A mud-caked golem emerges from the novel-editing pits, croaking in agony, baying like a hound of hell. His servants attend to him, scraping the filth from his skin.
“AniMessenger-sensei… you have returned.”
Yes, The AniMessenger has returned–new, changed, consumed by his vocation–to be the very best (at writing erotic Pokemon fanfiction). Like no one ever was, in fact. Welcome to–
Now, to the question at hand: “Please, AniMessenger! For the love of all things pure and holy, can you tell us the complete behind-the-scenes history of 2.B.A. Master… bater?”
Fine, I’ll tell you. The project originated as a joke-project between The AniMessenger and his venerable best friend (j4kk)–to tap into the ethos of the early 2000s “lemon” fanfiction–hilarious, over-the-top, forays into the sordid fanimagination. The result? A collaborative You-Write-I-Write improvisational fic. Less lemon than rom-com, but altogether ridiculous either way.
May Kami have mercy on your soul.
Authors’ Note: 2.B.A. Master… bater contains anachronisms (Brock in Viridian Forest) and assorted inaccuracies throughout. The AniMessenger asks those sensistive to such non-canon affronts to kindly get over it.
2.B.A. Master… bater
Chapter One: Shadows in the Dark
The Caterpies in Viridian Forest chirped as Ash Ketchum struggled to get comfortable in his sleeping bag. The journey so far had sapped him of energy, but he couldn’t fall asleep. His mind wouldn’t turn off. Misty lay a mere two feet to his left, her sleeping bag moving up and down to the rhythm of her breathing. Her ruby hair draped across the blue material, shimmering with contrast. Ash writhed, and turned himself in the other direction. He wondered why his thoughts always settled on her. He had better things to ponder, like catching his first Pokémon for instance. Pikachu snored and cooed by Ash’s feet—at least he’d managed to tame him. But now he wondered if something else needed taming. A noise sounded from inside his sleeping bag. Ash started. Something was on the move, and it wasn’t a Pokémon.
As hard as it was, Ash attempted to tear his mind away from distracting thoughts—to close his eyes and insulate himself from the big, scary reality of nighttime in the forest. His battle with Gary today had ended ambiguously.
“If only,” Ash moaned to himself, “If only I could really get out there and prove that I am the best! But who am I kidding? What’s so special about me? I’m just a kid…”
Ash glanced downward, and was greeted by a gigantic bulge. Careening upward, his unfortunate biological “accident” completely altered the landscape. As the center of his sleeping bag ballooned higher, Ash felt his cheeks flush red. He was suddenly overcome by the urge to take matters into his own hands.
A Weedle slithered by and Ash quietly unzipped his sleeping bag, wriggling free from his cage. Already in the buff, save for a pair of boxers, Ash longed to find relief. Spotting a nearby tree, he crept toward its shelter with a steady but gaited pace. An inkling of the unspeakable deed that was about to transpire flashed across his mind’s eye. For now, it was simply enough to place one foot in front of the other, to navigate without distraction toward the dark canopy that would grant fulfillment.
A strong hand clasped his shoulder.
Ash squealed and lodged his groin against the tree trunk, hoping the chafing of bark would mask his shame.
“Hi, Ash,” Brock said.
“Brock, wh-what are you doing up so late?” Ash replied, concealing his embarrassment as discreetly as he could before turning to greet him.
“Oh, I’m always up this late.” Brock highlighted his companion with his flashlight. “It’s my midnight training ritual with Geodude here!”
“Dude!” the boulder with limbs croaked.
“Ya see,” Brock continued, “I find that the cool night air is bracing for Pokémon—enhances endurance. Ever since I started doing it, Geodude’s shell has been as hard as a rock! So hard, Ash, I’m telling ya. Wanna feel?”
“No!” Ash yelped. “No, no, that’s okay. In fact, I think I’m just gonna go back to—”
“Oh, one more thing before you go, Ash. It’s great if you crack open a Potion and just slather it all over a Pokémon’s skin. Lube them up every night until they’re almost too slick to keep a grip on. Then let the juices soak into their membranes. In the morning, they will be glowing. Just invigorated—”
Ash pushed past his talkative friend and headed for his sleeping bag. A blush scorched his cheeks and his heart pounded from the utter repression of his carnal desires.
“Wait, Ash, one more thing!”
“I’m tired, Brock.”
“No. This is about Misty.” Ash froze and met Brock’s flashing eyes with his own. “I know what you were about to do, Ash.”
“You were going to wake up Misty and tell her about how excited you are for tomorrow. I don’t blame ya, I’m getting a bit antsy myself. If this map is accurate, there’s a large pond about four miles north of here.” Brock thwapped the map with the back of his hand and beamed. “It’s supposed to be warm tomorrow, probably cracking ninety, so we’ll have to wear bathing suits. It’d be stupid not to swim, after all. It’ll be a perfect opportunity for Misty to let her water Pokémon out for some exercise, too. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to catch a Poliwag or at the very least a Magikarp!”
“Yeah,” Ash mumbled, “who knows what’ll happen.”
The aspiring Pokémon master finally made his way back to his sleeping bag. He heaved a sigh. Next time he’d be less obvious—more cautious. As the sleeping bag warmed his insides, images of Misty’s body circled around his mind. The subtle curvature of her back, her hair tickling her shoulder blades, her lily-white bosoms bouncing ever so slightly as she cavorts through the streams. Tomorrow, his journey would lead him to uncharted territories. Tomorrow, he would catch more than just Pokémon.
And, please remember: