were no longer around to converse with. Frost lazes right where he is for a little while, idly pawing and kneading into his noisy tummy every so often, picking his teeth to remove bits of your fur, and enjoying the sounds of silence in his remote cottage. “I think I know exactly what to do with nosy scientists like you… whatever your name was. Not that it matters,” Frost chortles, flicking his tail up and down cheekily. “After all, you were nothing but lunch at the end of the day.” Frost ruminates about you for a little while longer, until he feels like standing and getting back to his day. You’re not around at all by the time he does, digestion well-underway, and the Delphox belly transitioning from your various bulges to a smoother, rounder paunch. You end up leaving little more then a dent of paunch against that icy blue fur coat, and are forgotten by Frost even before then. Who knows what the laboratory will think of your sudden departure, as you never return from your fateful trip to Frost’s cottage in the Wayward Woodlands. Instead of attaining any kind of scientific glory or prestige, you were nothing but a cold Delphox’s filling lunch!
\n\t\t\t\t\tfrostyfennekin!