User:Sygerrik

This user thinks Userboxes are retarded.

A Sonichu Fiction

Be warned, this is incredibly graphic and horrible. Seriously. Don't read this if you harbor hope for the essential goodness of humanity. The explicit scenes are sadly very poorly written because I was just trying to get through them as fast as possible and didn't take the time to pick words carefully or structure paragraphs well. This is my imagining of what it would be like if a Pokemon trainer ever actually went to Cwcville to challenge its Pokemon Gym.

I've spent my entire life wanting to be something else. When I was a child, I couldn't wait to grow up. When I got my first Pokemon, I wanted to show the world what I could do. Today, I would give up everything I've worked for-- everything I've accomplished-- for just a bus ticket out of here. My name is Kenen, and I'm a Pokemon master. Well, let me qualify that. I'm almost a Pokemon master. I have seven badges, I've trained my team to the peak of perfection, I've crossed the world more times than I can count. I've even taken down the leader of Team Arctic and saved the world from his nefarious plans. So why am I here, in a filthy Soup Hotel room, drinking Long Island Iced Teas and working up the courage to jump out a window? That's the trick, isn't it? It's so easy to say "it was inevitable," to assume that my current predicament is the fault of fate or random chance. It's easy to blame it on someone else. But didn't I come here? Didn't I listen to the advice, and choose to compete for the Autism Badge? Didn't I look at that one empty spot in my badge case, and set myself against this task? I did. I did. And while it would be nice to say that I had no idea what I was getting into, I did it fully forewarned about what I would find here. I thought I was prepared. I guess you live and learn. You learn, anyways.

I arrived in Cwcville, unheralded, on a bus that smelled like a longshoreman's armpit. It's pretty isolated from the rest of Kanto, and I started to realize why the second I stepped off the bus. Normally, the first thing I do when I enter a new town is scope out the Pokemon Center. It's good to know where to go if one of my friends faints, or if I want to access a PC. It's such a reflex that the second I see a red roof, it grabs my attention. That's why the Cwcville skyline seemed so... wrong. I kept looking for something that simply wasn't there, and its absence was like a loose tooth. I kept willing it to be different, unable to let it go, like I was probing an abscess.

I should have left then. That was the first sign.

The town was... strange, to say the least. It was filthier than a Grimer's litter box, for one thing. Discarded food wrappers, bits of paper, cardboard boxes-- it looked like we had arrived just after a party. As it turns out, I was almost right. It was not a comfort.

The town was built around an imposing building that was labeled simply "CWCVILLE MALL." Well, a mall means stores, and stores mean Potions, Revives, Full Heals, Pokeballs, and all of the other tools of my trade. I picked my way across the rubble-strewn green, avoiding any trash I couldn't identify. I'm not sure if Antidotes work on human beings, and I don't mean to find out. I already wanted to get checked into a hotel somewhere, get my badge, and get out of here.

The mall was an imposing brutalist building, two stories high, with two large sweeping wings that put me in mind of a rather severe boarding school. Inside was not much better; it looked like the same cleanup crew who was tasked to take care of the park was in charge here. Most of the stores were shuttered, and those few that remained bore unusual logos: Goodwill, Gamestop, and McDonalds, instead of Poke Mart or Trainer Mart. A sign indicated that upstairs was the "Mayor's Office." As I climbed the spiral staircase, the second strange thing about the town hit me-- I hadn't seen another living soul so far. Granted, it was late, but I would expect to run into an Officer Jenny in the park, or even a wild Pokemon or two. The town seemed abandoned. The office occupied yet another storefront, the only occupied store I could see on this floor. Inside, it was a dim waiting room with dingy grey linoleum and a stack of ancient Nintendo Power magazines sitting on a coffee table. Behind a low counter sat a bored-looking woman with stringy blond hair. She looked up as I entered. Her voice was a monotone, as if reading off a cue card. "Welcome to Cwcville, home of Sonichu. What brings you to our fabulous town?"

She had one of the most penetrating stares I'd ever seen. I've been stared down by cocky gym leaders, desperate Team Arctic Grunts and more than one unhinged Bug Catcher, but this was the first time I had been stared at by someone caught in their own private hell. I've never instructed a Pokemon to attack a human, but I came closest in that office, just as one would shoot a racehorse with a broken leg. She looked like she would welcome it.

Instead, I tried to stay focused on the task at hand. "Good evening, Ms... Amber. I'm here to challenge the Gym Leader. Could you point me in the direction of the Pokemon Center and a place to stay for the night?"

She shuddered, and reached over the counter, key in hand. That monotone again: "This will let you into one of our ten... magnificent Soup Hotels. The Pokemon Center is in the Gym. And... good luck." And was there something there? Something more than rote? I like to think so. I'll probably never know.

So what is a Soup Hotel? Well, if this one is a paragon of the type, they're stinking, rat-infested hovels where bums drag their worthless carcasses after a day of panhandling and smoking crack. Half of the doors are missing, the windows are broken up, and the stench of urine is appalling. I let Metagross out, figuring his immunity to poison would make it easy for him to help clean up, and Milotic tried to pressure-wash a greenish-brown stain out of the walls, but it's an uphill battle.

While they worked to making the room livable, I figured I'd scope out the competition. I didn't even know what type the Cwcville gym was. I found it easily enough, and finding it unlocked, I pushed open the door. Inside, the gym was a fairly standard setup; it was a ring about 150 yards across, bounded by a running track. I didn't see any junior trainers, which wasn't unusual in and of itself. These towns out in the boonies often have just the gym leader, since not enough trainers pass through to warrant hiring on a full staff. Of course, that wasn't the only reason, as I would find out soon enough. My mind wasn't on any of those things, however, as I stopped dead in the door. The sight that greeted me drove any thoughts of Pokemon battling from my mind.

In the center of the floor writhed two figures. It took a moment for me to figure out what I was seeing. An obese man and a strange yellow Pokemon were wrapped in unnatural congress. Time seemed to stop and I perceived the horrifying scene with preternatural clarity. The man was short and pasty, with thick glasses and greasy, thinning hair atop an acne-riddled scalp. He wore a filth-encrusted striped shirt that clung to his frame like a wet dishrag. His rolls of fat bulged and wobbled obscenely as he spasmed back and forth like a man in the throes of electrocution. His pants were around his ankles, and his cock was stuffed deep into the Pokemon in front of him.

The Pokemon was tall and thin, with short yellow fur and a pointed nose. It was vaguely humanoid, and even wore clothes-- or at least shoes. Its eyes were closed and it groaned and squealed like a rusted chain as the man-- who I had to assume was its owner-- roughly sodomized it. He wore a medallion displaying a crude likeness of the Pokemon, which thumped against his jiggling breasts as he thrust in and out, in and out. The suffering Pokemon was bent almost double to accommodate the bent cock of its owner and his protruding stomach fat. As I watched, the man pulled out of his Pokemon partner with a wet slurping sound, and the Pokemon spun around, grabbing the twisted member and plunging it into its mouth. Its tongue lapped gently around the razor-burned scrotum, and I saw with horror that the fur around its mouth was matted and clumped with dried semen.

I could feel the bile rising in my throat, but I was rooted to the spot and unable to act. The Pokemon stood up and leaned forward, and some kind of pouch on its stomach slid open. A thin, almost prehensile tube swung out and began to inflate, and I realized with horror that it was the Pokemon's genitals. The fat man leaned forward with a sick grin of anticipation on his face and the Pokemon swiftly mounted him, swinging forward and plunging its turgid member in between its master's quivering butt-cheeks. It pulled nearly entirely out, exposing its feces-covered penis to the air, then stuck it all the way back in, eliciting a howl of ecstasy from the convulsing man. Particles of shit exploded outward from the junction between them as his ass-cheeks jiggled and jumped. Their bodies slapped together with a sound like a wet steak being thrown against a brick wall, and the Pokemon stiffened as orgasm overtook it. Thick, ropey jets of gluey grey shot out of the tip of its penis, which the fat man eagerly lapped up and licked from his fingers. I could hold my revulsion no longer, and felt my knees give out as my lunch splashed all over the concrete floor. The sound attracted the notice of both lovers, and I scrambled backwards madly, nearly braining myself on the doorframe in my haste to escape.

END OF PART 1