Bubbles, free-use fucktoys

more of her V V uncropped below V V

"um... just one more round, sis?" she rolls her eyes—that's what she said the last six times.

before she can say no, her little sister looks at her with those adorable puppy eyes...

It was a while before she said it again, but the next time was when she had her teeth on your neck and your hips in her hands. She whispered husky against your skin about how badly she just wanted to catch you and keep you in a way that no one could separate you two ever again. It was cute - the gesture, at least - but that was what pet play was for. You already had a collar with a little bell on it, she guided you around by a leash sometimes. You told her that, and she went quiet, her eyes dark and intense and fierce.

After that, you couldn't help but find yourself... looking, sometimes. Staring at the way trainers and their Pokémon interacted. The way an Eevee would snuggle up into their master's lap, or how pretty a Furfrou would look after a grooming. Even those Pokémon in the wild that you'd pass by started to feel....... hollow in a way you couldn't understand.

Some criminal gang showed up on the news one day, and they started boasting about their Poké Balls (designed after some old weird black Poké Balls with eyes on them that showed up at some ruin somewhere) could catch Pokémon that already had an owner, and even worse, could possibly catch more than Pokémon. Officer Jenny decried this and publicly stated it was an impossibility, but as you watched the news, you could feel the tension in your girlfriend, her intense stare boring holes into the TV set.

A week later, a night of passion, tugging your collar as she buried herself in you over and over, and near the end with you dazed and panting and practically unconscious, she reached to the side table. It was silly, you thought, she didn't wear condoms - no. Not that. Sleek and black, obsidian purple lines and a glaring eye, the Poké Ball was intimidating in a way that went beyond the fear you felt in your gut. A primal, dangerous fear, the fear only a prey can comprehend when it sees the gaping maw of a predator.

You wanted to run, you wanted to scream and tell her no and thrash against her and tell her that this was stupid and illegal and... But you didn't. You didn't protest as she pressed the button to your neck, a needy, keening whine falling from your lips as it flashed and-

In a flash of red, you were back on the bed, blinking in surprise, panting and disoriented. You must have gone in and come back out, with no perception of the time in between. You felt... fine. No. That's not it.

You felt wrong. Different. Broken.

When you wore your collar for her, there was something beyond the physical discomfort of leather tight against skin. There was something deeper there. A feeling of domestication, a feeling of ownership. The knowledge that the collar can be grabbed or clipped by a leash and you will always comply. She didn't overpower you physically - she didn't need to. The implication was enough. The subservience was enough.

This was that, tenfold. In your gut, in your heart, in your brain you felt a complete hold on your psyche. Every atom in you was drawn to your girlfriend now, Poké Ball in her hand, like a magnet. You wanted to be against her, you needed to be touching her, you needed to be hers.

"Up," she said. You sat up. You didn't even think, your body moved before conscious thought. "Off the bed." You did. Legs swinging over, even as your mind struggled and bent against the commands. There was a lash around your heart. "Stand." Up you went. Trembling, gasping, sweating with tears pouring down your cheeks. You could move, you twitched your fingers to make sure of it, but you could not go against a command your girlfriend made, not while she was the one holding the Poké Ball.

You could never disobey her again.

You sobbed, falling into her arms as she stood beside you, trembling like a leaf as she held you and scratched your back, kissing needily up your jaw and neck. You didn't need the leash anymore. You didn't need the collar or the promise of pet play or the implication of subservience.

You belong to her, now.

like- ok, that "human intelligence" didn't seem to help your comrade in the last sortie? I didn't even need rifle fire, the 6 doll pilots in my squadron stripped the armor plates in under a minute. A sight to behold, really. Breached the cockpit 40 seconds later.

call me when the "human spirit" can hold up against pack tactics and high freq blades. me and my doll units are making out sloppy while we hose out the inside of your cockpit and reappropriate your frame for the colonization effort.