I Woke up as a Pokemon: One-Shots

A place for all the other stories too short to need their own paste:

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Garchompanon Destroys His Bed:


Eyes refused to open as he gradually awoke from his nap. In spite of his blindness, however temporary, he could still feel his bed beneath him, and he found its current, almost deflated state to be very lacking. A soft chuff of hot air escaped his nose as he lifted his head up and then some, only to turn into a startled squawk as he finally opened his eyes.
The world around him, a world he used to be the master of, was in tatters. Long, singular claw marks tore their way through his walls and dressers and shelves. Wood splintered on the floor, while his curtains were naught but ribbons. Even his hand, when he caught sight of it as he tried to crawl out of his bed-crater, wasn't as it should be, for a white, razor-sharp claw jutted forth from his purple wrist. Further up his slender forearm, a long fin was seemingly tacked onto it, given that it pointed awkwardly outwards like a shark's, and not downwards like a bird's feather. Though he couldn't see much of his own body, his thighs did have two small white spikes poking out of them, and while his feet were a bit thick, they had nothing on what must have been his tail. Fat, round, and stubby, the fins at its end were, of all things, not unlike a plane's tail fins, though he doubted that he could fly like one.
After all that, maybe it was no wonder that he curled himself back up, gawked as he saw his red belly, and fitfully tried to get some sleep.

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PokeParents Couldn't Cope Before and Can't Cope Now:


>Wake up to your phone ringing
>Fucking 3am?
>Who gets up that early?
>Caller ID says it’s Dad
>Oh god.
>”Hello? What’s going on!?”
>”Hi son, how are you doing?”
>”Uhh… fine… what’s going on?”
>”Have you seen the news lately?”
>”Not today, no. Is everything okay?”
>”Oh I don’t mean today, just in general lately. The last few months.”
>”DAD. What is it?”
>”Right. You know those kookymons people are turning into? I think it happened to us.”
>”WHAT”
>”Hold on, let me put your mother on, she knows more about this.”
>”Hello honey! How are you doing? We didn’t wake you did we? I’ve been reading about this happening on my iPad. Next time you visit, I need to ask you about it, it keeps asking about an update and my password?”
>”Mom, when did this happen?”
>”About a week ago. We didn’t want to bother you, we know how hard you’re working. We just need some help figuring out groceries. Have you heard of this Instant Cart? Is it a scam?”

And you thought getting transformed was the worst thing that could happen to you?

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Which Pokemon is This Supposed to Be Again?:


>tfw i wake up surrounded by fire
>at least it doesnt hurt
>
>why are my fingers purple
>is this fur
>
>is that a tail
>its kinda weird
>waving about and all that
>
>walking is a bit weird
>would rather just kinda crawl
>
>is this even crawling
>like im not on my knees
>but im also definitely not just walking
>
>damn, my toes are purple as well
>i should really get this checked out

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Sinistea Dies:


>Wake up
>can barely move
>no arms or legs at all
>struggle and eventually fall over
>feel something wet under you
>also feel your very soul draining out of you
Such is the short tragic life of Sinistea-anon

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The Bowling Green Bats:


>things havent been the same ever since it happened
>for some reason science still cant explain, in spite of the literal millions of souls spent in search of an answer
>ordinary people are becoming monsters, and i am one of them
>the good news is that i can fly
>its sick, its a whole new world up in the sky
>its literally the limit, and unless its a thunderstorm nothings keeping me down
>the bad news is that im blind
>blind as a bat
>im a fucking blind bat who has to scream every time i enter a new room
>my boyfriend, who thankfully hasnt let this ruin our very intimate relationship, says that ill start to remember the rooms of my house someday
>god above, i hope its soon because i am sick and tired of hitting doorways
>if my eyes werent practically nonexistent, theyd be in immeasurable pain
>as is, only my forehead and dignity are in bandages
>maybe one day ill grow larger
>maybe one day i will be able to see again
>but until then, i, and countless others like me, will just have to suffer living the furrys' dreams

>at least im not the only blind bat in Bowling Green
>id probably kill myself if i was

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That Dratini Ain't Right:


It was cold out; the sort of cold that made one button up their coat one button higher. And yet, the neighbor's kid was still squirming about in the rain. Stubborn, is what I'd call their kid. Not to their parents' faces, of course, but I call a spade a spade, and if some other gardener overhears me, I won't bother listening to their trowel drivel. No, I'll be too busy staring stupidly at the kid neighbor.
Once, he was but a boy. He played in the mud, waved sticks around, and was fairly kind whenever Halloween came around; he always took one candy extra, for his baby sister. She's twelve now, and has to bring him his extra candy, but she remembers him dearly, as do their parents. Oh, the whole neighborhood remembers when the McMulligans' boy was a boy and not a two-foot long, writhing, finned, blue snake. No natural philosopher I or anyone else for that matter know of can explain what species of snake their sweet, little boy turned into some five years back.
Between his small size, lack of a voice beyond the occassional, "Ti!" he'll squeak when he's excited, and that white belly of his, every one of the McMulligans wants to keep him indoors. I told them there were no eagles this side of the Potomac, but they didn't listen; I suppose it's better that they care rather than they didn't. He's a wormy little bastard, though, and he'll find his way out of damn near anything. Maybe he just wants to feel the rain on his skin again.
I do think that he should stop glowing, though. He'll attract those eagles out East ol' Petunia's been worrying herself sick about.

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Someone Invented Pokeballs, So I Used Them to Save on Cinema Tickets:


>The purse was heavy on her shoulders
>Too heavy, too big, too obvious
>She was gonna get caught for sure, and then banned from the best theater in town
>All the specialty showings and those plush recliner seats, forever out of her reach
"Welcome to the Kinoplex, can I help you?"
>Too late to back out now
>One for the Perfect Blue remaster
"Sure, that'll be $20"
>The excessive foreign film markup steeled her resolve
>It faltered again when she realized where she'd left her wallet
>The perfect plan ruined by a small oversight
>She reached cautiously into her purse
>With every crinkle of the snack bags her face went a bit paler, and her breathing got sharper
>To the highly trained ears of a ticket taker, the noise was surely unmistakable
>She finally found her wallet at the very bottom
>Act fast
>She yanked it out of her purse, hoping the ticket taker wouldn't notice the thin strip of popcorn grease on its side, and thrust her credit card into his hand
>There was a brief pause
"Ma'am..."
>She winced
"Between you and me, we're not even allowed to search bags for snacks."
>He took the card and got her ticket.
"Enjoy the movie," he winked
>She didn't truly feel relief until she reclined in one of those plush chairs
>The lights to went down, the previews got loud, and she finally felt safe opening her bag
>Four bags of popcorn
>Four boxes of candy
>Three Pokeballs
>They owed her big time

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How to Sheer An Electric Sheep:


>The soft chill of the morning air greeted you as you stepped out into the early dawn. Your boots squished the morning dew coating the grass as you approached the western pasture.
>You were greeted with a familiar sight. The flock of sheep were quietly grazing by the gate, patiently waiting to be rid of the excess wool grown over the last few months.
>It was the time of year again to take care of all that mess before it got too out of hand.
>As you opened the gate, you paused mid-stride and took a double take at one of the sheep. They seemed... off.
>Same build and size as the others, but their wool was more of a soft cream color than dirty white.
>...And their skin was a deep blue, they had what looked like black and yellow striped ears, and a tail with a similar pattern that ended in a glassy orange orb that shimmered in the sunlight.
>Your hand tightened on the handle of your shears as the realization dawned on you.
>Your sheep turned into one of those pokemon things over night.
>You didn't know what specifically. The other sheep acted like nothing changed, all of them chewing cud with the same lazy-eyed disposition.
>It regarded you no differently than any of the others would have, and let out a soft 'baa' as it placidly approached, allowing you to get a better look.
>"Well... Alright. You're more or less still a sheep, and you definitely need a shearing. How the hell am I gonna take care of all that?"
>Its thick, puffy wool glowed a gentle yellow, and seemed to hum faintly like distant electricity.
>You swore you saw small sparks of static occasionally dancing through it as well.

>You chewed your lip as you considered what to do.
>Your manual shears should still work. They had rubber handles, so hopefully that would be insulation enough to protect you from any currents trying to sneak up the tool?
>But as you reached towards the pokemon, the air buzzed in an off-putting way around your hands, smelling faintly of ozone.
>You yanked them back, muttering a swear. The sheep creature tilted its head, a rueful expression on its face.
>You tapped a finger on the shears, before you exhaled a sigh as you turned around to retreat to the tool shed.
>Took you a few minutes of rummaging around, but you found what you needed.
>You felt a little ridiculous, but when you returned you had on some large rubber gloves and an old beat-up welding mask.
>Hopefully that would be enough. This was probably the dumbest thing you've ever done in your life.
>The entire process was awkward, and you took it nice and slow out of excess of caution, but you made it work with some assistance from the pokemon.
>Every snip caused the wool to crackle like taking dry laundry out on a cold, dry day. Poor shears definitely suffered a bit and looked slightly crispy by the end.
>The sheep creature gently shook itself, looking up at you with a slight smile, and walked back to join the others where it was greeted with indifference.
>You gazed down at the pile of soft, luminous fleece buzzing by your feet and wondered what the current going rate was for electric monster wool.

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Joining the Festivities:


>You wipe your hands of pumpkin guts as you finish your carving.
>Out of practice as you were, the process took around an hour, but you were happy with the result.
>Staring back at you was the roughly made smirk of a gengar.
>You haven’t carved a pumpkin in years, never really enjoyed the process even as a kid.
>Pumpkin guts were kinda gross.
>But with all the Pokémon craziness going on right now you expect the festivities to be extra special this go around, and figured you’d do one up for the fun of it.
>You pick up the pumpkin and place it down on your front porch, lighting the candle inside to get a peek at how it would look illuminated.
>Satisfied, you were about to head in before you noticed another, rather strange pumpkin on the other side of the door.
>You definitely didn’t place that there.
>It had two holes carved on the front, and what looked like black fur spilling out from the top?
>Strange. Probably some Pokémon you weren’t aware of. You were going to leave it alone and head inside, but a strange feeling of curiosity got a hold of you.
>You went to take a closer look before light flashed out from the carved holes.
>You were befuddled for a moment, rubbing the stars from your eyes, before trying to remember what you were about to do.
>Oh, that’s right. You needed to go out and get more pumpkins to carve. The little one here needed more friends after all!
>Five more? No, ten sounded better. Heck, maybe twenty.
>You walked to your car to head back to town to gather your supplies.
>As you pulled out, the pumpkaboo peeked an eye open before waddling over to hug the gengar pumpkin, falling back to sleep.