Duster was starry-eyed, looking at a star.

Or, rather, the star’s Pokemon. Duster was a Minccino; the short, puffed, big ball of fluff was whisked with gray fleecy hair that felt like the soft stuff you’d pick from your dryer’s lint screen. His tail brushed across the floor like an excited Poochyena’s. Stubby, ash-colored paws were cupped beneath his chin, pointing to his mouth and positioned right above his rapidly-beating heart. Duster was staring at Violino.

Lino for short, Violino for long—Lino was a Toxtricity. A purple body—with a cool blue belly and matching stripes, the lizard sat next to Duster on a glossy black leather couch. Both Pokemon were wrapped in a captivating conversation. Duster listened with unblinking eyes. Lino continued his story—quietly—so as not to wake Duster’s sleeping sister who was curled atop an arm of the couch.

“We… once played in Castelia City. Unova, you know…” Lino’s eyes drifted to the side. He wasn’t used to… talking. He wasn’t even part of the band. Lino was the singer’s pet, along with his brother. Twins, they were. But right now, Contrabasso was chilling in the dressing room—separate and out-of-mind.

“You played in Castelia!?” Duster’s voice wobbled with hardly-contained excitement. “You’ve been everywhere! I’m so jealous. You’re so lucky!”

“There’s a lot of traveling,” Lino’s voice rumbled, sounding like a thick-throated frog, “I—uh, thank you.” The electric mane on the back of the lizard’s neck throws a lightning-blue spark across the room as it crackles with nervous energy. The mote of electricity plunks on the carpet, fizzling out harmlessly. Didn’t even burn the carpet.

“What else do you do?” Duster’s tail nearly whacks his sister in the face.

“Not much.”

“What about your brother?”

“He’s…” Lino lets his words trail, rolling in his throat like distant thunder, “...mostly the same.” Lino looks down at the excited chinchilla. The little creature was barely larger than his palm. And yet, he had 10x the energy Lino had. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a generator of sprightliness just rolling away in the little guy’s tummy.

“What’s different?” Came the obvious answer.

“Nothing.”

“You said ‘mostly’. There’s gotta be something!”

“...Nope.”

Duster tilted his head, “but you said—”

“Well—uh, you see—he’s different. Let’s... talk about something else.”

“Okay…” Duster frowned. But he quickly turned that frown upside-down before firing away another question. “Why does Feathers smell like Bass?” Duster said, gesturing towards his snoozing sibling.

“...”

“I didn’t think they were together that long. It’s faint, yeah. But it’s all over her body! You gotta hang around someone a long time for something like that.”

“...”

Duster sensed something was amuck. “You’re awfully silent…” he said, trying to get a good read on the Pokemon. Even when Lino was excited, he looked a little glum. Now, the Toxtricity looked a little different. His mane flared up again. He was nervous—but about what? Was he...

“Are you keeping a secret?” the chinchilla inquired. He didn’t sound nosy, just excited—as if his insight unearthed a buried treasure.

Lino’s great chest rose as he took a deep breath—and sighed. “...yes.” The lizard peeks over Duster, checking to see if his sister was still sleeping. Feather’s eyes were closed shut and her tail twitched. Still in dreamland. Good.
“Let’s… follow me.” Lino said as he discreetly pushed himself off the couch. He called for Duster with a cool flick of his neck. Duster jumped off the couch. Plush carpet cropping up between his toes, Duster followed Lino into the only other private room here: the bathroom.

To get there, they had to go through the dressing room. Bass was getting some shut-eye, napping on a stool—sitting up, mouth open, leaning against a wall. He snored. A bit of drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, hanging like a teardrop pendulum. The pair tiptoed past him. Bass didn’t even stir.

The soft carpet gave way to cold ceramic. Lino’s amphibian feet plopped against the hard tile. Duster’s step was silent. His low weight and soft paws muffled any sound that could’ve come from his gait. A tub was to their right, glistening shiny white. The shower curtain was stained with washed-off hair coloring. To their left, a sink dewed with diamond-dust drops of water. A lidded toilet sulked in the corner of the room.

Lino softly shut the door behind them, holding the handle down so it wouldn’t click upon closing. He turned around; looked down. Duster was already looking up. For a long time, nobody said anything. The silence was palpable. Both the Pokemon could hear Bass’s muted snores next door.

Duster was the first to speak. “So! What’s going on!” The chinchilla quickly rose his hands to his mouth, remembering the other Toxtricity outside. “Sorry…” he whispered, “but really—does Bass have a secret?”

“He…” Lino felt a fire on his cheeks, “...he eats Pokemon.” When Duster’s eyes widen, looking ready to scream, he quickly realized his mistake and hastily amends, “safely! Nobody gets hurt. They say it’s… rather pleasant, actually…” Duster’s eyes stay wide—but with curiosity, not fear. Bass continued. “I’ve never done it myself, but… the Pokemon say it’s like a… hammock. A wet, fleshy, hammock. Echhh…” Lino made a mildly disgusted sound. But Duster wasn’t sure if it was genuine.

“That sounds weird!” Duster shouts the world’s loudest whisper, “but weird is cool.”

“...Excuse me?” Lino gave Duster an unreadable look.

“Cool is weird, so weird is cool! Safely eating Pokemon? That’s beyond weird. So—beyond cool!” Duster bounced up and down, his feet making the faintest of noise. “Can you do it? I wanna see!”

Lino nearly fell backwards, “W-what? I can’t—I mean, I can, but—”

“You can!?”

“No—I—” Lino’s words crumbled when he realized he couldn’t back away from his flubbed line. “Alright. I can. But I can’t. I’ve never done it before… and,” Lino coughed. The sound smacked Duster like the hit of a kick drum. “...Oh fine. I admit it. I’m a little curious too.”

Twitch. Twitch. Duster’s ears wiggled. “It’s on, then?”

“...I guess.”

“You don’t sound sure…” Duster’s smile slipped into worry. But just as quickly it snapped back into a beaming grin. “I get it! You don’t want to be one-upped by Bass!”

“Huh? I don’t think—”

“Trust me. I have a sister. I know how it feels,” Duster’s unbridled energy causes him to rattle with excitement. “If you do the same thing as Bass, he’ll be like, ‘you’re cramping my style’. You’d be a copycat! And—and—”

“And he’d smirk and flaunt how much more Pokemon he’s swallowed than me,” Lino muttered, “and then he’d take a nap.”

“Uh—yeah! Sure!” Duster strolled up to Lino’s knee, placed his paws on the lizard’s legs, and craned his head up to look Lino in the eye. “We gotta do something different!”

Lino looked like he just got hit by a Confuse Ray, “like what? There’s only one way in.”

Duster didn’t even blink. “It all makes sense! Bass is Amped, right? He’s all about the high notes—flashy. Know what else is high up? The mouth!” Duster patted Lino’s leg with his stubby paws, “and you’re Low-key. You’ve got the low notes. Remember what’s low?” The Toxtricity caught on to Duster’s train of thought. Lino’s ever-morose face was graced with a worried rain as he dripped with the storm’s first bead of nervous sweat.

“You ain’t thinking ‘bout there, are you?”

“You bet!”

Lino sighed. “You know it’s crummy in there, right? Aren’t you all about cleaning things up?”

“Sounds like a challenge!”

“...Please, do not clean my ass.”

“That was a joke!” Duster laughed like a bushwhacked squeaky toy, “that’s Feather’s things anyway.”

“Alright,” Lino grumbled. Although, he admittedly was a little excited, “how do we even do this?”

The Toxtricity's stomach was face-down on the chilly white tile of the bathroom. His head craned over his purple shoulder, peering over his back spikes, staring worriedly at the fluffy chinchilla between his legs. Duster’s fluffy ears poked above his buttocks; he felt the chinchilla’s velvety paws resting on his stout, scaly legs. Lino’s body rose and fell as he breathed deep through his nose—the pencil-dot pinpricks that were his nostrils flared—and let it flow out his mouth in a shuddering breath. His warm breath rolled over his tongue, so thick with his apprehension, that he could taste it.

Duster, meanwhile, was having none of this “anxiety business”. He was eager for what was to come: to explore, to try something new! As the feathery-furred rodent sweeped his paws up the Toxtricity’s legs, tracing the natural canyon between the back of his knee—between the tendons—gliding along his thigh up towards the final destination: the scaled, firm, purple cheeks of the punkish lizard. Warm to touch, the minute scales gently scratched across the squishy part of Duster’s paws. As Duster’s paws whisked towards the crack in the middle, the Normal-type was compelled to remember: it felt just like his trainer’s purse. Leather and smooth, soft—and a little bit squishy…

His nose pressed between Lino’s cheeks. Not the most pleasant smell. Earthy, masculine—it was rife with musk and smelled like old underwear. Duster wrinkled his nose; his head retreated. But he was not deterred. Bracing himself against Lino’s muscled derriere, he pushed himself forward. Slowly making progress, Duster’s eyes scrunched to tiny slits and his fluffy cheeks squished into pancakes as his head sunk into the foul-smelling crack. Duster was pretty sure he made this exact silly face when teasing his sister…

The cleft between Lino’s cheeks was slick with nervous sweat, hastening Duster’s progress. A slurk-ing sound licked Duster’s ears as the fluffy round things were pressed back, crammed between two purple canyons. The muscles surrounding Duster’s face rippled as Lino tried not to move—to not clench. The Toxtricity was trying his hardest to let Duster move at his own pace. And he really didn’t want to explain to Bass why he had a chinchilla mushed up in his butt.

Duster’s round face ran into something squishy. It didn’t take a lot of guessing; it was Lino’s anus. An almost sub-sonic groan rumbles from Lino’s throat as Duster’s nose pops into the lizard’s rear port. The squishy orifice clenches and flutters as Duster forces himself in, the lizard growling in limb-shaking desire. The chinchilla’s head was wide—the widest part of his body, in fact. Lino dug his face into the crook of his right arm, trying to muffle his growling, pleasure-soaked moans—so as not to awaken their sleeping siblings. His left hand propped him up, the round fingertips suction-cupped to the floor—lending him a powerful grip so that he could anchor himself to the floor. As his asshole squeezed past Duster’s head, smearing slime over his fur, he instinctively grunted and bucked his hips into the hair—swallowing Duster up past his shoulders in one smooth motion.

Duster was suddenly engulfed. He was lifted off the ground, little legs dangling, and sent head-first into the pipings of the Poison-type. He couldn’t help but yawp; but the small burst of sound was drowned out by the deep, bass-soaked groan that boomed through the tight tunnel.

“Aaagh…” Lino rasped, blushing scarlet red, “ugh…”

Duster wriggled a paw in—rushing to cover his nose. When Duster dared to sneak a sniff, he was surprised. It wasn't the worst smell in the world, but still, it hardly was a pleasant one. Musk and sweat seeded the air; all the fumes melted into a mind-numbing soup, becoming a masculine fog that clouded Duster’s mind. His curiosity wasn’t abated. In fact, he found it burning brighter! His light-sensitive eyes took note of the deep red surface of the lizard’s colon. Slathered in bowel-lubricant slime, the murky conglomerate crept between the creases of his colon and made things as slippery as a slip-'n-slide. The entire chamber convulsed in a sucking, rippling motion as Duster kicked his little legs, slurping himself deeper. Slimy liquids soaked his coat as Lino’s asshole gummed Duster’s belly—before sucking him in with squishy pop!

Lino warbled as Duster was deposited on the plappy floor of his rectum. It was a moderately-tight fit. The Pokemon’s ears grazed the clammy ceiling—and that was while laying down! The punk Pokemon’s heartbeat boomed rapidly as if it was beating along—keeping time with a heavy thrash metal song. His guts and organs grumbled like a displeased audience, talking over each other without rhythm or reason. Unpredictable—one organ groused louder than the rest. Lino’s stomach burbled as it mashed Lino’s supper into unrecognizable sloppy sludge. Thank goodness none of it was here now...

Pricking up, straight as an arrow, Duster’s ears catch the whoosh of wind from Lino’s lungs. The big lizard was catching his breath. His heartbeat began to slow—slightly. Both their hearts were beating fast. It was almost unbelievable! Duster was in Lino! Only his swishing tail hung outside, wriggling from between violet hills.

"You're doing fine back there?" Lino spoke softly, but Duster heard his voice loud and clear, "Duster?"

"Sweeter than an Appletun!" Duster shouted through the hollow, tunneled bowels, "but, uh, it smells… you know…"
Duster saw the bowels stiffen. Lino's voice: "it's not too… funky in there, is it?"

"Nuh-uh. Everything's fine!" The words flew out of Duster's mouth before he even realized what he was saying. The chinchilla crawled a bit forward, scrunching himself low to avoid a murky glob of slime on the ceiling. The moment he began to move, Lino groaned. Duster's tail was sliding through the lizard's backport—and sending an electric jolt of pleasure straight into Lino's veins. The passage convulsed as the reptile involuntarily sucked his belly in, "Wow!" Duster yelped as the floor surged. He rolled, avoiding being slimed in the nick of time—twisting to the side, smushing into wet bowel walls, "be careful! It's a tight fit in here!"

Lino's bowels dropped. "...My bad..."

Hot, moist vapour condenses onto the chinchilla's fur. It was broiling inside Lino's lowest reaches, but Duster thought the heat was somewhat comforting. He'd never been in a sauna. Heck, he barely knew what it was! But being in the oddly calming heat, Duster felt his pulse slow to a crawl; his arms relaxed. Despite the objectively gross world he was in, Duster felt… calm. Still—however—his urge to explore burned like the Pokeathlon torch. The Pokemon shimmied deeper, his body wriggling like a worm as he used his paws to drag himself forward—latching on to the natural ridges in the intestines in order to propel his quickly slime-ening body through the sopping cavern.

Duster's tail flicked when he sensed his center of gravity shift. Slowly but surely, the Toxtricity's innards rolled over like an obedient dog. Duster's paws flashed to the walls looking for handholds. His hands slapped into meat, slimy and slick with goo. There were no handholds; his paws slid right off. Lino was moments away from completing his revolution. The former left wall was the ceiling, the right—the floor. Duster's size couldn't stop himself from smearing along the walls—leaving them sparkling.

Duster's weight hung in Lino's lower gut like an iron ball. The broad-shouldered reptile was face-up, belly in the air. A long groan rumbled in his thick throat when he felt the chinchilla's mass resume crawling through through his guts at an agonizingly slow pace—the vague, rounded bulge snailed along the underside of his stomach. To Lino, it feels like he ate way too much. But—like—the food doesn't want to leave! So much so, it's fighting against the natural flow of his guts—sluggishly clawing its way back to his belly. An odd ticklish sensation followed—Duster's absorbent fur was sweeping Lino's bowels, absorbing the moisture and making them shine.

This is...unusual, Lino thought, Gotta give him credit, though. This feels good. The reptile lets his eyes rest. He hums a quiet moan.

Duster was squashed flat as paper, his soiled fluffy face pressed deep into the oily flesh. Like an earthquake, Lino's grumblings shook the ground and the sound rolled through the torid passage—powerful—like the strum of the lowest note on a bass guitar. Slime slipped off the wall with the sound's vibrations, slopping down upon the Normal-type. But Duster is unfettered! The little Chinchilla was starting to see all of this like a challenge: a trial he wants to overcome! Duster shirked from nothing. That time he wanted to see if he could hold his breath for 101 seconds? He did it—after passing out twice. Or that time he ate every single bite of that terrible "fruit cake" his trainer's friend bought? Turns out, jalapeños are technically fruits. His toungue was burning for days…

A sudden squelch and accompanying pleasured groan sent the passage into a constricting frenzy. A rippling wave hurtled towards Duster. Closing his eyes and holding his breath, he let the wave of squashing muscle fly by. His ears plastered against his sopping, fluffy head while his body was hugged as tight as his trainer's monster-snuggles. When it was all over, Lino's booming hum filled the catacombs again. Duster scooched forward, holding a lungful of musky fumes tight in his chest. His oversized ears were too big to fit in the bend ahead of him; the rims of his ears dragged along its surface, goo-ifying the white splotches tipping his ears. Duster didn't care. He knew he was getting a bath anyway.

Duster came across a vertical shaft, the colon passage bending up 90 degrees. Duster sighed, slapped on a determined frown, began his gradual ascent. His paw instantly sunk into the squishy wall like it was a bean-bag. The Pokemon pulled himself forward; his face glided millimeters from the hot, slickened walls. His other paw hooked onto the vertical colon's indented surface. He pulled himself up; his soft belly smeared against the colon. His supernaturally absorbent coat sucked up the grime like a Magic Erase. And yet, his belly still looked like a massive Stoutland just slobbered all over him. His coat had already begun to take on Lino's bowels' scent. Lino's guts shuddered as Duster hoisted his whole weight using the intestines' walls. Meanwhile, the reptile grumbled like a rumbling boulder, his subsonic voice sending tremors through Duster's bones. The passage constricted, cleaning itself but sullying the chinchilla, kneading—milking the tiny thing as he continued to climb.

Eventually, Duster peeked above the grease-slicked lip of the intestinal cliff. With a squeak, he heaved himself onto the horizontal fleshy flooring. He was getting closer to the end of the rear end. Or would it be the start? The "beginning of the rear end"?

He shook his head like a wet Yamper. He continued on, not bothering to avoid the drooling walls. At this point, the only relatively clean part of his body was his head. His fur was sticking up at odd angles, glued by fluids and grime. He was sure if his trainer could see him now, she'd either shriek—or think he got blasted by a Water Gun.

Duster was staring over the edge of another deep drop. This time, getting down was easy. There was only an oddly-colored puddle of liquid that gathered at the bottom of the shaft. Once he made it down, he saw his next goal: a tightly-sealed pucker of pink muscle that locked him away from his next venture in the Toxtricity's body: his small intestine. Right as he made it down, a small deluge of liquid poured out, splashing him in his face as he shut his eyes tight. One grimy paw wipe later, he looked toward the sphincter—one eye still splashed with liquid, closed—before trying to force his way through. Lino jumped as Duster pressed his noggin against the small intestines' entrance. But tried as he might—he was too big to fit inside.

“Tiny fella,” the lizard’s voice boomed around him, his guts shuddering with the shockwave of his voice, “everything… okay in there?” Lino wavered mid-sentence; he couldn’t imagine the reaches of his guts to be pleasant.

“I wanted to go deeper!” Duster shouted through burning air, “but I’m too big…”

“Deeper!?” Lino's bowels lurched, popping Duster in the air. He slides down the tight tube, landing with a splat.

"Yeah! It sounded fun!" Duster wriggled his legs and tail; he was still upside-down. "it was kinda cool, seeing how deep I could go…"

Lino sucked his breath, "Duster," he half-mumbled, half-pleaded, "we gotta put a cap on this. You… oughta pull a u-turn and start, um, trekking back… up?" The lizard looked confusingly at his gut. Right around the last bend, Duster's bulge vanished from his belly—melting into his round blue belly. From an outsider's perspective, they'd never have known a ball of wringing-wet lint was resting in his colon.

"Fine…" Duster yielded. He reluctantly began wriggling again, swishing his body around like a barkeep's rag in a shot glass. A bassy grunt rocked Duster’s world as the soggy walls jitter and hug him, smearing the chinchilla with watery slime. Duster felt the hot cavern shakily lift up and slowly back down—as if the reptile’s hips rose and fell. Duster didn’t pay much mind to that, however, as he quickly realized: he couldn’t flip himself rightside-up!

“Um, Lino…” Duster said, bunched up in an awkward position—butt in the air, “small problem, here…”

"I can't believe this…" Lino's guys squished around Duster, making a noise that was reminiscent of fish slopping around in a barrel. The Toxtricity was staring down his reflection in a dust-touched bathroom mirror. He let his gaze slip down to his rumbling tummy, "what… am I going to do…?"

"Don't get your tail twisted in a knot!" Duster pushed against the colon walls, "I'll be out anyway—eventually!"

"...Oh, why did I agree to do this…"

“Quit being so negative!” Duster wriggled once more. Lino sucked in his breath and bit his bottom lip, trying to hide the signs that the little Pokemon inside of him felt… good. But nothing got past Duster! The colon still squashed around him. And the little moan that Lino thought was imperceptible, came through loud and clear to Duster. Once the soggy chinchilla was finished being chewed on by gummy walls, Duster smirked. “See! I knew you liked it!”

“Uh? No—”

He pouted. “Don’t fib to me, Lino! C’mon! Have some fun!”

Lino looked down at his talkative stomach. Duster’s words blended with the burblings of his belly. And his bright voice, its soundwaves shook his guts just a tiny bit, tickling his body with little tremblings of pleasure. Lino sucked on his inner cheek. Jumping Jumpluff! He thought, this feels good...

Eeep! Lino spied the head of a little pink something peeking from between his legs. No, no, no! He can’t be getting steamy from all this! How embarrassing! How—!

Lino audibly moaned as Duster revved up his wriggling once again. The Toxtricity’s hand slapped on the sink counter. His guts clenched; his member began sliding out like the head of a curious turtle. A sudden kick from Duster’s paw bounced off the intestinal wall, locking Lino’s lungs as he tried to swallow his whine of delight. His penis, now on full display, bounced as he tensed his loins. This is horrible! The lizard perked up. He heard giggling from inside his belly. His cheeks flushed red. Is he doing this on purpose!?

The Toxtricity gasped as the ball of fluff in his guts continued to squirm. Goodness, he really is doing this on purpose. Lino shamefully stared down his sizable embarrassment. He turned around, letting his back face the mirror, resting on the sink counter. His shaking hand dove down. He gripped his member, the shaft cupped in his hand. His fingers flicked around the inward-facing, sloped ridges that striped the top shaft. After a long, hot, steaming breath—Lino began to rub.

First, it started slow. Careful, tentative caresses that tested the waters. He grunted softly, letting his belly roll over the lively bulge inside of him. He felt his muscles squeeze over Duster, pinning him between smushing walls, before dropping him—letting him splat back to the bottom of the fleshy shaft. He did it again, listening closely to make sure Duster was truly okay with his current predicament. When he didn’t hear a peep of resistance, Lino let out a breathy, lust-soaked sigh. Once again, he let his belly roll—thrusting outward, pumping his crotch and chest forward in a waving motion. A guttural noise crackled in his throat like a burst of low radio static. He started to speed up…

Duster smirked a wild smile; Lino was finally learning how to have fun. The slimy surface of the colon around him was squashing him in the slimiest, squishiest hug the world has ever seen. Liquid dribbled down the back of his head like syrup on pancakes as the walls came mashing in a regular rhythm. His pudgy cheeks pressed up towards his eyes; his body waggled like a high-tempo metronome. Each time his weight slammed into the touchy walls, Lino grunted like a Taurus. Duster could feel Lino’s racing heart pounding through the walls, hear his blood rushing through his veins. He sensed himself rock forward as Lino rocked his hips forward in a pelvic push. Listening closely, he could even hear the plap of his hand as it collided with the bottom of his shaft. The rhythmic squashing and rolling of his guts grew faster. Duster was abused by the walls, nearly being flattened into a puffy pancake—but he didn’t care! In fact, even he was getting a bit flustery too!

Faster, faster, faster! Duster was being swung back-and-forth with Lino’s full-on thrustings. The walls were clenching harder, growing tighter, tighter, tighter until they jammed in all at once—compressing Duster into a round ball of moistened fluff. Lino was breathing hard; his hips were shaking. He croaked, shuddered, and yelped a sharp gasp right before everything went loose—letting up. Duster flopped back to the ground while the intestines gently throbbed. Lino’s lungs sucked air in-and-out as the lizard caught his breath.

Once finished, Lino grumbled, “...what a mess…”

Grumbling and groaning, Lino's organs whined while Duster was systematically processed by the Toxtricity's winding colon. Still backwards, he sat still as stone. The colon's grip pulsed and squeezed the chinchilla as it kneaded the lump of fluff that was the Pokemon—playing with him, squishing him all around.

An hour crawled past. Lino kept looking at the door. His imagination was running wild. Time and time again, he saw the door open. Bass stepped out, leaned against the wall and asked what he was doing. But no matter what excuse Lino flubbed—Bass knew. Lino imploded from embarrassment.

He dropped his head to his growling gut. Taking a rubbery hand, he gently rubbed his lower stomach trying to pinpoint Duster's location. He might not have seen him, but by goodness he felt him. He still hung in the hammock of his intestines, an iron ball that made Lino feel bloated—and a little queasy. He wasn't sure if the queasiness came from worry or an upset tummy…

Two hours more. During that time, Lino's fears came true. Bass did come a-knocking. But unlike in his day-nightmares, his brother didn't give a Rattata's arse about why he was in the bathroom. He just asked him to leave. Lino uncharastically rushed away.

He took solace on the couch, next to the still-sleeping Feathers. He stood stock-still, but Feathers's nap didn't last too much longer anyway. She murmured and stirred and was greeted into the waking world by a watery growl of Lino's belly.

"Lino…?" She said, rubbing the crust from her eyes with the back of her paws.

"...!" Lino hadn't dared say a word—lest he accidently expose himself. He tried to act natural.

"Why do you look like you've seen a Ghastly?" Feathers crawled closer. Lino wanted to sprint away. But he knew he wasn't the fastest Pokemon. Sadly, his species wasn't exactly born to run.

Feathers squinted in worry. She came closer—and hopped on his belly.

"Are you okay, Lino?" Her twinkling voice was high and cute—even when soaked in concern, "you've got some sort of weird lump in your belly…"

Duster was in a slide—one of those tubular ones you'd find in a waterpark. There was the "water" that oozed past him, lubing him up and flowing down the middle of the tunnel like a trough. The whole place gently bobbed up and down, synced with his breathing. With the warmth and the rising-and-falling, Duster felt like he was outside—cuddled in his trainer's arms and snoozing on her chest. Or maybe he was an apple—bobbing in a barrel of water. After all the excitement earlier, Duster was feeling the familiar tickle of sleep. His eyes fluttered, his nose sniffled...

His ears flittered. He heard Feathers…

And then suddenly a large weight crushes him from above, collapsing the tunnel he broiled in.

"Are you okay, Lino?" Feathers said.

Oh, Feathers...

It was finally time. Feathers was attempting smalltalk with Bass; he humored her. The conversation was rather one-sided, but it provided an ample distraction for Lino to slip away back into the bathroom. Waddling like a purple penguin, he cracked open the wooden door and surveyed the mellowed yellow-white interior of the restroom—with a scant one exception: the bathtub—piercing white. Lino felt a wriggling, heavy pressure knocking on his backdoor. He sighed. To think—even after his trainer taught him to use the toilet—he was going to do his business in a bathtub…
From every which way, Duster was surrounded by Lino's tight walls. He was packed in a tight tube that quivered and clenched, smearing slime in Duster's fur whenever the greased walls crushed in. Duster allowed his face to press up against the wall; he didn't have much of a choice. There wasn't much room to move in the tight quarters. Baking at the very end of Lino's digestive system, Duster was in an oven: a hot, reasonably smelly, oven. And it was so dark. Someone forgot to turn on the oven light...

Duster snapped his train of thought back on the rails. Another slobbery, clenching hug from the walls around him left him dripping. He really wished he was smaller. He didn't expect the end of his journey to be so… smelly.

A shimmering pulse ran from the chinchilla's toes up past his head. The grimy walls wrung him. A thundering, close-mouthed mmmph… boomed from the smelly sky. Lino clenched his abs, crunching his guts. Duster's body peeled from the walls with a sound like a suction cup, sliding downwards with all the speed of a dribbling egg yolk. Slowly he fell, sinking…

…Sinking…

…

…

…A puzzling squishing sensation squashed over his feet before spreading to his torso. He felt like he was toothpaste being squeezed past the tiny hole at the end of the tube. The wet walls hugged him as the stinking chamber smashed in. His waterlogged fur squished down as the coarse walls continued to crumple; wringing out the waters stored in his fur. The binding pressure of the Pokemon's asshole traveled up to Duster's chest. His lower body wobbled in the air, hanging loosely from the squatted Pokemon's cheeks. Another grunt—heavier this time. The flesh around Duster converged simultaneously, shunting him out with a callous push that sent him flopping to the floor with a splat.

Lino didn't waste a second before turning on the shower. Warm shower water pelted Duster, batting the yuck away. Already, the stream was washing away some of the slime that was weaved into his fur.

"Duster!" The chinchilla opened his eyes. Lino was staring at him wide-eyed.

"...Never again." Lino said simply. "You need a bath."