Tidal had heard of the village of Truevale, but never seen it before—until today. It was a decent little town, all things considered—located at the confluence of a decently-traveled pathway and a river, it was a natural place to congregate. Truevale was not near any especially dangerous dungeons, and the nearest tribe of outriders was said to get along well with them. Maybe that was why the village had a larger collection of young pokemon than usual.

The Dewott only shook his head at that idea. No, he wasn’t quite so foolish as to believe that.

Falling in alongside him were the two members of Team Montaine: Gabbro the Lycanroc and the team leader, Nettle the Sceptile. The two of them were from Truevale, as it so happened, and were adventurers famed for both their competence and their virility. Small wonder that their hometown had large numbers of young. Or that the two of them frequently find jobs taking them far away from it, he added mentally.

Of course, the two of them had met their match in a breeding competition some months back; Tidal, himself utterly competent in the strength of his seed, had blown them both out of the metaphorical water. Gabbro had needed some time to blow off steam, while Nettle had partnered with Tidal for a bit. The three of them had done a few more missions together after Gabbro’s return, and then came the challenge:

“Both of us against you,” Gabbro had said, eyes fierce. Tidal had to mentally applaud the lupine pokemon for tacitly admitted just how outclassed he was when it came to virility. “When we visit Truevale after being away for months at a time, most of the local females celebrate with us. Come along for the celebration this time around. If—no, when we beat you,” Gabbro said, glancing at his teammate for support, “then you’ll come with us to the Guildsmeet as our personal attendant… perhaps we’ll put you to use keeping everything cold with those Ice-type moves of yours.”

For an up-and-coming freelancer like Tidal, those sort of meet-ups were everything. To be at the beck and call of Team Montaine would put a huge dent in his reputation, especially considering the Guildmaster of the Amber Guild (a vaunted and influential pokemon with whom Tidal had once shared an intimate moment) would be there. Stakes were high.

“There’s a lot riding on that,” he’d responded. “So what do I get if I win?”

“Name your prize,” the Lycanroc had told him, pawing the ground eagerly. “I’m ready.” At that, Tidal had smirked and named his prize, and Gabbro’s ears had blushed—but then, with a glance at his partner for support, he’d nodded. The wager was made.

And now it was time to get down to breeding.

Nettle had sent a courier ahead to the town informing them of the new addition for their upcoming ‘celebration,’ and they were met by a gaggle of excitable pokemon in the square, all females of breeding age. One of them, a long-lashed Sneasel, strode up to circle Tidal with a hungry look to her eye, raising her claw to her mouth. “My, my,” she said. “So this is him? He looks… nice.” Her voice trickled like a half-melted snowflake. “Y’know, your reputation proceeds you… the local branch of Kecleon were all abuzz about someone who made a big splash in their gene pool.”

Tidal’s whiskers twitched in pride, though part of him wondered if breeding the Kecleon had been a mistake. While having his reputation grow amongst the towns was probably harmless, his sojourn in the temple showed that outriders were another story entirely. Even he couldn’t take on a whole community! Still, that was a worry for another day.

“Let us see,” the Sneasel said, her fur sleek in the sunlight, “what you’re packing there.” She reached down and with incredible delicateness, cupped his sack. Tidal gasped, feeling a blush stampeding onto his cheeks; his balls were massive, especially for his size, and exquisitely tender. It didn’t take long for his appreciation to start showing itself as his cock unsheathed.

Purring with interest, the Sneasel bent her face closer—and she wasn’t the only one. Skitty, Meowstic, Ekans… a veritable smorgasbord of eager females crowded around him, none of them content to just be window shoppers. The Sneasel squeezed him again and Tidal grunted as his cock stiffened even more, the females squealing with anticipation at its girth.

“C’mon,” Gabbro said, “he’s not the only one here!” Some of them, to their credit, gave him a glance—probably a hard choice, he didn’t have the appeal of novelty that Tidal did. But Truevale’s females parted, albeit reluctantly, as Nettle strode over to them.

The Sceptile was erect, both hemipenes sticking out of a genital slit. The Oval Charm gleamed around his neck; Tidal had explicitly told Team Montaine they could use it. “What do you say we compare?” he said.

Tidal smiled. “Gladly.” With the females ooooooohhing and mmmmmmming at the sight, he hefted his cock in one paw and rubbed it against Nettle’s hemis. The touch was warm, hard, and insistent, and Tidal grunted as some pre dribbled out of him, smearing against Nettle’s cocks with the repeated, back-and-forth sawing movement. Thanks to his Water-typing, even his pre was generous, and it wasn’t long before Nettle was good and coated. For his part, Nettle hissed with arousal. While neither of Nettle’s cocks matched up to Tidal’s individually, they more than likely made up for the difference together.

The two of them wordlessly traded blushing gazes that spoke more than an entire soliloquy would have; one of the females swooned at the sight of it. “Maybe the best mon win,” Nettle after a moment, his voice rich and smooth.

Tidal thought back to those lovely few nights spent cuddling with Nettle in the inn, happily suckling the Grass-type’s hemis. He wanted that again so, so badly. “I intend to,” he said without malice.

“Hey, get like… a room, you two.” At the side, Gabbro was watching them, his own cock on display—and he wasn’t anything to scoff at either, with a respectable knot and impressive girth of his own.

“Oh, we did,” Tidal said with a smirk, and he could almost feel Nettle blushing behind him as the females erupted into an excited cascade of screeches and hollers.

“Maybe we should, um, l-let them…” one lass ventured.

“And deprive us of our due competition? No way,” Gabbro said. His cock was big and red, and looked so stiff it was amazed he could focus at all. “Everyone here knows the drill, but to reiterate—me and my teammate in a breeding competition versus the Dewott. Whoever fathers the most eggs wins.”

Tidal nodded. Demographics were such that egg groups shouldn’t have been a problem. “So then,” he said. “Who’s first?”

“I think you know,” came a voice from behind him. The Sneasel’s laugh was a low, delicious purr, and her claws traced her way through his fur, vaguely cool to the touch. Her crimson head-crest—smaller than a male’s—waved slightly in the breeze. Smirking, Tidal gave himself over to her touch, and let her maneuver him into a sitting position with his back against one of the nearby huts. Already, Gabbro had found a paramour of his own, and Nettle was putting his hemipenes to use by gathering two females in his lap, an Ivysaur and a Lilligant, Both Grass-types blushed at being slowly penetrated by his two stakes. Various other females were watching everyone intently.

A claw on his chin pushed Tidal’s attention back to the Sneasel, who was looking at him with hungry bedroom eyes. She was straddling his lap, her moist, dark-furred pussy dancing above his formidable cock. “Let’s not let them have all the fun, shall we?” she purred. “That spire of yours seems delectable, but what I especially want—” And she slammed down onto him, both of their voices rising in a chorus of gasps, “—is to, a-ahh, taste that knot of yours…” she said, her voice suddenly breathy with stimulation.

Tidal gripped one paw around her wrist, settling another on her waist, and then he hiked his hips up into her.

The Dark-type’s eyes widened and her voice left her in an inarticulate hiss, and Tidal sighed with bliss from the feeling of her tight, luscious snatch fluttering hungrily about him. He bucked into her again and she squeezed like a vise, the sensation making her croon and sag against his chest. He held her there, a touch short of breath himself, and smirked at how easily her sultry, in-control demeanor had faltered once they’d actually started. Was she inexperienced, or…

She mewled as another hike of his hips slammed his knot into her, wringing an orgasm out of her, and Tidal grunted as he flushed her full of Water-type seed. That was one down, for sure. He didn’t need an Oval Charm; he’d never failed to impregnate a female.

As she continued sobbing against him from orgasm, her pussy squeezing him over and over for all he had to give, Tidal glanced to see how the competition was doing. Gabbro was still at it, a Glameow keening as he rutted her into the dirt, his paw on her back and her tail coiling about his torso, and both the Ivysaur and the Lilligant were lounging with lazy, satisfied looks to their faces. Rising with a stretch, the Lilligant smirked—and then, her form suddenly rippling like water, she unveiled her true self with a laugh. She wasn’t a Lilligant at all but a Zoroark, eying Nettle with a coy playfulness. It seems she wanted some dragon dick and had disguised herself as a compatible pokemon. She turned and winked at Gabbro and Tidal, the two males compatible with her, and then meandered off, swaying her hips invitingly. Juices caked the fur in her inner thighs.

If her little deception bothered him, Nettle didn’t show it. He seemed to be taking things seriously; he was already entertaining two more ladies, each of them riding his cocks up and down and keening with delight. The Gabite and the Servine seemed as enamored with each other as they were with him; they were making out passionately.

Tidal blinked. A Servine and a Zoroark…

It was hard to make out from how fast Nettle was taking it, but it seemed as though the Sceptile’s dicks were still coated with more than just his own juices and those of his paramours. The pre Tidal had rubbed on him was still visible as a clingy sheen on both of his hemis.

A devilish smirk touched the otter’s whiskers. Now there was an idea… how to put it to the best use?

“Hey, Gabbro?” he asked in a haughty voice, hoping to needle the Lycanroc’s pride. The wolf had just finished rutting the Glameow, who was sprawled incoherently in the grass with cum leaking out of her.

“What is it, freelancer?” he said. “Trying to distract me?”

“How about a secondary wager?” Tidal said, popping his knot out of the Sneasel. The Dark-type moaned as glops of fresh Water-type cum seeped from her slit. “This is all about fertility, right? Well, I already seeded her… but what if you were to steal my thunder?” He gestured at her. “Tell you what. If you successfully impregnate her over me, then the numbers won’t matter at all—I’ll automatically concede defeat. What do you say?”

Gabbro visibly pondered it. Actually managing to knock her up once Tidal had cum in her would be a long shot, but the potential upside was huge. He glanced over at his partner for support; Nettle had cum in both the Gabite and the Servine, and the two reptiles were still moaning as they passionately kissed, each riding one of his two cocks.

“I say go for it,” Nettle said. With a roll of his hips he managed to nudge the pair of pokemon oh-so-hesitantly off of him, and he crooked a finger for two more. “We already have the numerical advantage, so an extra win condition’s in our favor.”

“Right.” Gabbro trotted over to the Sneasel, who was splayed ass-up on the ground, and mounted her without delay. She mumbled something incoherently, her face a mirage of blushing need. “No hard feelings, kid, but I’m gonna enjoy showing you off as my personal ice machine at the Guildsmeet.” And then he shoved in and the Sneasel’s voice rose high and piercing as she was taken a second time, the sensation doubtless overwhelming considering how tender she would be from her recent orgasm.

Despite the ticking clock—Nettle was on his fifth and sixth partners, while he’d only had one—Tidal was content to stay and watch Gabbro for a moment. The sound of his cock lewdly squelching in and out of the Sneasel was loud, turning heads from some of the females, and the Dark-type’s eyes fluttered as she fought to stay conscious. Her mouth released tiny, pleasured sounds—“oh, oh—nn, ah…”—as Gabbro bred her a second time.

But Tidal’s eyes were mainly on his rival’s cock. The more Gabbro took sloppy seconds, the more his canine cock was coated in Water-type cum, until it seemed little more a vessel for Tidal’s seed than anything else. Finally, satisfied, the Dewott smiled and turned away to find another female.

“What’s wrong?” Gabbro taunted after him. “Not gonna stay and watch me beat you?”

Tidal just shook his head. He didn’t need to see Gabbro cum in the Sneasel. He’d gotten exactly what he came for.

---

Gabbro watched his rival leave with only some misgivings. Best he could figure was that this gambit of Tidal’s was an attempt to get Gabbro to waste his time; if he was banging the Sneasel, he wasn’t banging something else.

His tail thumped against the ground, dust dancing a bit as it touched down, and he hiked especially deep into the Sneasel. He felt, rather than heard, her moan; it rippled through him like a small tremor. Well, let the kid think he’d pulled one over on Gabbro. The loss of one female wasn’t going to change things one way or another, and the possibility of claiming victory thanks to Tidal’s own hubris… exquisite.

The Lycanroc grunted as he slammed home, his own seed jetting out to mix and mingle with Tidal’s. The consistency of theirs was different thanks to their typing; Tidal’s was a bit more fluid, Gabbro’s somewhat faster to congeal. He slipped out of the Sneasel, who was murmuring incoherently against the ground, and patted the back of her head playfully with one paw. “There there,” he said. “You did good.”

Turning, he saw a gaggle of females surveying him; the foremost, a coquettish Houndoor, turned to him and lifted her tail, showing off her puffy, needy spade. Immediately after, her friend—a Blitzle who was known to do some adventuring work herself from time to time; she had a small crisscross of scars near one of her hooves to prove it—shouldered in, trying to shove the Fire-type aside while showing off her pussy.

Gabbro just chuckled. Despite having recently came, he was already hard and ready to go. Ah, the perks of being blessed with top-tier virility! “Easy enough, ladies,” he said. “There’s enough wolf to go around.” Trotting forward, he mounted the Houndour, making her squeal as he took her ear in his mouth. He’d mated her before, and she liked it rough. His cock slipped in easily thanks to the juices still coating it, and Gabbro smirked to himself. Did Tidal realize that his cum would help Gabbro breed with less friction? Likely not. Hell, he should be thanking the Dewott for his assistance.

“Nah,” he muttered to himself, his knot working against the hound pokemon’s lips and making her shiver and squeal. “I’ll thank him for his service at the Guildsmeet.”

---

Nettle had always counted himself a top-tier breeder, but the Oval Charm took it to the next level. What was this—his ninth pair of partners? Tenth? Every single time, he’d put his hemis to good use and taken two females at a time. Normally, such a punishing pace would leave even him struggling—but the charm pulsing against his breast like a second heartbeat was lending him stamina like he couldn’t have believed.

Enough to match Tidal? He bucked into the females again, their dual moans ringing in his ears. One of them had already cum, and the second whimpered as her pussy danced around his cock, squeezing it for all it had to give her. He grunted, feeling weary yet confident. Enough to match Tidal… he honestly didn’t know if he could or not. But thankfully, he wasn’t on his own. Him and Gabbro both, with an Oval Charm speeding him up? Even Tidal couldn’t stand up to that. Nettle almost felt bad about Gabbro’s proposition to humiliate him in the Guildsmeet—but Tidal had agreed more than readily. Plus, the Water-type’s proposed counter-offer wasn’t exactly unappealing to Nettle either.

One of his current paramours, an Ampharos, slumped against him, murmuring incoherently as she kept squeezing him for every last drop. Her friend, a Leafeon, slid off of him and tottered away with a tired, blissful look on her face. Interestingly, the color and verdancy of her leaves seemed more vibrant than when they’d started. He’d sometimes heard that they drew power from ‘cultivation’… who knew this was what they meant!

As the Leafeon curled up in the shadow of a hut and began to doze off, Nettle realized that though she had leaves, they didn’t share an egg group. Now that was just silly. He shook his head. No sense in dwelling on it; besides, if she was spent, that was a pokemon that Tidal couldn’t knock up. Still a net gain.

After a moment, he rolled his hips and the Ampharos took the hint, popping off him with a wince as his cum seeped out of her. “Thanks,” she murmured, and he nodded as she walked away. Two more females filed in, both wide-eyed and eager. Nettle stood, popping his shoulders with a roll. He was starting to feel his stamina diminish… but he still had another session in him, perhaps even two.

“Let’s do this,” he said, and the two females turned and presented themselves to their hometown hero.

---

Tidal was taking things niiiiiiiice and slow.

He bucked in, sighing, luxuriating in the tightness of the Luxio he was banging. She clenched like a vise around him and he popped in his knot, slapping his broad, black tail against the grass for emphasis as he tied himself with her.

She squeezed him and he hissed with delight, hunching over her as tiny sparks danced between them. He winced; thanks to his typing, even this minor display was enough to sting, though it was only momentary. She probably didn’t even realize she was doing it.

As his knot swelled, pushing back against the valiant confines of her warm snatch, he reflected back to his memory of the Luxio who’d helped rescue him from the temple. Their eggs should have been well and hatched now… perhaps he would swing by sometime and say hello. The Sylveon, in any rate, seemed like she had a good head on their shoulders. The young would do well.

He popped loose from the Luxio, taking his time to savor the sensation. He was only just breaking into double digits… for him, that was slow indeed. He stretched, feeling the tension in his muscles, and smiled at a Mienshao, who sashayed over to him. Despite all that, he wasn’t feeling particularly worried—not at all.

---

“I can confirm that they—uh, I mean, um, we… are all carrying.”

Gabbro whooped alongside the rest of the females of Truevale. The town’s doctor, a Comfey, blushed with a happy smile, drifting side-to-side in the air. She had been one of Nettle’s last paramours. She was apparently good enough with aromas that she could tell a female’s state from scent alone.

“Damn!” Gabbro said, pawing the ground in triumph. Small pebbles danced around him in adulation, extensions of his will. “Fourteen for me, twenty-eight for you, Nettle, and twelve for the newcomer.” He eyed Tidal. “We don’t even need to stick around, huh? I coulda beat you on my own!”

The Dewott just smirked. Behind the Comfey, the females were celebrating, a Houndour congratulating a Servine congratulating a Mienshao. A Leafeon and a Zoroark, both looking confused yet delighted, were in hushed conversation. “How do you know you still won?” Tidal said airily. “What if I got twins?”

“Twins?” Gabbro scoffed. Tidal nodded. “For every female?” He nodded again. “Ignoring the fact that you’d still be left short our numbers, the likelihood of getting even one pair would be—”

“And how do we know they weren’t already pregnant?” Tidal glanced at the Comfey. “Did you check?”

The floral pokemon just huffed, brushing her flowers with an irksome air. “Well… no, but…”

“Oh, come on!” Gabbro protested. “It’s obvious you lost! Just—”

Nettle cut in. “Let’s not count victory just yet,” he said cautiously. “Remember last time? He had an ace in the hole.”

Tidal was smiling infuriatingly, and even humming! Gabbro wanted to flick his tail. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll wait till after the eggs are laid. The Guildsmeet isn’t for a bit anyway.” He paced back and forth. “But what are we supposed to do?” he complained. “The layings have to be at least a good month or so away, so do we just laze around with our paws up our asses?”

One of the females, an Ampharos, coughed politely. “Actually, since you’re here… a rogue tribe of outriders has taken camp in the forest and harassed the ones we trade with…”

The three males met their gazes and Tidal shrugged. “A couple of missions to fill the time never hurt anyone.”

Gabbro all but rolled his eyes as he trotted off. “Fine,” he said, “but don’t get too comfy on this team! You’re not going to be a regular fixture!”

Meeting gazes, Nettle just shrugged at Tidal before heading off. Tidal smirked and followed behind.

That job proved to be a cinch, but one of the friendly outriders in the forest had given them another, rougher one. By the time they had completed it and headed back, over a month and a half had passed.

“Let’s see, let’s see!” Gabbro sang to himself, all but skipping into town. Tidal followed with a smile. The Lycanroc had lightened up a touch on their journeys, but he was still clearly elated at the prospect of pulling one over Tidal. “Time to see those egg patterns, lads!” The shell of an egg often boasted a colored pattern based on the typing of the father. It was a fool-proof method of determining paternity… well, when it came to type, anyway. “Let’s see some of those tan speckles teaming up with green to defeat bl—”

As he rounded a corner to Truevale’s nursery field, he stopped, eyes wide. “Defeat bl—d-defeat—wh-wh—”

Tidal and Nettle followed close behind and the Sceptile’s sigh was one of resignation. “Thought so,” he muttered. Before them stretched a veritable ocean of blue with a few healthy pockets of green—and no tan whatsoever.

“H-how?” Gabbro demanded. “There’s gotta be like three dozen eggs there, Tidal!”

“Only thirty-three,” he responded with false modesty. “Assuming no issues in the laying process.”

“Shut up!” Gabbro insisted. “Thirty-three? You barely slept with twelve females!”

“True,” he replied with a lackadaisical air. Putting his paws behind his head, he winked at him. “But then, the criteria was just about them getting impregnated, wasn’t it?”

Gabbro sputtered. “But—but how—”

“Because we were fools,” Nettle cut in with a knowing air. “He and I had that little contest beforehand, and he smeared his seed all over my hemis. And as for you…”

Realization dawned, making Gabbro’s eyes widen. “The… the Sneasel…” he said.

“This was a virility test, wasn’t it?” Tidal said roguishly. “If coating your cocks in my seed was enough to ensure that I impregnated the females you tried to breed, then I’d say I definitely came out on top, eh?”

“That’s—that’s not—but we did all the work!”

“Oh, I disagree,” he said. “I think my little swimmers worked very very hard!”

Looking frustrated, Gabbro darted into the nursery field, checking the color of each egg’s patterns. “Blue… green… blue… blue… c’mon, there’s gotta be some tan!”

Falling in alongside Tidal, Nettle shook his head. “Most of my partners weren’t in your egg group, but you snagged any who were,” he said. “But you and Gabbro are in the same group, so he doesn’t have a chance.”

“C’mon,” Gabbro said, zipping from egg to egg. “There’s gotta be… there’s…!”

A polite cough sounded from behind him. He turned around to find the Glameow standing over an egg. She nudged it. “Here you are,” she said, the shell speckled tan for all to see.

The Lycanroc could only stare at it as his cohorts approached. “There you go!” Tidal said cheerily.

“One… just one?” Gabbro said in disbelief.

“Hey, it’s your town,” Tidal said. “You’ll have plenty of opportunity for more.” In fact, as he spoke, he saw one of the nursery attendants—a somewhat frazzled-looking male Boltund—shoot Gabbro the dirtiest look imaginable. He wondered how ungrateful Gabbro must have seemed, complaining about ‘only’ one egg. Something told Tidal that the other males of Truevale were lucky to get that much a year…

He shook his head. It had nothing to do with him. “Now then.” He rubbed his paws together. “I’d like to claim my prize.” His eyes darted playfully from Gabbro to Nettle and back again. “So when and where exactly should we have our threesome?”