Evening. Hiyori Town Farm.
Wade surveyed the modest haul of ingredients spread across the kitchen counter—a testament to a bachelor farmer's pantry. With a sigh, he leaned into the living room doorway.
"Alright, what does everyone want to eat?"
"Maaaster~" A languid, honeyed whisper drifted back to him almost immediately. "Is there anything… big and hard to eat?"
On the living room sofa, Ms. Gardevoir—fully in her Pokémon Girl form—had turned to face him. Her gaze was glazed, a single, slender finger resting against her lips. A trail of crystalline saliva had escaped the corner of her mouth, tracing a damp, gleaming path down her chin and making the snowy fabric over her chest cling even more revealingly.
"I'm so hungry~ I want to be… filled quiiickly—"
"That's enough out of you."
Before she could elaborate, Wade reached into the fridge, produced a freshly baked baguette, and unceremoniously plugged her soft, mischievous mouth.
"Mmph—! Gllrk!"
Ms. Gardevoir choked, her eyes widening. She knelt on the cushions, her mist-like white tulle skirt doing little to obscure the graceful curves beneath. The hem had ridden up, offering a tantalizing glimpse of her calves, sheathed in sheer white stockings. As she began to work on the formidable loaf, her motions grew increasingly… vigorous.
Soon, the corners of her eyes were tinged red. Her lips, slick with saliva, glistened like overripe cherries. With each forceful swallow, the toes of her stockinged feet curled and clenched against the sofa's leather, a silent, frantic percussion.
Hopeless. This girl is utterly, completely hopeless, Wade thought, massaging his temples with a sigh of long-suffering affection.
"Ugh…"
While Ms. Gardevoir engaged in her… unique dialogue with dinner, Miss Lopunny sat rigidly on a nearby chair, her face the color of a steamed berry. Sister Gardevoir… why does she look so… so…
Perhaps still smarting from being called a 'child' earlier, Miss Lopunny had, upon returning to the cabin, gathered her courage and shifted into her own Pokémon Girl form. The transformation bewildered her. In her heart, she felt timid, delicate, a little clumsy. Yet her body manifested as this… this bunny girl, all exposed skin and suggestive curves barely contained by scraps of lace.
She tugged nervously at the hem of her perilously small tube top, her long legs—encased in hip-high black stockings—pressing tightly together. Just that slight movement sent a wave of warmth through her, a sensation only amplified by the broken, pleasurable sounds coming from the sofa.
Is it… really that enjoyable? To be… fed like that?
Watching Ms. Gardevoir tilt her head back, throat working with a look of blissful strain, Miss Lopunny found herself unconsciously licking her own lips.
"Our options," Wade announced, having officially given up on getting a sane answer from his Psychic-type, "are a bag of noodles, some discount rice from town, or a cut of Veluza meat." He turned his hopeful gaze to the flustered bunny girl. "Miss Lopunny? Any ideas?"
"Eh?!"
Startled from her trance, Miss Lopunny jolted upright. The sudden movement had consequences. Two generous mounds of snow-white softness bounced free, completely escaping the inadequate confines of her lace tube top, which now sat bunched uselessly around her waist.
"A-ah—!!"
Her face, already flushed, now burned as if set aflame. Her small hands fluttered helplessly—should she cover her scarlet cheeks or the suddenly damp, aching heat between her thighs? In her panic, she froze entirely, a perfect picture of overwhelmed mortification.
"M-Mas…ter…?" she stammered, the blush spreading like wildfire from the tips of her long ears down to her collarbone. The soft, trembling plea in her voice was utterly devastating.
"..."
Wade's throat went dry. The living room's chandelier cast a warm glow over the scene, highlighting the full, peachy curve of her waist and the long, elegant lines of her legs. The black silk of her stockings hugged her skin perfectly, the delicate lace at the very top of her thighs curling slightly under its own weight, revealing a strip of pearl-like skin that seemed even more intimate for being partially concealed.
And then there was the main attraction: the twin peaks of pale, trembling flesh now fully exposed to the warm air, standing proud and utterly free.
"You'll catch a cold," Wade said, his voice strangely hoarse. He stepped forward, and with a gentleness that belied the electric tension in the room, he carefully gathered the bunched fabric and pulled her tube top back into place, his knuckles unavoidably brushing against heated, silken skin in the process.
"..."
The sensation of being… re-contained sent a final, dizzying shock through Miss Lopunny's system. She stood perfectly still, eyes wide and unseeing, as if the simple act of being covered had short-circuited her completely.
"Wuwuwu…"
Tears of sheer, overwhelming embarrassment welled in her large amber eyes. Her face was so red it seemed to glow.
Tube top… slipped… exposed everything… 'catch a cold'…
Ahhhhhhh! Why is my body so shameless?! I'm clearly… I'm clearly…!
Seeing the bunny girl on the verge of a full-system meltdown, Wade could only reach out and pat her head with a mixture of pity and profound understanding. Some battles, he knew, could only be weathered in silent, supportive solidarity.
For a Pokémon whose nature was gentle and delicate, suddenly having such an outrageous and sensitive form exposed before her Trainer was, understandably, a profound shock.
"If you can't decide, I'll just take charge," Wade said, his voice softening. He glanced from the bunny girl on the verge of a shyness-induced shutdown to Ms. Gardevoir, who remained on the sofa wearing a dazed, insatiable smile, and released a quiet sigh. These restless Pokémon Girls were a constant, delightful trial.
Returning to the kitchen, he began arranging ingredients on the worn cutting board with practiced efficiency.
Scallions, ginger, garlic. A full bottle of oil. A clutch of eggs. The treasured bottle of cooking wine. A small dish of salt. Five long, crimson peppers. And the star: a portion of discount Veluza meat, still wrapped in crinkling plastic.
Most were mere seasonings. The true protagonists were the eggs and the peculiar, pink-tinged fillet.
Wade picked up the wrapped meat, thoughtful. This wasn't the ordinary fish of his old world. Veluza meat was, technically, excess—shed by the Pokémon itself to streamline its body for hunting. In Paldea, it was often simmered into broths, prized for its silky, clean flavor.
But…
"What about spicy stir-fried Veluza slices?" he pondered aloud, then, as if sensing a presence, turned his head. "Would that work?"
"Huh?!"
Miss Lopunny, who had just tiptoed into the kitchen doorway, froze, caught. She hadn't expected to be discovered so quickly.
"O-okay…" she managed after a beat, nodding with a face that rivaled the red peppers on the counter.
The… noises from Ms. Gardevoir in the living room had become unbearable, a constant, provocative reminder of her own earlier humiliation. The kitchen had seemed a sanctuary. Now, standing mere feet from the very source of her turmoil, she wasn't so sure.
One of the architects of her embarrassment was right here.
Yet, as she watched his focused profile, a traitorous thought unfurled. He is my Master… so maybe it wasn't so bad that he saw… everything? The rationalization did little to calm the frantic flutter in her chest, a rhythm mimicked by the anxious tremble of the softness beneath her lace top.
I feel like I'm about to become something terrible—
"Then it's settled."
Wade gave a firm nod, mercifully not scrutinizing her feverish expression. With approval granted, dinner plans solidified.
Of course, the ones only responsible for eating had it easy. Wade, now wielding a chef's knife with quiet authority, had to consider everything: the timing of the oil, the measure of salt, the precise heat, the critical seconds of cooking.
He ran through the steps once in his mind—a silent rehearsal. Then, with a decisive tap of his palm on the counter, the knife leapt into his grip. Its cold steel flashed, poised above the lineup of crimson peppers.
"So amazing…"
The bunny girl, having found a sliver of composure, brought a hand to her lips, her amber eyes wide with genuine wonder as she watched the culinary performance begin.