Can't rape the willing: A Weavile story

>Your friend was generally a nice person
>They were an adept trainer, friendly with their Pokemon, good at what they did, generally kind to people
>Most of the time, you were happy to call them a friend
>Right now?
>Not so much

>They'd practically suckered you into this one
>You were told that while Weavile in general would be a dangerous species to have around, this particular Weavile was downright passive (lie #1)
>You were told that Weavile would need little more care than some food and water (lie #2)
>You were told you'd hardly notice she was there (lie #3)
>And you were told it would only be for a week anyway (lie #4)

>In reverse order, then:
>Your friend's flight had been delayed by a blizzard that actually destroyed some of the planes; he's been busy helping out with his Typhlosion
>Weavile may not have been attention-hungry, but she bounced off the fucking walls
>Your electricity bills were spiking sharply from all the time she spent sitting outside your fridge, just because the early-spring (read: a few degrees shy of freezing) weather wasn't cold enough for her
>And you had more than a few scratches from her "play" fighting
>You were counting the days until your friend got back at this point
>You'd say things couldn't get much worse, but you knew that would just taunt Murphy

>Apparently, even thinking it could call down Murphy's wrath
>On the morning of the tenth day since your friend told you he'd pick up Weavile in a week, you rolled yourself out of bed and nearly slipped on a patch of ice on the floor
>What a wonderful start to the day
>You walked downstairs, narrowly avoiding two more patches of black ice
>What the fuck was with her today?

>You opened the fridge, half-expecting to see that she'd crammed herself in there
>From the looks of it, she might have, but she wasn't there any more
>Now that you thought about it, it was kinda weird that she hadn't shown up by now
>Usually, she was insisting that you get the can opener right now, with use of her claws for emphasis
>Not that she couldn't have opened the cans herself, she just didn't like to get her claws dirty
>Well, you should probably find her at some point

>After you finished the most relaxing breakfast you'd eaten in ten days, you decided that you should probably go look for Weavile
>An hour later, you finally stood and wandered off in search of her
>Two hours later, you were feeling somewhat perplexed
>She was never this quiet, and she never missed a chance to bother you for food if she thought she could get away with it
>Well, the last place you hadn't checked was the attic
>She did go up there sometimes, just for the cold air
>You'd given up on getting the attic door shut, so maybe...

>Sure enough, you nearly slipped on yet another patch of black ice under the attic
>The attic trapdoor was shut, too, meaning that she might have just gotten stuck up there somehow
>While it would serve her right, you didn't want her to starve before your friend could come get her - he was still your friend, after all
>With a sigh, you pulled out the stepladder and set it up under the trapdoor
>You climbed up and shoved the trapdoor open, letting it land behind you with a heavy thud
>No little red-and-grey ball of sharp bits came flying at you
>But there was a strange, vaguely organic smell that reminded you of her
>...you'd better check and see she wasn't hurt up here
>But if she'd pissed on the floor you were going to toss her off the roof

>Grumbling to yourself, you pulled yourself through the trapdoor, taking a look around at all the things you'd stored up here
>Box of Christmas decorations, Grandpa's old sea chest, box of kiddy clothing, Weavile on the ceiling, ancient drafting table, hangers filled with tablecloths...
>Wait
>You do a double-take in exactly the same moment as Weavile launches herself at you
>You land hard on your back, and she lands on your chest
>Swearing loudly, you move to get up
>Weavile lays one razor-sharp claw across your throat, and you freeze
>She's never done that before

>Now that you look at her, there are some differences
>Her mammary glands appear to have swollen up a little under her fur
>She's breathing heavier than usual, even more than she usually is after she attacks you
>She feels warmer than normal where she kneels on your chest
>Her crest, usually dull red and pressed together, is particularly bright
>Most tellingly, you can feel your shirt slowly start to dampen under her
>...Oh no

>You remember doing some research on Weavile back when you first agreed to look after her
>One of the sites you visited had something on the mating habits of wild Weavile
>During the mating season, both males and females will lure their chosen mates from their packs and assault them, practically raping their unfortunate victims
>It's possible to turn the tables on a Weavile in a mating heat by physically overpowering it, but given their sharp claws this can be difficult
>The site warned that since Weavile tend to pick the strongest and largest mates they can find, Weavile intending to mate with Trainers during heat is not uncommon
>Trainers are cautioned to watch for signs of heat, including unusually vibrant crests and patches of dangerous hidden ice (traps that may incapacitate the Weavile's mate), and to never pursue a Weavile in heat into an isolated place
>Of course, it's only NOW that you remember

>Weavile brings you back to reality with a quick slash at your pants
>You instinctively shiver as the razor-sharp claws narrowly miss your junk, but slice through denim and cloth like tissue paper
>A few more slashes quickly reveals your cock, and Weavile purrs - or growls - low in her throat when she sees it revealed
>She slides down your body, keeping one claw pressed to your skin and drawing a tear in your shirt
>Dammit, you kind of liked that shirt
>You're brought out of your frozen reverie by a strangely pleasurable sensation
>Weavile is slowly licking along your shaft, rapidly bringing you to full erection
>The fine tips of her claws are beating out a gentle tattoo on your surrounding skin
>The chill, the very real danger, and the licking is actually starting to get you hard

>You begin to wonder if your friend set you up for this
>So you'd looked at some Pokemon porn once, so what
>Everyone had that one shameful jack-off session to Gardevoir (maybe Machoke for girls), and, well, Braixen isn't TOO far off that, right?
>And you'd cleared your history anyway
>And besides, Weavile is a hell of a step away from a humanlike Pokemon like that
>...but between your rapidly stiffening cock and your subtle awareness that Weavile is actually beautiful, you're having trouble justifying yourself

>Evidently, you're hard enough for her
>You can feel her moving, even if you don't dare look too closely, as she crawls up between your legs
>Then you gasp in pleasure as she impales herself on you in a single drop
>God, she's tight, and small to boot - you can feel the head of your dick practically brushing her cervix
>There's a little bit of chill in there, but rather than killing your erection, it's actually pleasant
>You look up in time to see her throw back her head and yowl, a throaty yell that makes clear just how much she's enjoying this
>Then she starts to ride you

>She's not gentle, not in the slightest
>If she weren't so small, you'd fear for the integrity of your pelvis
>She's bouncing her whole body up and down, claws forgotten by her sides, eyes half-closed in pleasure
>If you look closely, you can even see the bulge your dick is making in her smooth belly
>Half-forgetting yourself, you reach up to massage her small breasts

>She scratches you
>She actually scratches you, lashing out to mark three red lines across your chest
>She hisses too, a snarling, spitting noise that makes you lie back down before you can really process what just happened
>When you're lying still again, her hackles finally go down, and she slowly starts to ride you again
>But you're pissed now
>Another memory comes to mind, from the same site - apparently, if a Weavile selects another Weavile as a mate, the target will sometimes overpower the initiator and more or less rape them back
>In that case, the subsequent roles of the initiator and the victim will invert, with the initiator becoming subservient to the "victim"
>If she's going to play "natural," then you can too

>Without warning, you surge upright, grabbing her wrists and bearing her down under you
>She snarls and tries to slash at you again, but you have the advantages of surprise and pure mass, trapping her arms at her sides
>She snaps at your face, but you don't allow yourself to flinch back
>Instead, you snarl right back at her before - for lack of better options - bashing your head into hers
>She's stunned for a second, head wobbling dizzily
>When she recovers, your teeth are bared at her throat
>Turnabout is fair fucking play

>A change comes over her, then
>She looks away from you, appearing unwilling to meet your eyes
>She stops struggling, lying meek and still under you
>...Could it really be that easy?
>Regardless, you're way too horny to stop just because you've won
>You pull back from her neck cautiously, but there's no reaction other than for her to tuck her head down gingerly
>Alright then
>Time for a little bit of vengeance

>Now it's you who's fucking her roughly
>You slam into her hard, bottoming out each time, making the small bulge in her torso leap as you bury your cock in her repeatedly
>Her pussy is amazing for it - the subtle chill seems to numb your cock just a little, simultaneously letting you last longer and preventing you from hurting yourself driving into her too hard
>She screams and writhes under you, but doesn't seem too eager to actually try to pull away from your grip
>And, from what you can hear, she's enjoying this as much as you are

>As you get close to your climax, you make the mistake
>You release one of her arms, intending to rub her breasts
>In an instant, she's moving again, freed arm flashing up towards your face
>You recoil back and up, pushing yourself into a seated position, but she follows you
>You can't move quickly enough to recapture her arm; instead, you close your fingers around her neck at the same time that the tips of her claws touch the hollow of your throat
>It's a Mexican standoff
>You stop moving in fear, a part of you frustrated that you got so close only to fuck up at the last instant
>Weavile snarls in frustration and, tucking her legs into yours, slams her body against you
>You pull back a little, surprised, bringing her neck with you
>Tiny beads of blood appear around your throat

>At this point, you've run out of fucks to give except literal ones
>This bitch has tormented you, nearly raped you, attacked you, and tried to metaphorically backstab you
>You're going to fill her up with your cum if it kills you
>You push up into her again, and are rewarded with that throaty purr of pleasure
>Your grip loosens slightly around her throat, but rather than try to pull away, she moves her claws a few inches to point at your collarbone instead
>Encouraged, you thrust again
>Weavile pushes herself into you and against you, her small breasts rubbing up against your body
>Your arm moves to wrap around her, and her claws are thrown across your back
>You're not sure if you're still fighting anymore

>In the next minute, she comes
>Her head goes back, her eyes close, and she yowls straight into your chest
>Her pussy clamps and ripples around your cock, trying to milk it dry
>Her claws rake across your back as she grips you as tight as she can, leaving red furrows down your sides
>It's all too much for you, and you give a groaning snarl of pleasure, crushing her to you as you explode inside of her

>The two of you stay that way for some time, your cock still embedded in her dripping pussy, neither of you willing to move
>At last, she pushes herself away from you
>Your cock falls out of her with a quiet popping sound, and she gasps a little as she feels it go
>Clearly unable to really walk straight,she totters her way over to the only small window in your attic and curls up beneath it
>Meanwhile, you make your own wobbly way down to the bathroom
>You should probably put some hydrogen peroxide or something on those cuts

>By the time your friend comes back, you and Weavile have established a kind of relationship where you still hate each other
>Except now you fuck each other, or fight each other, or both simultaneously
>It's kinda hard to tell
>He smirks a little when you answer the door with a bright red gash still present on your cheek (she's got a corresponding bruise on her left ribs, the little minx)
>Your face goes white, but he just laughs and twists to show you a pale white scar on his left shoulderblade
>Her sister was a feisty one too, he says
>Taking care of one is a full-time job, so he's glad you took on hers
>Especially with her heat coming on, that would've been near impossible
>Wait, what?
>Oh, he says, and if you need help installing a cooling unit, he knows a guy who knows a guy
>You stand speechless in your front door as he walks away whistling