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A Suitable Grunt

By Limewah

Commission for Carmine

Featuring settings and characters from Pokémon

18+

When running from wild Pokémon, it’s probably not a good idea to scream at the top of your lungs. That could attract more of ‘em, after all. You’re just giving away your position.

Trip wasn’t good at thinking of things like that, particularly in the moment. His arms were pumping as he ran faster than he knew his legs could carry him, and he was yelping and gasping for air the whole way. He wasn’t even articulating any words, so someone might have just mistaken him for a Guzzlord and stayed well away.

The buzzing of the angry Beedrills was getting closer and closer, and he heard the ‘thump’ of the thin, stinging needles embedding themselves in the tree trunks as he passed them. He was still under fire, and it was just down to sheer dumb luck that he hadn’t been pricked by any of them yet.

Knocking down that hive with a rock to get some honey from it seemed pretty silly now… why had he thought it was a Combee hive?!

As he ran, full of adrenaline-fuelled tunnel vision, he saw a metal door built into the wall of a cave. He didn’t stop to think about why there might be a door in the middle of this deep forest. It was his only way to escape.

Not only was the door unlocked - it was ajar, probably left open by someone careless, or someone who’d just stepped out. He could explain it to whoever was inside…!

He slid past the opening and pulled the door tightly shut behind him. Shortly after the click of it closing, he heard a series of loud clangs as the bees crashed into the door, followed by some thin pattering sounds as they tried to sting their way through. It was no good. Not even a scratch.

Trip fell to his feet and gasped for air, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his pale brow and out of his dark, coiffed hair.

Running from a swarm of bee Pokémon really took it out of you; it took some time for his lungs to stop burning and for his vision to settle.

“I need some water,” he gasped to himself. It was only when he grasped at empty air behind his back that he remembered he’d left it behind.

“Oh no…” he groaned, slapping his forehead. “Alright, let’s see, maybe those bees will calm down and I can get back there…”

The next thing he noticed was that the cave - this section of it, anyway - was weirdly hot and humid, stuffy like a sauna. Not to mention there was a lingering scent of what smelled like cigarette smoke.

He didn’t want to linger around and give the smell time to stick to his clothes.

He looked down the cave passageway. There was light up ahead, bright and fluorescent. Someone was here… maybe he could flag them down for some help?

Surely someone who had a secret hiding place in the forest could be trustworthy and eager to give them a hand. There was nothing fishy about that at all.

It was little wonder that Trip kept finding himself in situations like this. He had very little self-reflection.

The further he sojourned into the cave, the more he started to feel a cool, dry breeze caressing him. It was definitely not natural, too. When he caught the glimpses of vents overhead, covering carved tunnels in the ceiling, he was able to piece it together.

Someone was definitely here, if they had the air conditioning on full blast.

Ahead of him was a door, with a big red R emblazoned on it just below a porthole mirror. Trip paid little heed. He was more focused on what was past the door. What he could see looked sterile, smooth, and most importantly, sealed off from the outside world.

He wasn’t thinking about any of the implications. For all intents and purposes for him, this was just a lucky break, he’d found someplace to chill.

It looked like this was a break room, with some comfy couches and a cooking space

As he stepped inside, he noticed more of those R symbols emblazoned on the walls, as well as on a few mugs that had been left inverted to dry on a rack next to the sink.

“Huh, wonder what the R stands for,” he muttered to himself, before his growling stomach extracted him. “Dang, I’m hungry, let’s see what’s in the fridge…”

He didn’t notice the cameras in the corners of the ceiling, watching him and softly whirring as the lens zoomed telescopically closer. It remained trained on him even after he decided there was nothing worth taking, and wandered out of the room.

The security cameras in the hall picked up the slack for that one.

“You’re in big trouble for this one. How hard is it to make sure the door’s after a smoke break?”

“I’m really sorry sir…”

“We’ll deal with that later.

“Who is he…?”

“Doesn’t look like he’s a trainer. I don’t think he has a single Pokémon on him.”

“Yeah. Should we nab him before he breaks something?”

“No… hang on. Look where he’s going now…”

“But that’s the- oh. Ohhhh.”

“Heh, exactly. I’m sure we can draw him in there.”

“Hellooooo?” Trip called out, hearing the very slight echo of his voice bounce back to him. He looked up, and saw some dark signs with white lettering hanging from the ceiling. It reminded him of a hospital.

“Lobby, straight ahead… bathrooms, Rec Room, that’s where I was… Testing Lab? Ooooh…”

He couldn’t resist the siren call of those signs. He was in a secret base of some kind, that had to be it. Team R… he felt like he’d heard of a Team R-something before, but it was escaping him.

When Trip found the lab and slipped inside, it was impossible to ignore the Emboar in the room. When he first saw it, Trip flinched and nearly bolted! A giant fire-type Pokémon behind glass was still a giant fire-type Pokémon. But it was standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, staring at nothing at all with a blank, stoic expression. It didn’t look to be hooked up to anything; the room was completely barren and blank.

The Emboar was clad in a tight black bodysuit, with thick white boots and gloves, and a black cap to match. A giant red R was emblazoned on the torso, stretched over the pig Pokémon’s giant bell. The material looked quite shiny and stretchy, too. Was it latex?

Oddly enough, the rest of the Emboar’s body looked just as glossy… though that could have just been a trick of the light.

Not only that… but the bright orange flames around the pig’s neck weren’t moving at all.

In fact, it was totally inanimate.

Trip went to the other side of the glass and waved at the Pokémon. It didn’t even acknowledge him.

Trip looked down; there was a control console in front of him. Old blue displays behind thick glass monitors were full of text that he couldn’t even begin to parse…

“Just what’s goin’ on here?”

He heard a soft clicking sound, and his eyes were turned towards a door leading from the cubicle he was in, into the testing chamber. Was it unlocked?

He wandered over and touched the door. It slid open seemingly of its own accord.

“Awh, cool… an automatic door!” Trip grinned.

He took one sneaky glance over his shoulder before he slipped inside and closed it behind him.

“Oh, Arceus… he actually did it! This is too perfect…”

“Wait for it, wait for it…”

Trip walked up to the Emboar, craning his neck to keep his eyes on its face. The closer he got, the stronger the sweet petrol scent of chemical treatment became. From this close distance, he saw just how shiny and glossy the Emboar’s body was. Not only that, he noticed thin seams around the Emboar’s face as well as one vertical slit that went all the way down its front.

“What is this, some kinda giant pooltoy…?”

Trip poked at the big belly, his head tilted to the side like a quizzical Rockruff. It was as springy and elastic as a pooltoy, but it felt like there was some sort of padding inside it too. He bet it would most definitely float if he threw it in a pool…

That doorway was probably too small to fit it.

He walked around it and kept examining, playing with its squishy-gloved hands, flicking the wreathed flames…

His hand nearly brushed against the massive bulge between the Emboar’s legs. He flinched back from it.

“Wh-where did that come from?” he squeaked, unable to take his eyes off of it. It was so prominent, very immodest, and yet he hadn’t noticed the bulbous round pouch until now…

It was almost as big as his head!

“So… this definitely isn’t a pooltoy for kids…” he said, scratching his chin. “Wonder if there’s a way to deflate this thing… wouldn’t mind taking it home with me.”

“Now.”

A sudden buzzing sound made him leap out of his skin for the third time that day. He looked back where he came from; there was no one inside the control booth, so, where had-?

“REMOTE ACTIVATION CONFIRMED. TEST BEGINS NOW.”

A loud buzzer sounded, making Trip wince. The Emboar suddenly stiffened upright, standing to attention like a shoulder. It towered over Trip. The human turned slowly, whimpering with terror. Its head turned down slowly to look at him, the vinyl skin straining softly as it did so. Then, with creaking, squeaking sounds, the Emboar-golem opened its arms wide. Its face crinkled into a smile, and its mouth opened wide, revealing a glistening, dark, vinyl passageway. The giant belly began to rumble and wriggle, too… was it hungry?

Trip was briefly mesmerised with terror at the sight, before he came to his senses and ran to the door, with the aim to start pounding on it or begging for help. It was only then that he noticed a camera up in the corner in the room. He waved and leapt up and down, frantically flicking his gaze between the camera and the slowly approaching Emboar.

“HELP! You gotta let me out of here!” he yelled out. “This is a mistake! You gotta- GLK!”

Trip didn’t quite know what was happening to him at first - the grip around his body definitely wasn’t one of the Emboar’s meaty paws. It was far thinner, smaller, and more dextrous… and there were several of them, around his wrists, and his torso. They pulled and yanked him to face his attacker, and Trip recoiled with shock.

The tentacles wrapped around him were black as ink, but soft and slightly springy like the inside of a water wing. They were coming from that long seam in its belly, still wriggling and distending. Trip tried to scramble and pull away, but the tendrils tugged him sharply, and gently, as if he was just trying to wander off rather than escape.

“N-Nice Emboar…?” Trip whimpered, smiling nervously. He didn’t have anything else…

The rubbery Emboar opened its mouth wide. Its lips squeaked as they pursed.

“N-nuh uh, I’m not giving you a kiss!” Trip shouted.

The Emboar didn’t react to the human’s yelling. Its snout spewed a mist of grey smoke, like car exhaust, into his face.

The very subtle smell of vinyl was now overpowering - thick and sharp and impossible to ignore.

The sickly sweet scent washed over him, coming from the deepest depths of the construct’s gut and filling the inside of his skull.

Trip coughed, sniffed, and began to feel very strange. He’d never huffed fumes in his life… but he was starting to wonder what he’d been missing. It was hard to breathe anything but that scent, and it seemed to grow even sweeter and headier the more he took in, and the closer he got to the Emboar’s mouth. His head lulled to the side as he faintly realised he ought to hold his breath…but it was too late. Trip was a bit too slow for that, and his wits were only getting slower as the chemical fumes enveloped him and pickled his brain. He groaned dizzily, his eyes getting a little bloodshot and his head slowly pitching from his left shoulder to his right.

“Uhh…” Trip gurgled. “Wha…?”

His struggles grew weaker, more perfunctory, the anaesthetic scent making him feel far too woozy and faint to resist. It was futile. Breathing in the scent was better…

The Emboar smacked its tusked maw and flashed a dazzling grin. The tentacles lifted Trip upwards as they pulled the slit wider, wider… the inside of the Emboar’s gut looked to be that same shiny, soft-looking darkness that he saw in its mouth.

It sort of reminded him of a sleeping bag, come to think of it…

Dazed and dizzy, he began to wonder what it would be like if he were to fall in.

He wasn’t really wondering these things of his own free will. The mind-altering chemicals were seeing to that, nudging his normal thought patterns out of the way and ensuring what was to come would be a pleasant experience…

“Looks like the Hypno-chems are doing the trick...”

“We really should bottle some of it for our next raid.”

“Shh. Here comes the fun bit.”

The smoke still poured from the Emboar’s mouth, and Trip leaned in to take another deep whiff. His eyelids were fluttering, and his body was squirming with pleasure.

He wanted it, too. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more… in fact, he couldn’t think of anything at all. His brains were soup.

The Emboar lifted him up into the air in its squeaky, betentacled vice grip, and its torso opened even wider.

“Wheeee…” Trip giggled, looking down at the vast blackness. It yanked him inside, and he was suddenly smothered in the tightest full-body hug he could ever imagine feeling.

The belly sealed up behind him. He was left in darkness. He could feel the tendrils manipulating him and shifting him around. But no sound was getting into this dark prison of fleshy vinyl. No light, either. He could hear his heartbeat and his blood rushing. Noticing that didn’t do much to knock him out of his stupor…

Though it did make him a little more aware.

His slow resting heart began to beat a little faster.

“Nnnghn…?” he groaned. Something felt wrong… what had he been doing…?

The Red R kept flashing in his mind. As well as all the other places he’d seen it.

R… Team R… Team Rocket!

He was in deep trouble!

He tried to squirm against the tentacles but he felt so… so very weak… they were writhing around him, and he swore something was starting to feel kind of sticky. But he kept trying nonetheless, with what little strength he had. The smell wasn’t that good… he could resist it,

“Hmm. Looks like it’s wearing off a bit quickly.”

“Maybe he’s got a bit more brainpower than we gave him credit for. Hang on, let’s bring out the training video.”

Trip felt himself getting yanked upwards, almost like he was about to get thrown up. The squeezing got tighter and tighter with each push, particularly around his face and neck. His arms and legs were spread wide and held stiff. An aperture opened in front of Trip’s face, and he quickly realised he was looking out of the Emboar construct’s mouth.

The room was glowing red, and the light source was from somewhere behind the Emboar’s back. It slowly turned, lumbering from side to side and rocking Trip back and forth in an oddly soothing hammock-like motion.

As they turned, Trip’s left, then his right eye were glued on to a strange, beautiful sight. One of the walls of this room was one giant screen of its own; formerly white, now swirling with all sorts of pretty shapes and colours. Rings of red and yellow radiated out from the centre, coming from a bright red R that pulsated rhythmically with each new throb.

Trip was mystified by the shapes. His face fell slack and his eyes opened wide. They wouldn’t blink for some time. His pupils vanished and his irises changed to a ruddy red colour. They expanded and shifted in colour… and soon, his eyes matched the hypnotic circles before him. He was already weak from the fumes, but those colours were just too irresistible not to give all his focus to.

Words flashed on the screen, too quick for Trip to catch them. He felt like he should keep staring to catch what they said.

Staring felt nice anyway.

It also made him more willing to enjoy the chemical scent again. It was getting stronger, or at least he was more aware of it now. He was happy to smell it again; why had he been so against it…?

The colours made the smell sweeter. It made the hug of the Emboar’s insides a lot more pleasant and cosy. The more it hugged him, the more he began to feel connected to it. Like his arms and legs were growing thicker and wider… like they were being absorbed into the Emboar’s limbers.

A smile began to spread along his face, as the red colours danced and reflected in his eyes.

He could feel that squishy hugging sensation covering his face too… he couldn’t see, but his skin was gradually turning that same black sheen as the rest of the Emboar’s insides. A nice thin soft layer of vinyl, fusing him into the suit and ensuring there would be no escape.

Not that the idea of escape was even present anymore. The pretty shapes pushed out such silly things. And the R symbol slowly and surely stamping itself inside his mind. His world was falling away.

As he stared and accepted the hypnotic display, Trip was able to read the words more clearly.

YOU

ARE

A

ROCKET

GRUNT

That seemed like it made sense. The colours were pushing the thoughts directly into his mind. He agreed with them, because the colours told him to agree with them. He was a Rocket Grunt. There was no reason to doubt that. It was the truth. His truth.

PROTECT

THE

WORLD

FROM

DEVASTATION

He nodded along obediently. His face was now entirely black, save for his bright swirly eyes and his widening, brilliant white grin.

The words, and the command behind them, embedded itself deep in his head. The scent of the insides of the suit, and the hypnotic colours, saw to that. He faintly remembered hearing this mantra before, this call-sign for Team Rocket whenever they were on a mission. He was going to commit it to memory.

UNITE

ALL

PEOPLES

WITHIN

OUR

NATION

Trip’s smile was wide, mindless, manic. He nodded and squeaked inside the suit. The construct rubbed its stomach, and Trip could feel it against his own belly. He snorted, his rictus grin widening that little more.

Then it went down further to that big round bulge between the legs. It felt so round, so soft and squishy… Trip rubbed and groped it like it was a stress ball, and pushed his hips into it.

The pleasure made it easier for him to keep all of his attention on the screen. Eyes on the prize.

DENOUNCE

THE

EVILS

OF

TRUTH

AND

LOVE

Truth… love…? Pfeh. He didn’t need those things. They were Team Rocket’s enemy. His enemy.

He was a grunt. He would obey these edicts without question. And his masters, too. After all… he was a Pokémon. Pokémon served their masters. He was not a friend. He was a pet. A useful tool.

A Grunt.

EXTEND

OUR

REACH

TO

THE

STARS

ABOVE

Yes… he would help Team Rocket. He would obey Team Rocket. He would do as they commanded. Always in pursuit of Extending their Reach. There was nothing he would be happier doing. Fight. Intimidate. Demolish. Steal. Destroy. All with the help of Emboar.

DING.

The screen suddenly flashed bright red one last time, before instantly going dark. At that second, the mouth closed, and he was bathed in darkness, lit only by the pulse and swirl of his own luminescent eyes.

It wasn’t long before they closed, though.

He slept, wrapped in the vinyl hug, and the motto of Team Rocket… his new masters.

The Emboar slowly turned and walked back to its place in the middle of the room, before its arm shot up to the brim of its cap in a squeaky salute.

As the new Grunt dreamed, he saluted along with the outer shell. Merged with it, one with it, and ready to do whatever it was bid.

“Indoctrination complete… in record time, too! We didn’t even need to show him the mantra a second time…”

“Yeah… he’ll be ready to go to work in no time at all.”

“So… does this mean you’re not gonna punish me for leaving the back door open?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Team Rocket, Blast off at the Speed of Light!”

“Surrender now, or prepare to fight!”

“EMBOOOAR.”

The call-out was a courtesy. The squeaky, surly Emboar charged into the fray, smashing past the front door of the jewellery store. There was nothing stopping it from its destination; it was like a giant squeaky wrecking-ball.

The sounds of the world - the sirens, the yells, the chaos around him… it was all muffled muffled, but the Grunt didn’t mind. The puffy suit did the hearing, the moving, and the thinking for him. He just enjoyed the ride. He could sort of hear the confused shouts turning to screams. He felt firm shapes bouncing off him, accompanied by panicked yells and grunts. He swung out with a puffy arm and sent what felt like 4 bodies flying like they’d skydived onto a trampoline. He had so much momentum now, his legs pumping, the cushioned insides squishing against his face. The bulge was tickled by the inner thighs with every step it took, and it made the Grunt inside squirm with delight and grind against the vac-bed innards. He was almost always grinning, almost always in a state of total, obedient bliss.

His suit opened its snouted mouth, and he could see exactly where they were headed. A big reinforced door. It flew off its hinges, and the giant suit wriggled and squeaked as it fit through a doorway half its size. It deflated slightly to allow this, and Trip felt himself slip and slide a little before it pumped up tight again and squeezed his face.

He ignored the sirens, as did the Emboar suit. They smashed cases, tore apart crates, and began to fling their contents out onto the floor.

Trip forced his head out a little further to get a better look. His eyes still swirled, practically illuminating the dark back room in red, and making all the stocked up rings, bangles, and sundry jewellery glitter like stars.

“Yes… all ours,” Trip gurgled, with a wide manic grin on his face. His arms moved with the Emboar’s, grasping fistfuls of the filthy lucre and pushing them against his big rotund belly. The slit opened, and the tendrils slithered out to pull it inside. Before long, the body was clanking and jingling with every single shake. The Emboar construct, and the brainwashed human inside it, wandered out from the backroom as other Pokémon rushed in with heavy sacks to gather up the loot.

Their human masters were waiting for them outside. Trip knew they’d be so proud of his good, bad work.

“Look at him go…”

“Yeah, he’s taken to the suit really well. They’re hovering at 90 percent synchronicity, and his brainwaves are completely over-ruled…”

“Do you think it’s working cuz he’s an idiot?”

“Nah. I mean, he is an idiot, but the brainwashing doesn’t account for that. His suggestibility quotient is quite high. I bet we’ll have him sticking to 100 percent at all times before long.”

“Just in time for the next heist.”