Tidal stretched out his paws, basking in the sunshine. Yes… this really was the life.

It had been a few weeks since his rescue from the temple at the paws of that Sylveon and her crew and his… repayment to them. He hoped she and the Luxio weren’t feeling too weighed down by the eggs. But though he’d had a few weeks of freedom, he still enjoyed the lush feeling of wind against his fur, the taste of the sun on his back, as if it was something he was drinking in for the first time.

Still, the financial reward he’d been forced to put on offer—and paying for the, ah, “deluxe suite” at the inn—had set him back a pretty penny, so he’d been working hard building up his funds again.

And lucky for Tidal, a two-mon team had posted a need for a temporary Water-type. Team Montaine, outdoor specialists: a Lycanroc and a Sceptile. After a few test runs with him, they’d stamped him in for the big heist—an adventure down Fern Canyon to snatch a treasure at the end.

“Damn, this’ll be a cinch,” Gabbro chuckled. The midday Lycanroc was cocky and belligerent, so much so that Tidal thought he might be a liability on delicate jobs—but he was surprisingly good in a fight and a top-tier tracker, all things considered. “The outriders here have a pretty lackadaisical rep, too.”

Nettle tapped one emerald-scaled foot against the floor, surveying the entrance to the canyon. “No need to throw caution aside,” he said in a measured voice. The Sceptile was everything his partner wasn’t—level-headed, calculating, patient. Small wonder he was team leader. “We should go over the plan once more, just to be sure.”

“Darkrai’s nightmares,” Gabbro complained, rolling his eyes, “this again?”

Nettle ignored him, pulling an age-worn parchment out of his satchel. “This map indicates that several hundred years ago, explorers left a treasure deep within a pool at the end of Fern Canyon.” He eyed Tidal. “That’s where you come in.”

The Dewott hoisted his own pack on his shoulders. “Dive down, get it, call it good. We split the take three ways, shake paws, and I go back to being a freelancer.” The pool was far too deep for a non-Water-type to feasibly return carrying a heavy treasure box.

“Still think we shoulda picked a real pokemon, fully evolved,” Gabbro complained. “Don’t get me wrong, kid, I think you’re a great mon and all, but something like a Blastoise’d be more my style.”

“‘Kid,’ huh?” Tidal responded with ease. “Don’t think I’m that much younger than you, to be honest. But hey, you wanna dive down there and get the treasure yourself, I’m all for it.”

A growl ripped out of the canine’s mouth, but Nettle stepped between them. “Alright, easy. Gabbro, take the lead and use your nose to sniff out outriders.” Outriders—the dungeon-dweller pokemon who spurned civilization—weren’t all bad, but were still the primary occupational hazard to explorers and rescuers like them. “Newbie, stick behind him. I’ll hold up the rear.”

Tidal nodded in agreement as Gabbro chuffed his annoyance. If the treasure was half what the legends surrounding the ancient team suggested, his share would be more than enough to set him back on track.

---

They were only partway through Fern Canyon when the first hiccup showed itself. Gabbro, who had his nose to the red-soiled pathway, perked up in alarm. “Uh, there’s a bunch of sudden scents all around—closin’ in fast—”

They had scarcely a few seconds more before the lush greenery rustled as shapes moved through. Immediately, Team Montaine readied themselves—Gabbro tensed, growling, as the stony collar on his neck bristled; Tidal drew a scalchop; and behind him, there came a hum of quiet power as Nettle summoned viridian Grass-type energy.

The pokemon surrounding them broke through the bush. It was a large group of outriders—Swoobat and Litleo and Fraxure and Cubone, and if they didn’t look like combat experts, there were still a lot of them. “Another group here for the treasure, huh?” said the leader, a Mawile with a fiery voice. “What do we say to that, girls?”

As the outriders cheered, the phrasing settled on Tidal. Girls? On closer examination, yes—the whole horde appeared to be female. And behind the bravado, some of them appeared to be looking at both his and Gabbro’s sheaths with certain… interest.

Well.

Though Tidal could still feel a tension emanating from Nettle behind him, Gabbro’s mood changed; the bristling stones diminished as the canine pokemon took a swaggering position. “Boy,” he said boisterously, “look at that! Nettle, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Don’t even think of proposing—”

“Our usual competition!” Gabbro interjected.

While the outriders looked at each other with a confusion that Tidal shared, Nettle’s voice was aggravation incarnate. “In front of the new guy, Gabbro? Really?”

“Why not?” Gabbro said. “Guy’s old enough to have tasted a female or two in his time.”

The outriders tittered, and the Mawile put her hands on her hips, the second mouth on the back of her head clapping its steel teeth. “Now what’s this crassness? We’re here to stop you—”

“Course you are,” Gabbro cut in, sauntering up and rubbing his fur against her side. She immediately stiffened, blushing, as the females tittered more. Their eyes were wide and they were looking at the unfolding scene with anticipation that didn’t seem unwanted. “You definitely don’t know our reputation. Team Montaine, outdoor specialists—but we’re famous for more than that, aren’t we, Nettle!”

Tidal glanced sidewise at the Sceptile, who looked mortified. “What’s Gabbro going on about?”

“We, er… well, I guess you wouldn’t know, since the info usually gets passed around by females,” the Sceptile said. “So you know how eggs are pretty rare?”

Not in my experience, Tidal thought, but he knew better than to say it out loud. Instead, he simply nodded.

“Well, we—”

“The two of us are known for pretty high success rates when it comes to giving eggs—higher than normal!” Gabbro cut in cockily, still circling the Mawile while rubbing his fur up against her. She looked very offput, with red starting to burn on her cheeks. “Makes us in-demand in some villages—though we’ve been known to have fun with outriders from time to time!” Gasps and mutters came from the assembled females, but Tidal noted that far from looking surprised, they looked eager—in fact, he was quickly coming to suspect that Gabbro was right: the outriders in question had ambushed them with a certain motivation in mind.

“An all-female group ambushing a team of three male pokemon?” Tidal noted, and some of the females looked at him guiltily. “And if I’m not mistaken, each of you shares an egg group with one of us. That can hardly be a coincidence.” Even as he said it, he could scarcely believe it. He’d just gotten out of the temple! What were the chances of getting mixed up with another horde of breed-happy outriders? “You clearly had more in mind than just keeping us from the treasure, hmm?”

The Mawile blushed deeper but didn’t deny it, and Gabbro fixed Tidal with an appreciative look. “Smarter than you look, newbie,” he said, and Tidal honestly had no clue if it was meant as a compliment or not.

“You’ll never get the treasure!” one of the females called out, and a roll of affirmative cries came from the other outriders.

At that, Gabbro rolled his eyes. “Still trying to stop us, huh? So how’s about this. You ladies really think you can take on a top-tier team? Then fight us. You win, we’ll vamoose right outta here. But we win… and we get to breed you.” By now he was thoroughly hard, and he strutted out, showing off his size to the Mawile, who couldn’t peel her eyes away. “How’s that sound?”

“A-Alright,” the Mawile said, “you caught us—so fine! Your terms are agreeable. We’ll fight to protect our canyon as best we can, and if we cannot overcome you… then you’re worthy of giving us eggs. Though,” she smirked, “regardless, don’t expect to walk out of here with treasure. Better teams than you have failed. Shall we begin?”

“No time like the present,” Gabbro agreed and then immediately pounced her. The Mawile fell back with a squeal and the two of them tumbled over the dirt, trading blows; the other outriders scattered out of their way. The Mawile wasn’t a bad combatant and had type matchups on her side, but in the end, she was left pinned and helpless underneath Gabbro’s paws, blushing and panting as she stared wide-eyed at the canine’s formidable red cock.

“Hey Nettle!” Gabbro called out, not bothering to look at his teammate. “Usual wager? A thousand coins to the victor?”

“You’re awfully eager to get started for someone who usually loses,” the Sceptile grumbled. He kept a wary eye on the treeline; the outriders who weren’t watching Gabbro and the Mawile were forming a loose ring around him and Tidal, and his focus was doubtless dampened by the fact that he was starting to show arousal as well.

“What about you, new guy?” Gabbro asked, voiced cheery. He immediately sank into the pinned Fairy-type without waiting for an answer. The Mawile’s eyes widened, her mouth lapsing as a wordless moan escaped her; she arched her back as she was taken. Gabbro’s tongue lolled and he panted appreciatively. “Fuuuuuuuuuck, that’s good,” he said. “Breeding smaller pokemon always feels so perfectly tight.”

As he continued humping away at the moaning outrider, Tidal eyed Nettle. By now the reptile’s hemipenes were fully poking out; Tidal could sympathize. The sound and scent of Gabbro happily rutting the bliss-faced Mawile was quickly working him up, and his own cock was approaching full mast. “What’s this competition?” Tidal asked.

Nettle coughed lightly. “Sometimes when we run into some eager females, we, er, have a competition to see who can… breed the most.”

They have a reputation for fertility. “So whoever knocks up the most?”

The Sceptile nodded. “Exactly.”

Tidal fought to corral a smile. Well then.

“I’d like to participate!” he said, casting a youthful lilt to his voice—play up the ‘in-over-his-head-newcomer’ idea that Gabbro, at least, had clearly painted him with. “And why not make the take two thousand each?”

Gabbro slammed home, his knot spreading the Mawile and making her squeal as he pumped her full of seed. “Damn, new guy!” he said, his voice short between grunts as he came. “Confident, huh? Well, your loss!” He slid out of the moaning pokemon and trotted over to his compatriots, still sporting a thick erection. He openly eyed his competition, and Tidal couldn’t help but do the same.

“Enjoying your first look at a real breeder, kid?” Gabbro boasted, lifting a leg to give his audience a better view. “The biggest knot this side of Thorn Mountain, girth that’s never left a female unsatisfied—” The Mawile, still seeping seed, moaned as if to punctuate his point, “—and most important, a big, heavy pair of—”

Tidal, feeling impish, innocently shifted the satchel of adventuring tools he’d brought along. With it out of the way, his own loins could be better seen—including his own absolutely massive pair of balls.

A bigger pair, in fact, than Gabbro’s.

Nettle’s eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly, and the Lycanroc, after stumbling verbally for a second, admirably salvaged the boast: “—uh, an incredible reputation as a top-notch breeder! I’m a stud famous for miles!” His smile seemed to become more confident as he smirked back at the Mawile. “It won’t even be a close match.”

“Funny,” Nettle said, crossing his arms. He had a small, quiet smile of his own. “You’d think that if size was everything, my wallet wouldn’t be heavier than yours…”

Gabbro chuffed a bit and grumbled a weak retort. Tidal’s attention turned to the Sceptile. Nettle was not nearly so gauche and boastful as his teammate, but Tidal could tell the Sceptile was proud in his own quiet way, and he was letting his equipment do the talking for him. His two hemis were both impressive, if not quite as girthy as Gabbro’s, and thin pre glistened at the tip of one of them. Tidal expected they would be more than enough to satisfy any lover—and, if he had to be honest, Tidal wouldn’t mind finding out firsthand. The Sceptile seemed to catch his admiration from the corner of his eye; his expression was hard to read, but he didn’t seem averse or even that surprised.

“So, newbie,” Gabbro said, turning his attention to Tidal. His pride was still clearly stung from Nettle’s taunt. “You were dumb enough to up the ante from this contest. I’d expect you to at least have something to offer, but that thing’s downright puny!”

Tidal just smiled in response, hefting his cock in one paw as much for the benefit of the onlooking outriders as for Gabbro. Anyone could see it was quite large for his species. “You’re right, Gabbro,” he said with questionable sincerity, “how could a little Dewott like me hope to compare? I know my knot isn’t as big…” He squeezed his sheath tantalizingly, as if daring Gabbro to stick around once his knot unveiled itself. “I guess my one advantage is that every Water-type seeding is just as plentiful as the last. I do hear that Rock-types can, uh, ‘run dry’ pretty quickly?”

Gabbro snorted, all confidence once more. “That old story again? Please. You’ll see just how ‘dry’ I run—or the females will, at any rate!” He returned his attention to the outriders ringing them, a cocky grin on his muzzle. “Well, who else wants an egg? Hmm?” A dancing mote of fire soared out and was met by a call of earth; he barked happily at a challenging Ninetales. “Alright then! Oh, and by the way boys… that puts me ahead of both of you.” He stalked off to chase her, leaving Tidal and Nettle behind.

Mere seconds later a Noivern dove out of the trees, blasting a sonic surge at Tidal and Nettle. As they scattered, Nettle grappled the dragon out of the air, slamming her down into the ground—

And she immediately opened her legs, raising one wing to her head melodramatically. “Oh, alas!” she cried. “I have been overcome. It seems I have no choice to but to accept this fate!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Nettle grumbled before bending over her. The dragon-bat eagerly swept her tail around his leg as he lined his twin cocks up with her holes.

As most of the other outriders gathered eagerly around the two of them, Tidal rose and crept off into the greenery. He had a plan of his own.

A sudden aroma, floral and heady, filled the air, and a pugnacious-looking Chikorita hopped out in the path in front of him. “Trying to run away, eh?” she said. “You’ll have to face me first!”

“If you want kids, you’ll probably want to try the Sceptile,” Tidal said, hooking a paw over his shoulder. “Lose track of your egg groups?”

The little Grass-type blushed and stammered out an excuse before shuffling past him. As she went, Tidal called after her: “Hey, there a shop around here?”

She stopped dead. “A—a what?”

“A shop. You know.” He pulled out two coins and rubbed them together, metal clinking on metal. “A place where you can buy things?”

“Uh… yeah.” She pointed her big leaf a little further into the fern-draped canyon. “That way.”

He tossed one of the coins at her; she caught it in her mouth. “Thanks.”

The Chikorita eyed him before turning her attention to Nettle. The Grass-type was stuffing the Noivern’s hole with both his cocks and she was writhing delightedly underneath him. Already a Salazzle had emerged and was coiling sinuously against his back, the other outrider females clamoring for attention too.

Tidal shook his head with a smile. Let them compete. He had a goal in mind.

The shop was as he had expected—a stall set up by a Kecleon. The Kecleon Clan occupied a weird grey zone between outriders and town pokemon; they set up shops just about anywhere, but kept their own code of conduct. Neither towns nor dungeons seemed to mind much, given the clan’s mercantile prowess and their noted heavy-handedness towards transgressors.

The shopkeep was a Kecleon about Tidal’s own age. She seemed discomfited and preoccupied up until she saw him—good. That increased the chances of his gambit working. When he did stroll up, she was visibly shocked and intrigued. He was pretty sure he knew why she had seemed so worked up—and why her eyes were drawn inexorably down to the erection he still sported between his legs.

“Uh… w-welcome!” she exclaimed.

He eyed a nearby berry; picking it up, he chomped into it, the sweet juice trickling down onto his whiskers. “Welcome,” he replied casually between bites, licking the juice from his whiskers with his dexterous tongue, never breaking eye contact with the shopkeep.

The lizard pokemon stared at him, open-mouthed at his audacity—and perhaps, at something else. “We uh… usually charge customers before they eat the merchandise,” she said. “It’ll be, uh… seven coins.”

“That so?” he replied breezily, finishing up the treat. “Good to know.” Then, hoisting his pack, he strolled away—not a single coin in sight.

The shopkeep’s shocked voice floated after him. “Hey!” she said. He kept walking. “Hey! You still need to pay!” Tidal just moved along.

With a sound like muted firecrackers, the shopkeeper immediately materialized—as did an assortment of clan members. The horde of Kecleon surrounding him had to number well over a dozen.

Tidal’s grin just widened. Other than two token males, most were female. Perfect.

“No one gets away without paying,” the shopkeep said, and the rest of her clan murmured in furious agreement. “Coins, now.”

Tidal set down his satchel and raised his paws placatingly. “Well shoot, I just don’t seem to have coins on me! But I’m sure that enterprising souls like yourselves can come up with… alternative payment?”

A breath of anticipation settled on the glade near the shop; you could have heard a Snom hiccup. The shopkeeper was staring unashamedly at Tidal’s cock now, and so were most of her compatriots.

“…and here I thought I’d have to miss out on all the fun,” she breathed. “Well then! I suppose you’d better get started paying us back.”

“With interest!” another Kecleon yelled.

Tidal just grinned.

---

The Kecleon quivered, riding Tidal’s lap, swirling his red cock inside of her. She was tight and pleasant, and as she squeezed down around him, the Dewott gasped from delight as a shivering thrill raced through his loins. He had lost track of how many this was now… he had to be up to double digits.

She keened as his knot swelled up inside of her, tying them together, and then sagged against him, voice ragged, as he pumped her full of seed. Even as he continued jetting into her, Tidal bounced her up and down on his lap, making her groan and shudder through the orgasm.

“I really hope this takes,” she murmured against him, her eyes half-lidded as she clenched around him with an orgasm of her own. “I—ahhh—I’ve been trying for so long…”

“You will,” he assured. She didn’t respond and he knew she thought it was bravado. Most females who didn’t know his reputation did. At first.

Truth was, he’d never failed at breeding a female.

But despite his success with the ladies, the Water-type didn’t mind swinging the other way. As he waited for his knot to deflate enough to pop out of her and breed another one, he gestured at one of the few males ringing the group. The Kecleon sprang forward with bashful anticipation, shyly avoiding Tidal’s eyes despite his slender hemipenes. Was this his first time with another male? Or just his first time in general? Either way, Tidal was going to make it something to enjoy.

He gestured to his paws while adjusting his position, the female Kecleon shifting in his lap; the feeling of her walls stroking him left Tidal’s breath shallow and the female quivering. The male shyly pressed his cocks against Tidal’s paws and the Dewott did the rest.

Wrapping his lower paws around one of the slender hemipenes, the Dewott shimmied them back and forth, feeling the reptile’s dick grow satisfyingly hard from the movement. The Kecleon’s voice hitched and he pressed his hips further in, giving Tidal more to work with.

As Tidal continued the pawjob, the male met his eyes and then, seemingly acting on impulse, opened his mouth. His long, sinuous tongue snaked out, stroking the Dewott’s thigh and making him gasp before winding affectionately around his torso. The tongue pressed up to his mouth and Tidal took it in, sucking and licking it, leaving both males moaning as he kept up his tempo with the pawjob.

Eventually his knot deflated to the point where the female was able to slip off of him, and with the crook of a finger, he beckoned another. She slid up to him, wriggling down and leaving Tidal moaning around the tongue in his mouth from her tightness. As she rode him up and down, he picked up his pace with his paws, until—

The male Kecleon grunted, shuddering, as his hemipenes sprayed sticky cum all over Tidal’s paws and legs. The tongue in the Dewott’s mouth tensed before sliding out, the Dewott giving the tip one last farewell suck. Leaning back with a groan, Tidal felt himself tensing closer and closer to orgasm. He dimly wondered how Gabbro and Nettle were faring—with a smirk, he almost felt bad for pushing for extra coins.

Almost.

---

The outrider camp was a series of small wooden lean-tos not far from the pool where the treasure was said to lie. They had a medic of their own; most communities, outrider or town, did once they reached a certain size. The Indeedee moved from female to female, his horns glowing violet as he used his psychic powers to check whether any of the females had been impregnated. At Team Montaine’s request, they’d separated into groups based on whom they’d been bred by. Nettle and Gabbro had given Tidal a funny look when none of the outrider pokemon indicated they’d had a go with him.

“Pushing for double payouts and didn’t even bed one female?” Gabbro taunted, his lupine tail swishing back and forth. “Rough going, buddy.”

Tidal just smiled.

The Indeedee surveyed the dozen or so females who’d had a go with Gabbro and confirmed that eight of them were pregnant, one of them the blushing Mawile.

The Lycanroc beat a paw against the dirt in triumph. “The most I’ve ever had! Nettle, I might have just clinched it!”

“Don’t be so sure,” the Sceptile said, folding his arms—but he looked uncertain. Nettle’s group of females was slightly smaller, at ten, and the Indeedee indicated that six of them could expect eggs.

Team Montaine’s leader deflated as Gabbro crooned his victory. “Fuck yeah! Two thousand each from you will leave me enough to have a lot of fun when we get back to town! No one can beat my virility!”

The Mawile, his first partner, coughed, smiling. “Course, that Oval Charm you have would be a big help,” she said dulcetly.

Gabbro’s face fell as Nettle looked back and forth between the two of them, his face flinty. “What. Was. That?” he said.

“Yeah,” the Mawile said with faux innocence, “when we were having fun, I noticed it wrapped around one of his throat spikes, almost hidden by his fur. Not that I minded, since they boost fertility and I wanted an egg, but… the fact that it was hidden really seemed deliberate…”

As Gabbro cussed her out for being a backstabber, Nettle stalked over to his teammate and fished out the charm in question. “Well,” he said, “I think this is a disqualifier.” Gabbro started to protest but he was cut off by an arch look from Nettle. “Guess that makes me the winner.”

“But what about me?” Tidal asked cheerily.

“What about you?” Gabbro snapped, looking sullen. “You didn’t even bed a single female!”

“I won’t say that…” Tidal said, nodding at the forest. Female members of the Kecleon Clan were melting out of the trees, looking both bashful and eager. The Indeedee shrugged, his horns glowing again as he swept them with his powers.

The Psychic-type’s face grew astonished. “Why this is—I don’t—”

“What is it?” the Mawile asked, crossing her arms.

The Indeedee looked at Tidal with an appraising glance. “Every single female here is carrying. Not a one is without! That’s… sixteen Kecleon in total!”

A stunned silence fell over the whole community before the Kecleon began cheering, some of the females audibly celebrating their good fortune and talking about how this would raise their standing in the clan. Many eyes fell on Tidal and he couldn’t help by wryly note that if he wasn’t careful, his rep as a breeder would outpace his freelance work—which, as the incident in the temple showed, could be a double-edged sword.

At the moment, though, it seemed harmless enough.

“Well, that was fun!” he said, clapping his paws together and enjoying the look on Gabbro and Nettle’s faces. “Now I think we have a treasure to claim?”

The outriders immediately set about snickering, barely trying to hide it, and with a predatory grin, the Mawile led them to the pool. It was deep—so deep it almost looked black. Setting his satchel aside, Tidal dove in.

The water was fresh and crisp, and like most pokemon of his type, simply being in it energized him immensely. He dove deeper and deeper; in the gloomy depths below, he could make out a shape that was assuredly the treasure of old.

The second hiccup of the day was when he got close enough to make it out.

It was a chest, alright, one filled with what looked to be heaps of coin. But the rub—centuries in the water had rusted both box and contents over completely. Not a single bit was salvageable. He stared at it for a few moments before shaking his head and kicking upwards.

When his head broke the water, the Mawile was staring at him gleefully. “Well?” she asked with toxic sweetness. “Did you find the treasure?”

When Tidal explained what was below, the outriders erupted in jeering laughter, falling over themselves with mirth; Gabbro and Nettle, both crestfallen, tried to avoid their gazes, but the Mawile managed to lock eyes with her canine paramour. “Told you, didn’t I?” she crooned. “Any team coming here looking for treasure always walks out disappointed!”

As the three males slowly made their way back through Fern Canyon, the cacophonous laughter of the outriders faded behind them.

“Mew’s tits,” growled Gabbro, summoning a rock and crumbling it to dust in one motion as a show of anger, “all that effort and we walked out empty-pawed.”

Tidal managed to catch the laugh in his throat. “Oh… not all of us.” He held out his satchel, beaming. “What was the bet again? Two thousand each, right?”