A dream fulfilled… finally! “Ladies and gentleman of the world, trainers from all lands, say hello to your newest pokemon… Valerie!”

Awash in imagination, the Laverre Leader spun about happily, imagining the shocked and joyous faces on all the onlookers who had witnessed her marvelous metamorphosis!

But alas… it was not to be. Imagination ends, and before long, Valerie’s dream had died down, leaving her stuck in a very rude reality: she was still not yet a pokemon.

“How best to spark such a conversion?” she mused to herself. “I’ve done everything I can!” It was true. She had painstakingly crafted costume after costume, traveled to the storied Kalos region, become an expert in that most ephemeral of types, fairies… and yet she was still no closer to her goal!

Even amidst her discontentment, she could always rely on her pokemon to help her out. She heard the shuffling feet of a visitor—her Mawile, always capable of discerning when her mistress was upset, had poked inside to look at her.

“Ah, you have come to comfort me again!” Valerie praised. With a look of knowing sympathy, the creature wandered over, settling in a familiar place in her trainer’s lap. Mawile was willing to act therapeutic when her trainer was upset, letting Valerie vent her frustrations to her and pet and praise her.

They settled into their familiar rhythm, Valerie brushing her fingertips in a soothing, petting motion across her Mawile’s deceptively soft skin. “It just isn’t fair,” she complained. “I’ve made such slow progress. I want to be like you—crystallized into my real self, a beautiful pokemon for the world to partake! But those who hear my dream always react with such scorn.”

The Steel-type nodded with sympathy, and Valerie reached down to scratch underneath the pokemon’s jaw. Mawile leaned into it appreciatively.

“Pokemon are creatures of such grace, such beauty,” Valerie mused, speaking almost more to herself now than she was to her teammate. “Truthfully, how could any person not look to things so lovely and not wish to be one with them? You understand me, don’t you?”

Having been a pokemon her entire life, Valerie’s Mawile did, in fact, understand the appeal. She cooed and babbled wordlessly, her voice songful and soothing, hoping to ease her trainer’s worries. Valerie smiled at it and lavished her pokemon with even more praise.

“Just look at you. You’re perfect! A small, lithe, yet power-packed little body.” Her hands coursed down the Mawile’s shoulders, drawing shivers. “Delicate, dexterous hands!” Valerie wriggled one finger into her Mawile’s clutch; the pokemon gripped reassuringly at it and was rewarded by even firmer pets. “Hair soft to the touch, yet strong as silk… no human could match!” Stringing said hair through her fingers, Valerie almost trembled at the whisper-like touch. She had used the impeccable forms of her pokemon—Mawile, Sylveon, so many others—as inspiration for her costumes, hoping to inhabit their minds as she made a surrogate body, wanting to be them! But so far, it was all for naught.

“But nothing like this.”

Valerie’s fingers now brushed along the top of her pokemon’s most noteworthy feature, her maw. The massive mouth was as big as the rest of its owner’s whole body, and the creature shuddered slightly at the touch—the maw was incredibly sensitive. Among their species, it was considered a sign of great trust to let another touch the outside of their maw—just as Valerie was doing now.

“So strong,” Valerie mused, and she ran a tracing fingertip from the thin stem where it met her pokemon’s skull down to the very tip. Mawile shuddered at that; she was facing the same direction as her trainer as she sat, and so Valerie couldn’t see the early hints of a blush start to color her pokemon’s cheeks. “So powerful.”

Holding her Mawile tight to her with one hand, Valerie took her other and began tracing the lip of her pokemon’s mouth, running smoothy along it and making the pokemon shudder as she delicately ran her finger along every toothy bump.

“It is my most absolute, fervent dream,” Valerie mused, “to become a pokemon, to be like you. I want it more than anything!”

By now the Mawile had quite lost her composure; she was blushing deeply now, her breaths growing shallow and her eyes half-lidded, and her maw opened just a bit, slightly.

Normally, Valerie would have left well alone at that point. But, lost in her own mindspace, constantly wheeling and wheeling through her own obsessions, she inadvertently stuck her fingers inside of Mawile’s second mouth. The effect was immediate—the Fairy-type jolted and then moaned, her tongue brushing tentatively against her trainer’s fingers before she gently closed it and sucked on them. And for a beautiful, blissful moment, both trainer and pokemon were content to luxuriate like that, relishing in one another’s attentions. Mawile’s quivering delight was echoed in a more subtle way in Valerie, who leaned back with a sigh as her pokemon gently licked and sucked at her fingers.

But Mawile’s own reservations jumped in the way. Valerie was her trainer; it was embarrassing to be so intimate! The small pokemon leapt up, babbling wordless excuses and looking this way and that, any way but at her trainer!

For her part, Valerie may not have achieved her dream quite yet—but she was attentive to the moods of pokemon and immediately picked up on her Mawile’s discomfort. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” she said. “Really. If I’m going to be a pokemon, we’re compatriots more than anything—and, provided you’re okay with it, it’s fine for compatriots to be close, right?”

Mawile looked to be calming down; she glanced down embarrassedly, a small smile on her face, and traced circles in the floor with her foot.