Acclimatized
A shortish, more atmospheric piece. I don't know that I'd call it a pleasant piece overall, which doesn't usually suit the type of stuff I gravitate towards both reading and writing, but I still had the urge to write it. Funny thing about urges...sometimes the ones that just niggle at you for a long time are stronger than the ones that come full-force only briefly.
OBLIGATORY CONTENT WARNING: This story contains sexual acts between two males, rough sex and other harsh treatments, major power imbalances, and a bit of what one might call Stockholm Syndrome.
The trainer ran from the jet of flames that chased her, almost catching her but stopping just short. She obviously hadn't been expecting the fight she'd gotten, not from a little Charmander. He could see it in her eyes, she had expected him to be an easy catch, a simple conquest that she would use to further her own ambitions. When he had swiftly knocked out each of her Pokémon, though, she had wisely chosen to run rather than pursue the matter further. A good thing, too; he was more than ready to get much more dangerous with anyone who tried to mess with him.
He wasn't about to be any trainer's plaything. Not now...he was much more than that. He was free, he was strong, and his life was the wild. But he had to dare them, to continue to prove himself...that was what Gabite demanded, to drive the humans away from his territory and show that he was worthy.
He still remembered what he used to be like: a softer, pudgier specimen, a lab Pokémon made for giving out to a young trainer, naïve about the world and foolishly thinking he was something special because of his purpose. Back then he'd dreamed of the person who he would be given to, and what kind of travels they might have together, never once wondering about what might happen it the hands of someone inept or abusive. He often wandered away from the lab, never imagining that something might happen to him.
And of course, something did. The Gabite, a feral beast who refused to be claimed by a trainer, catching him unaware and easily overpowering him. He could tell what Charmander was, and loathed him for it, beating him and raping him, deaf to his cries and pleas...at first it seemed that he simply wanted to make Charmander suffer, that he was simply a symbol of a world he hated. It was a waking nightmare for him, with every moment being either terrorized or hoping for a rescue which never came.
However, it wasn't long before something changed...anger seemed to shift to disgust, Gabite still seeing him as something lesser...but something with potential. And the tenor of the abuse changed, subtly but unquestionably; the beatings and sexual abuse became less about inflicting damage and more about toughening up, and when they weren't happening Gabite was forcing him to work, throwing him into danger and making him have to train himself if he wanted to get out. He was provided food and water and shelter only if he earned it, and that seemed entirely up to Gabite's whims; sometimes he seemed to arbitrarily decide that he hadn't, making him scrounge for his own.
It was harsh and brutal, and he lost track of the days that he spent enduring the treatment. Yet, as time had passed, his own demeanor had changed as well...his tears dried up, his cries silenced, and with seemingly no alternative, he slowly and reluctantly accepted his new life. Protests about his treatment ceased as he learned the futility of words, and instead he put his energy towards learning how to overcome the harshness - finding ways to get enough to eat, to defeat foes he was forced to fight, to learn tricks for surviving.
He didn't realize it at first, but Gabite's mindset started to become his own. Perhaps he felt a lingering betrayal at his apparent abandonment, but he began to see being "trained" as a dirty word, a place of weakness, and returning to that world turned from an escape into a threat. And Gabtie had become less a monster than his master, the one who had to and should be obeyed, whose desires were foremost and decisions final, but who was the key to his survival and growth. And as time had passed and these feelings grew and solidified, Gabite had started to treat him differently as well. There wasn't warmth or compassion, nor an elevation of his status - that simply wasn't his way - but there was some hint of respect, of acknowledgment of his growth. He seemed to start orienting his dominion over Charmander less towards a forced growth through pain and suffering and more towards challenging him with the expectation that he wanted to grow.
And so it had gone, for quite some time...he no longer kept track, it was pointless, the days didn't matter, only the seasons did. And the effects were unquestionable; were it not for being the same species, he would have scarcely resembled his old self in any way. His once-soft body was now tough, lean and toned, the chubbiness purged and replaced with muscle, built for speedy blows but with unmistakable power behind them. His claws and fangs were longer and sharper, and his tail flame was more robust than any Charmander's he'd ever seen. The confused, naïve blankness in his eyes was long gone, a steely and active sharpness in its place, keenly aware of all his surroundings.
His duties satisfied, he returned to the den where Gabite lived. The eyes were on them the moment he entered, and he knew it; everything he was, Gabite was ten times more. Certainly partly because of his draconic heritage, but he was a work beyond normal himself, a terror who could easily take down nigh anything he laid eyes on. Only rarely did Charmander see him fight - more often he would hear it, or just know by the weight in the air - but Gabite always came back without so much as a scratch. Charmander couldn't say the same for himself...but of course that would be true. That was why Gabite was the master. He was simply superior.
Gabite needed no report from him; the ground itself always told him the tales that needed to be told. There was no smile, there was never a smile, but the eyes held a glimmer of satisfaction, a glimmer he drank in greedily, without ever outwardly acknowledging it. Gabite didn't care about him, but his approval meant no punishment, potentially providing rewards of food and shelter, though this was entirely at whim and never a guarantee. But the lack of punishment was enough for Charmander; he had become more than adept at satisfying his hunger, and the nights were rarely harsh and intolerable now.
Gabite stepped forward then, revealing a harsh erection, red and violent, studded with fleshy spikes, and of fearsome size to the fire lizard. There was no hesitation as he turned around and bent over, presenting himself to his master. He could hear the dragon step behind him, lean over him, clawed fins on either side of him, a warning not to try to escape, though by now he never even entertained the thought. Then he plunged in harshly, not giving him even a tease to prepare him before burying his comparatively huge dick fully into Charmander's tailhole. He drew a deep breath inward, ignoring the discomfort at the sudden filling and rapid subsequent thrusting; by this point it was very familiar for him, the pain having long since left the act through his continual denial to acknowledge it.
Early on he'd reviled this, hated what it reduced him to, but those days were long gone. Charmander now looked back on those days with scorn at his frail earlier self; his perception of agony and torment was, to him, just another sign of his former weakness. Gabite's approach hadn't changed - he was as rough and domineering as ever - but his own most certainly had, now he would eagerly give himself to his master, revel in the power that coursed through him as he did. It was another thing that he had learned - the tool that had given pain could just as easily give great pleasure, and he had trained himself so as to deny the pain, to cast it away, leaving only something desirable, something wanted. It mattered most that Gabite had his pleasure, but this was far better accomplished when he was able to urge him on rather than try to escape.
Indeed, he himself grew stiff as Gabite ravaged him, his master taking all that he desired out of him but giving him something in return with the brutal hammering of his prostate. Every part of his body was aflame with the treatment, his type responding as its wont to the grounded nature of his taker. It had him throbbing, shaking, desiring to beg for release and seeding, but he remained silent - his master didn't care for begging, he didn't want or need to hear him. All he wanted was release, and Charmander was simply the best tool for that.
That massive dick pounded harder, the spikes raggedly rampaging through his hole, guttural growls emitted from the fanged maw of the dragon. He was close, Charmander knew full well, he rarely lasted long in his fucking, he didn't want to put off the pleasure of his climax any more than necessary. Charmander's was also coming quickly, the extreme sensitivity bringing him rapidly to bear even from a cold opening. He didn't bother holding it back either - the one thing he knew Gabite enjoyed was forcing his bitch to seed before he did.
And so he did, allowing that relentless dragon dick to bring him to his peak, jets of hot liquid splashing out onto the ground below him. Each thrust set another jet out, forcing him to spurt more and more; before he would scarcely manage for a few seconds, but now he kept up much longer, up until the point where Gabite snarled loudly and lodged himself deeply into Charmander, firing off round after round of gritty seed deep into him. The feeling of being filled so always had a peculiar effect on him, reinforcing his status as a subordinate, a weak male, deserving to be used for such a purpose...especially after he had given up his own orgasm earlier, had been emptied of his own worthless seed and bearing only the mark of a more powerful creature. Strangely, this thought didn't bother him; he saw it as natural, and perhaps when Gabite had had enough of him, he would go out on his own and find another weak Pokémon upon whom he would take that role...or fall into the hands of another powerful one who would use him the same. That was the way of nature, after all.
There was little more than a few shuffles and pants as Gabite pulled out of him, and then shuttled off to another part of the den, laying down and quietly curling up to sleep. Such was a cue to Charmander that he would be allowed to stay for the night - if he wasn't, Gabite would've actively forced him out. The presence of a few small berries on the ground was also for him; they were dirty, but he would eat them anyway, the dirt was Gabite's essence and he and more than gotten used to it by now.
He made quick work of them and then shuttled off to the other side of the den, far away from Gabite, covering up his tail to reduce any stray light which might disturb his master. The morning would likely bring another day of trials, with no clear guesses as to whether he would succeed or fail...but either way, he would continue to give everything for Gabite. Until the dragon was finished with him, that was his purpose, and he had accepted it. Nothing else mattered.