“C’mon, boy, behave!”

Rourke, fresh from a tour of the Unova region, watched with frustration as his Leafeon, Fir, disobeyed his instructions entirely. The male Eeveelution was panting, his eyes half-lidded, and released a series of soft, needy barks. Staggering over to the chain-link fence that encircled the training yard, he rubbed against it, whining.

Drumming his fingers against his thighs, Rourke sighed. This was totally unlike Fir, who was by far the most reliable of his battling team. He needed the Leafeon to be in top battling shape for an upcoming battle tournament. Without him, his whole team would fall apart!

“Fir,” he called, voice friendly but firm. The Leafeon ignored him, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Fir. Fir!” Still no reaction.

Before Rourke had any idea what to do further, something caught Fir’s attention. On the other side of the fence, trotting along with her trainer, was a snowy white Alolan Vulpix. The disinterested Leafeon suddenly became very interested indeed, jumping up against the fence and barking several times to try and get the other pokemon’s attention. The trainer looked over at him and then gasped, her face reddening, before recalling the Vulpix and darting away. With the female absent, Fir once again began whining.

Frowning, Rourke approached Fir. What had made the lady so—

Oh. Now that he was closer, he could see what had escaped him before: Fir’s cock was juuuuuuust beginning to peek out of his sheath. When fully erect, the canine’s cock was big and pink, which stood out vividly against his soft, spring green fur. At full mast, it was wide and thick and boasted a very noticeable knot. Rourke had taken him breeding a few times, and without fail, the female who took the knot always ended up glaze-eyed as he rutted them full of his eggs.

“Damn,” muttered Rourke. “I don’t have time to register you to go breed to get your energy out!” The tournament was in a few days, and he was banking on the winnings! It especially didn’t make sense since Fir’s breeding cycle was very well-documented, and the Leafeon shouldn’t have been anywhere near as horny as he was…

He decided to call an expert. His friend and roommate, Devin, was the brains of their two-person operation. While Rourke was the expert battler and team-raiser, Devin constructed the strategies and scoped out the opponents. With his knowledge and Rourke’s battling prowess, the two of them had swept through a number of local tournaments, splitting the winnings evenly.

On hearing Fir’s condition, Devin sighed, the sound coming across as a mild crush of static over the line. “Oh, I know what’s wrong with him. He’s got a strain of the pokerus.”

“Doesn’t that usually help them grow faster?”

“Sometimes,” Devin said, his words coming out fast. “But a rare strain can kick male pokemon—particularly those in the Field Egg Group, like Eeveelutions—into mating overdrive. Even increases cum production.” Rourke coughed a bit, always slightly surprised at how easily Devin discussed such matters. “He’ll have to breed for days before he’s satisfied,” his roommate continued, “and until he is, he’ll disobey orders. He might even grow aggressive in a day or two. Pity the female who has to put up with his attentions for the next little bit!” After promising to look more at Fir when he returned that evening, Devin hung up.

Rourke cursed. This was the last thing he needed. A rare strain? Breeding for whole days to get it out? There was no way he could afford that! He had to win the tournament!

Recalling his Leafeon, Rourke wandered back to his apartment, kicking errantly at litter on the street and small pebbles that barred his way. He took the long way home, winding down alleys and side streets. The sheer frustration at his situation was almost too overwhelming…

Finally, after over an hour of wandering, he looked up, realizing he had absolutely no idea where he was. It was some dingy side street he’d never been on before. He wasn’t afraid—he was a big guy, and he had his team with him, but it was still someplace unusual.

Blinking, he noticed a small shop ahead—“Unique pokemon cures”, the sign read. While he knew that the only way to stop the pokerus was to ride it out, he was willing to try just about anything.

The interior of the store smelled like spices and the ocean tide. Someone had lit a Sea Incense, he realized, the scent wafting over him. He breathed in and out, enjoying the smell while idly grasping Fir’s ball in his pocket.

Browsing the store shelves, he saw a number of unique items and knick-knacks—a collar doused with Sweet Scent, ‘to make your pokemon as enticing as she can be,’ a vitamin that claimed to boost egg production, and even some sort of crystal from Sinnoh that claimed to de-evolve a Lucario into a Riolu with the power of Aura.

De-evolve… if Fir became an Eevee again, would that get rid of the problem? He lived in Rustboro City, so the Petalburg Woods—and thus, the Moss Stone—was only an hour or so by walking.

Finding the proprietor, he asked if that was the case. Smiling, the old man led him to a small rack of spray bottles. “Eevee are so in-demand,” the old man said, “and so many trainers accidentally level it at night instead of the day, for instance, and want a different Eeveelution. Here.” He took the bottle off the rack and gingerly held it to Rourke. “A mix of hormones, herbs, and special chemicals developed by Silph in Kanto. It’ll make an Eevee of your pokemon, no problem, and even make them more docile and easier to manage. Just be careful, yeah?”

“Mhmmm,” Rourke said absently, checking it over. The bottle was tiny, barely enough for one spray, and was pretty pricey. But not getting those tournament winnings would be even pricier. “I’ll take it.”

---

Back in his apartment, Rourke breathed in and out again. Devin would be home in half an hour or so, but he didn’t want to wait. The sooner he could fix this problem, the better.

Releasing Fir from his ball, Rourke could see the problem needed immediate addressing. The Leafeon was even more worked up than usual, pacing across the floors—his claws leaving a small tap-tap-tap sound against the hardwood—while alternately panting and emitting a low yowl. He had to be so aroused it was almost painful, and a tiny preview of his cock, vivid and pink, poked out of his sheath. Rourke swore he could see the Eeveelution actually blushing slightly behind his pale fur.

“Okay, boy,” Rourke said, turning the small spray bottle over in his hands. Now that he was getting ready to do it, he was beginning to have reservations. “This should really, erm… help you get it out of your system.” Here was hoping that the de-evolution, coupled with the promise to make the resulting Eevee ‘docile,’ would do the job…

With a plaintive growl, Fir dashed towards the door, pining to be let outside and hunt down mates to breed. “Get back here,” Rourke commanded. Fir, predictably, didn’t heed the order. Muttering, Rourke stood to retrieve him—and the spray bottle tumbled loosely from his lap.

Desperate not to waste the money he spent on it by letting it shatter against the floor, Rourke grabbed at it with a cry. The bottle fumbled over and over in his hands, but he finally got a good grip on the thing.

Unfortunately, it was right on the nozzle—and he ended up spraying himself full in the face.

Sputtering, Rourke fell over on himself. The taste of the stuff was everywhere! He almost couldn’t get it out. His eyes burned…

Finally, after a few minutes of swatting at his face, the sensation finally went away. He finally was able to rest. The bottle was gone, and Fir was nowhere to be found, probably scampered off at the unexpected behavior from his trainer. It was all frustrating…

Or was it? Rourke found himself not particularly caring about what had occurred. In fact, everything was going to be alright…

His arm itched and he scratched it idly, his fingernails running over his skin and fur…

Wait. His fur?

Quickly shucking off his shirt, Rourke saw that light, tawny fur was spreading over his arms. The fur was growing in rather quickly, all things considered, and spreading down towards his hands. As the fur met his palms, there was a slight tingling sensation, as rough pads grew on his palms and fingertips, and his fingers began rearranging their shape. None of it hurt—in fact, the tingling sensation was actually quite enjoyable, though the fur itself itched mildly when it grew in—but it was clear: his hands were morphing into paws. Somehow, he felt as though he ought to be quite alarmed at this development, but it was difficult to find the motivation.

Guided by some primal urge, Rourke threw off the rest of his clothes and positioned himself on hands and knees, the better to ease his coming transformation. The choice was barely even consciously made; it came to him as easily as blinking.

As his limbs shortened, and his whole body shrunk—the furniture in his apartment growing around him—somewhere in the back of his mind he finally put two and two together. Tawny fur. Paws. A serene tranquility that washed over him.

The spray had pledged to transform its recipient into a docile Eevee, after all. And there had been no promise that it worked exclusively on pokemon.

The fur was to his shoulders now. There was no mirror, but Rourke could feel the spray taking effect elsewhere, too. Similar brown fluff was spreading along his legs, which were shifting into digitigrade form, the ankles riding high. He felt the first prodding of a tail at the base of his spine, and a tugging sensation at his ears and nose told him that they were elongating into the mixed canine-vulpine form characteristic of Eeveelutions.

On his chest, his nipples stiffened until they stood out from his chest, firm and sensitive. Below, along his lower chest and stomach, more beads of pink were growing. He watched with fascination as new nipples grew in, row by row, further marking his new body.

His tail, full and fluffy, swept from side to side. He was well under half his original size, now, the furniture dwarfing him and even his old clothes seeming to him like quilts. The fur spread over his torso, covering his new rows of nipples, and began moving to his face, which was now almost fully Eevee-shaped. As Rourke finally continued shrinking, the last mark of an Eevee—a small ruff of white at his throat—grew in, fully confirmed his transformation.

Rourke had no idea how long it had lasted. Five minutes, perhaps? A few more, a few less? The new Eevee lifted his paws experimentally, swished his tail around, felt the new fangs in his mouth with his rough-textured tongue. He tried to say something, but predictably, the sound just came out as chuffs and barks.

The movements of his new body came naturally after a few tries, like riding a bicycle for the first time after a long while. Perhaps it was the spray-induced docility influencing him, but it really seemed not too bad.

One of his new long ears twitched—all his senses were so sharp now! And he turned to find Fir poking his head out of the hallway, eying him. Good. Perhaps Fir could help keep him company until Devin got home and sorted out this mess…

But when Fir entered the room, the Leafeon stalked right for him. The heavy smell of the Grass-type’s arousal filled the air, and his gaze was fixed directly on Rourke. The Eevee backed away slowly, growling to try and dissuade his pokemon. What was going on? Even under the thrall of the pokerus, Fir should know better.

Stalking around to the side, Rourke caught a glimpse of Fir’s sheath. The sight of the Grass-type’s member just poking out of the front, and the smell of his need, made an unexpected heat wash over Rourke. His heartbeat picked up, his teats stiffened, and even his pussy began slicking up…

Wait. His what?

Sprawling onto the floor, leg lifted, Rourke got a good look for the first time. There it was—a moist, delicate, perfectly situated virgin Eevee slit. The spray, it seemed, had a certain idea in mind when it claimed to make pokemon ‘docile.’

An appreciative growl came from behind her, and Rourke realized too late that she was showing off her pussy to the very interested Fir. Scrambling up, she backed away even further as the Leafeon advanced on her faster and faster. Behind the spray-induced docility, there was, for the first time, the realization that she might need to be worried about something…

Giving into her desire to escape, she turned—and Fir pounced. One moment her back was to him and she was ready to bolt down to her room, and the next the bigger pokemon’s superior weight was on her, his voice rumbling in her ear. She squirmed and he nipped at one of her long ears—it barely hurt, but it was a sufficient reminder of who, exactly, was in charge. Two of his long vines emerged, one tying Rourke’s front paws together, the other spreading her back legs. Quivering, Rourke realized she had no way of stopping what was about to happen.

Always eager to jump right into the fun stuff, Fir’s patience had been even further eroded by the new strain of pokerus, and moments after spreading his new mate’s back legs, he slammed into her.

Like most canine pokemon, Fir wasn’t hard right away, and thus the initial mounting didn’t seem too bad. Rourke squirmed as Fir’s sheath squashed against her pussy, but if this was as bad as things would be, then perhaps she had nothing to worry about.

But there was, of course, more to it than that. After a few minutes of passionate humping, Fir’s cock began to unsheath. The thickness pushed into her, and where she had before felt almost vacant, his insistent fucking—coupled with the swiftly growing cock—quickly filled her.

Rourke wailed at the sudden fullness, Fir’s cock spreading her open. The Leafeon held there, the tip of his penis resting just inside of his former trainer’s walls, and rumbled appreciatively at the release of finally getting to breed, before he began fucking his new Eevee with even more ferocity.

Whining, Rourke could do nothing but squirm and writhe beneath Fir’s weight and his bindings. The Leafeon was fucking her like the beast he was, his cock ramming in an out of her again, and again, and again, and before long Rourke was barely even able to think. She simply hung there, huddled against the ground, her eyes glassy and her tongue lolling out, as her pokemon—her former pokemon—bred her. She’d seen him go at females before, but never with the single-minded intensity as he did now.

Every thrust of Fir’s cock took the same pleasurable sensation and made it even fiercer, until Rourke was lost in a crescendo of ecstasy, the feeling of the Leafeon’s cock quickly becoming all she could think about. Anytime an errant thought filled her head—how to get back to human, how to escape Fir, whether Devin would return soon—was soon after fucked out of her.

After a few minutes, the horny Leafeon grunted and slammed his cock as hard as he could. Rourke’s eyes fluttered and her consciousness wavered as his cock, fully inside her, ballooned into a knot at its base, forcibly tying them together. There was a sound filling the room—she was dimly aware that it was her own voice, releasing a long, singular moan at the sensation. It hurt, and yet it felt so divine…

There was only a moment’s warning before he came. His knot swelled even more, his penis pulsed, and then the cum started flooding in. Rourke’s vision staticed as Leafeon’s seed poured into her, flooding her pussy and going even deeper into her womb. Within moments, she already felt newly full.

But it kept coming. Panting, Rourke glanced down at her own tummy, which was bulging out from all the cum. She whined. What was going on? Fir didn’t usually cum for this long… was this the pokerus? What was it that Devin had said…

As more cum filled her and her stomach ballooned out, it began sloshing as she writhed underneath him. She wriggled, trying to take herself off of Fir’s knot, but the same thing that kept her plugged up and prevented the seed from escaping tied them together intimately. When she kept wriggling, Fir growled and put his front paw on the back of her head, pressing her against the floor. The message was clear—he didn’t like impetuousness in his mates.

After Fir finally stopped coming, he held there for a minute, keeping his cock in. Rourke still panted from the sensation of being stretched so much from all his cum.

Before long, the door creaked open. Devin walked in and stopped at the sight. Rourke whined, desperate for release. Devin had to figure it out. He had to!

Devin looked from the pile of Rourke’s clothes to the two coupling pokemon and then sighed. “Slob didn’t even put his clothes away after he changed.” Picking up the clothes and chucking them into Rourke’s room, he tossed the spray bottle into the trash without even looking at it. He then wandered through the apartment, calling Rourke’s name. At each call, Rourke responded with a high bark. Devin had to figure it out after that, right?

Devin came back and sat on the couch, eying the coupling pokemon. “So he decided to bite the bullet and get a mate for you after all, huh?” he asked Fir. The Leafeon barked smugly. Reaching down, Devin scratched underneath Rourke’s mane. “And what’s your name?” She could only whine in response. “Well, don’t know where he is, but c’mon. Let’s get you two to the bathtub so you don’t make a mess when you get unstuck.”

---

That evening, Rourke wandered onto the cushion Devin had set out for her in a daze. After Fir’s knot had popped free, all of his cum had flowed from her, and she’d managed to walk out of the bathroom on shaky, wobbly legs, still woozy from the thorough breeding she’d just received.

But a pokerus-induced mating heat was nothing to sneeze at, and Fir had mounted her again after dinner, and one more time just before bed. Each time he’d flooded her with cum, and each time Devin had marched them into the bathroom, her womb full and her tunnel aching, when it was time to unstick.

She laid down on her cushion, hoping that this was all perhaps just a strange dream and she’d wake up, ready for the tournament. Her mind reeled from what had happened, her pussy was sore from all the fucking, and there was a strange heaviness to her, even after all of Fir’s cum had left, that she just couldn’t place.

The next morning, when she woke, she was still an Eevee. And the heaviness was back—and more prevalent than ever before.

She was pregnant.

She rubbed one paw over her swollen belly, wincing as it brushed past her sensitive row of teats, her eyes wide in disbelief. Everything that had happened until now had already been hard to believe, but this? She was going to give birth to pokemon? To bear the children of her own Leafeon?

Rolling over to stand, she gasped as she felt the eggs tumble inside her womb and grind against each other. Eggs, plural… oh. So she was fertile, too.

The eggs were so heavy, and her belly so large, that her legs quivered just trying to stand—and after a few mere steps, she had collapsed, panting. Within a few minutes, Fir had trotted up, nosing at her belly with delight and licking at her sensitive teats. She whined under his ministrations, but the Leafeon seemed pleased that his new mate was going to give him children.

But he was still in the throes of pokerus, and before long, his attentions became more intimate. When Devin walked in, he found Fir energetically rutting his gravid mate.

“Well now,” Devin said, rubbing his hand along Rourke’s swollen tummy, “you’re quite fecund, aren’t you?” Rourke whined and stared at him, trying to make him get it, but it was to no use.

Throughout the day Rourke’s belly grew even larger, and around lunchtime, she was completely immobile—and ready for birthing.

The eggs came out hard, with a lot of effort. Devin was there, telling the little pokemon to push as hard as she could, and Fir looked excited to see his new eggs. When the first came out Rourke wanted to pass out, but Devin was insistent that she get out the others, and before long, her voice dragging with every strained push, there were three new Eevee eggs there.

“Whew,” Devin whistled, weighing them in his hands, “these are big considering how small you are. And three? That’s impressive.” She could see his eyes doing calculations. “Rourke still isn’t back from wherever he went, so I guess the tournament’s a bust, but I wonder if we couldn’t patch the funds some other way…”

Rourke attempted to whine in protest, but passed out halfway through.

And thus it went. Weeks passed, and Rourke’s life became a cycle of being mounted by Fir, of being bred, of staggering about with a used pussy until her belly started to swell; of giving birth a day or so later to multiple sets of big and healthy eggs which Devin sold to prospective trainers or breeders, and of the cycle beginning anew. By the time a little over a month had passed, she had given up trying to count how many eggs she’d lain.

She’d given up, too, any hope of getting back to normal. Devin had no incentive to try and find out more about the new little Eevee, whose eggmaking had proven more lucrative than their tournament wins. The few times she’s almost come close to communicating with him—trying to type out a message on a keyboard, or dragging her tail in the sand for words—Fir had put a stop to that, mounting her right then and there. Before long, she’d stopped trying. He’d fucked the ambitions out of her. She had resigned herself to her new life of breeding.

And one night, her pussy feeling delectably raw from a particularly intense session from Fir earlier that day, her tummy already swelling with new life, she realized: she didn’t mind it after all. Maybe it was the docility of the spray still talking, maybe it was that after her first sessions, both the breedings and the birthings were more pleasurable for her, or maybe that she didn’t have to stress over finances anymore, but—she didn’t mind.

No, more than that. She enjoyed it. She purred at the thought, rubbing her paw over her pregnant tummy. She enjoyed being her Leafeon’s new mate.