Disclaimer: I don’t own this Pokégirls business. It’s all owed to the wonderful people over on the Yahoo Group, in which this story is posted. Credit is due to where it should be. Metroanime, Kerrik, Alzrius, all those guys that helped me put this world together. To the new people I really don’t know either. The nature of this story would be about a NC-17 perhaps. Nothing beyond subtle. I apologize if you’re here to fap. Please send me feed back at
Your Life Plans
By The Sax
You have a plan for your life. You get up each morning and think to yourself that you’re going to be the very best, that no one ever was. You’re the top of the class, the star athlete, and pretty good looking to boot. You’re little miss popular at your school, and while someone in Veridick couldn’t give a damn about your self-important plans to go to school and become the next greatest doctor researching threshold cures or something like that, you know you’re on the right track.
You wrote all that in your essays and told scholarships that you would fulfill your promise. It’s hard to convince them because girls are a big risk to fund for school. You might get through high school, maybe not. That money you spent would might as well been spent on a dead man.
So you push on. You get a rejection letter from the Giovanni Foundation, and the WAPL Grants tell you that you are “young, bright, and upstanding, “ but at the same time they admit they can’t give any money to you based on your report on lineage.
The Pokégirl Research Association, or the PoGRA Grant as you like to call it, sends you a manila envelope. You see the big folder and feel you’re finally getting somewhere, but when you open it, you are only to discover it says the same thing everyone else said. “The competition was fierce this year, and while you were certainly considered, we could not bring to choose you.” It’s the same story as all the rest of them.
You snort and stuff the letter in your rejection folder, thinking when you one day make it, you’ll look up all the return mail addresses and write some scathing letter about how women are so undervalued in this society.
You don’t give up hope though and you keep on asking for money. Your parents are optimistic at best, and they don’t stop you, but in your heart you’re consumed with doubt. Your mother is a wildcat, your father is a gruff retired tamer that now works as a sales manager for Silph Corp.
Your father met with a travelling salesman back when he was traveling around. The guy was about to bite it, or rather be bitten by a nasty run-in with a feral Buzzbreast. They kept up and when your father finally said, “I’m too old for this shit,” his old friend from Silph offered him a job.
Turns out the guy sold more than anyone else in the field by telling his customers the wild story about a Buzzbreast getting walloped by a ferocious little kitten. His story telling skills got him a cushy job in Headquarters, and he didn’t want to leave your father out.
Your father declined of course, hence why you never got to live in Veridick. He says he doesn’t do well with city folk and prefers the job he did accept, which was running around the pokécenters in the rural regions to make sure they’re supplied. He says the Nurse Joys are cuter there.
You, though, feel gypped. You got to go to a small school house where every year you felt the female class population got exponentially smaller. Not a lot of younger girls came in, and all the old ones – well you know.
You had a good friend though. She was really nice. Gold curls, freckled nose, the whole lot of summery goodness in someone you can call a friend. Her name, ironically enough, was Winter. She was 5 years older than you, but she didn’t care. As girls you, stick together – regardless of age.
Winter disappeared one day and you never heard much else. You were still 13, so you only figured it was illness at first. You thought you’d pay her a visit if she didn’t come back to school after a week, but your teacher Mrs. Honeysuckle told you and the other girls to avoid Winter. She was dangerous now, whatever that meant.
When you realized Winter was never coming back, you decide to dedicate your life to curing this thing called “threshold.” After all, you’re the smartest girl in your grade and Winter always liked that fact about you.
Of course Clyde never helped you study. Why? Because Clyde is a jerk, and despite being 2 weeks older than you, he lazily hung onto you like a slowboob. Gods, what a bother.
Your mother tells you to be nice to him, but it’s hard. He’s kinda dumb, so he never gets the idea you don’t want him around, and you can’t bring yourself to tell him to go away either, since you feel sorry that he doesn’t have any other friends.
He invites you over every few days. He asks you, “hey, can you help me with tomorrow’s homework?” or “You , uh, want some cookies? Mom said she’s makin’ em today.”
You figure cookies are a just payment, so you usually go. Clyde’s mom is the best baker in town. She’s a titmouse, so she doesn’t do much besides cooking and cleaning – like most titmice. You don’t say that to her though, not that she probably minds too much. You can tell she loves baking cookies by how she hums to herself and how her tail twitches around excitedly as she bakes in the kitchen.
Clyde though is still dumb. He always will be.
So you wake up in the morning. You go to school. You say hi to your friends. You try to withstand Clyde’s invitation, but you fail. You go to Clyde’s house, and his mother smiles as she sees you come over.
“Hey there hun, thanks for looking after my boy,” she says. She loads a sheet of cookies into the oven and twirls around to look at you. “I’d help him study, but I’m afraid I’m no better at this stuff than him.” She giggles cutely and lets you two get to work.
The cookies are delicious, just the way you like them. Chewy, but not rubbery or anything, no one can match them in quality. Clyde’s still dumb though. You get a headache after trying to tell him how square roots work. He’s just that stupid.
You grab a cookie and bite into it, savoring the sweet taste of sugar and cinnamon before going back to telling him, the square root of 36 can easily be worked out by finding all the basic divisible numerals, which in this case are 3, 3, 2, and 2. Clyde obsesses over how 1 is a dividend, to which you tell him to stop obsessing over how 1 is its own square root. See? He’s really dumb.
You groan.
You get home later that day, and do a face plant into your bed. Your mom knows you’re frustrated with Clyde, because he’s an idiot, and so she tries to cheer you up. Of course, your mom is a wildcat, and really her way of solving problems tend to defy your sense of decency.
“Have you tried sleeping with him?”
You take a pillow and cover your head. Your mom is useless when it comes to handling boys... especially Clyde.
You don’t get much more luck when it comes to schooling. You keep at it, but you realize it’s just not going to happen. Most of the money people give to women for schooling trickles in after you’re 20 or something, when you’re no longer in danger of thresholding. Your bickering concerns your parents so they tell you at dinner that it’s okay, that they’ll keep paying for school, after all, it’s only a few more years before college, and by then you’re scot-free.
You don’t want to burden them though, so you insist on finding a way to pay for it. Your father tells you his boss over in Silph will sponsor you. You were eating some mashed potatoes, but you forget where they were (your fork) and stare at your usually passive and oafish father. He nods to you in assurance and you realize you don’t know what to say when this sort of thing actually happens.
In any case, you keep going to school. You have a plan for the rest of your life, and you sure as hell won’t let anything stop you. Not even Clyde, who asked you to come over and help him with homework again, this time world history. The fool can’t even remember when the old pre-sukebe calendar ends. It’s only 300 years ago, it’s not that hard.
You eat the delicious cookies and leave for home in a hissy fit. Clyde’s mom, ever patient with her son and posting the best good-will she can muster sees you to the door.
“Clyde is, I know he’s not the best in brains, but he looks up to you. Don’t be too hard on im’.” Her eyes are pleading at you, and you look into them, searching for something you can say, but you’re too cross to say much.
You seem to scare Clyde’s mom with your stare. She backs away with a squeak. You just can’t deal with Clyde or her mother right now, so you start walking home.
From behind you, you hear Clyde’s mom from down the street. “Hun, you’re welcome with us any time you want.” She was running towards you.
Your head is pounding, will this woman shut up? You stop and turn around. She stops a meter or so away.
“I really want to say, you did your best for Clyde, and we’re all so happy you put up wit’ us.” She was breathing heavy from running, and her labored breaths interlaced each word she spoke. “I just wish we could help you somehow, any way if we can.”
You force a smile, your head hurts, but you figure she deserves the courtesy. Being smart is one thing, but you also care to show temperance.
“Not a problem,” you utter. You raise your hand to wave it off and turn around to head home.
You wake up in your bed. You don’t remember going to sleep, nor do you remember much about coming home. You look down and see you’re in your pajamas. You don’t know what time it is, but you figure it’s some time at night. It’s dark out after all.
You try to get up, but you suddenly feel you have no sense of balance. You rise from your bed, only to feel your head weighing you down like a sack of rocks. You fall back and groan.
Your mother must have used her keen pokégirl senses or something to realize you were stirring in bed. She comes in and immediately takes you into her arms. Your father follows her and does the same. They both sit by your bed, wordless as you try to form some words.
“What happened?” you try to ask, but what comes out is word salad.
Your parents say nothing as they hold you in their arms. You’re a smart girl though, and you understand rather quickly. The realization enough is fairly painful. You begin to cry, as your tears carry the message you wished you could scream. They end up being more than enough for your parents.
Your usually gruff father speaks with his cracked voice. “We knew this would come one day, but now…” He trailed off and planted his face into your hair. His lips kept moving, as if in prayer. You feel his head nuzzling into your hair as he cries.
They leave you eventually, but you never figured out when. You drift off to sleep, feeling fatigued in their arms, and you wake up alone in your room with a sting of pain.
You begin to spend your waking moments trying to rationalize your predicament. Perhaps you have cancer; you try to deny your spiritual death by wishing for your actual death.
The end never comes though, and you spend the next few days in bed, stewing in anger. Why, you wonder, why did you have to go through this? You were going to go on and do things specifically so that you and other girls would never have to deal with something like this. You wish you could rip out someone’s throat, like Clyde’s but he’s not around and you’re too weak for that anyway.
You pray to your gods, you pray to everything you can think of. You ask for something easier or just a total reversal. You hide your head under the covers and ask for the pain to go away, for the eventual end to perhaps be diverted.
When that doesn’t happen you stew in your self loathing teenage drama.
This was not supposed to be the case. You were somebody that was supposed to make it. You were going to get a scholarship, go to school, cure thresholding, and generally become the best woman that ever lived in the history of this world. You were supposed to be someone, not something.
Perhaps if you had worked harder, perhaps if you went another extra mile, perhaps if you just refused Clyde’s advances, you would have made something of yourself. Fucking Clyde, you realize he’s such an idiot. You take comfort in realizing you can probably dice him to ribbons if you ever see him again.
Days turn to weeks, and your body has changed. Your body’s transformation was not kind to you, and you are tired out from constant pain. Unlike the luckier cases, your threshold into a kitten was extreme. Bone structure, hair, eyes, all of it changed and you cannot recognize yourself in the mirror any longer.
You realize this as you stand in front of what was once your mirror. You no longer own anything, and your life is set. Your parents, as much as they wish to keep you around, have elected to have you sold to a ranch a bit aways. You keep staring at yourself in the mirror, expecting something to happen. Every time you blink, you wish you could open your eyes to realize you were dreaming, so you fear that opening your eyes each time will let you down, and it does.
As you study yourself, a knock came from the window. You spin around to see Clyde outside. He seems to want to come in. You don’t bother covering up, your parents took your clothes away to help you adjust to your new coat of fur. You figure no one will care seeing you nude now. Clyde though, still irks you in some ways. You open the window.
“What do you want Clyde?”
Clyde steps in through the window and draws his arms around you. You’re not entirely sure if you’re okay with this.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. His voice teases your newly sensitive ears and you feel like you want to squirm away. This is Clyde you’re up against. He’s stupid, and he’s not worth it. You’d rather just start over. Level 5. Anything but this.
Clyde leans down to your forehead, you are now a good foot shorter than him. He leans in for a kiss. You try to resist.
“What are you doing here Clyde? Get out!”
Your father is at the door, he is holding a pokéball containing Julip, his Amazonchan. Clyde tries to back away, but before he can back away from you and explain himself, your father unleashes Julip in a flash of light and has Clyde punched out the open window.
“I see you near here again, and I’ll do more than throw you out!”
You thank your father and Julip. Julip seems to have taken a liking to you since you thresholded and she pats your head, her way of offering you her condolences. Your father asks if you are okay, to which you simply nod. You don’t know if you are or not anymore.
You had a life plan. You woke up every morning to adhere to it, and you wanted to change the world or something. It’s all kinda distant now. You unceremoniously leave your house. Long goodbyes only serve to deepen the wounds and your parents just wish you one last bit of luck before your new ranch breeder, “Master Ted” tells you to get into the ball. You say your goodbyes and with an insufficient embrace with your parents, you are gone from their lives.
You find yourself in a ranch nestled near the forests. It’s quiet here, and the tall green trees around you are soothing. Had this been a vacation, you think this would be a prime place to be.
Ranch life is not too difficult, while you wish you could continue studying heat entropy or the physical properties of vestigial structures and their effect on threshold, you are not too bummed out that your new responsibility as a member of the ranch is merely some minor household chores. This lets you take more time to relax and befriend the others on the ranch.
Master Ted is pretty nice, and he tells you to make some friends. You figure he’s nice since he doesn’t work the girls on the ranch too hard. He refuses to let you read or do anything outside of “your place” though, and you feel bummed out. He also doesn’t cut you much slack, you’re a pokégirl, and he expects you to deal with it.
The other girls on the ranch tell you he’s not that bad. There are far worse, that the really bad ranches tend to have more problems regarding discipline. You shrug. You never went to a different ranch before coming here, and you certainly didn’t care to come to one in the first place. You blow up on some poor Ladyba one day, and she shrieks as you snarl at her amidst your rants on wanting to go home.
The other threshold catgirls and kittens comfort you later. They know how it is. Of course you do not like how some of them have the same mentality of your mother. Then again, like mother, like daughter.
Taming is a strange thing to you. You never saw yourself to be much of a lesbian, but when you lose the inhibition of social morals and your sudden realization that your only source of sanity was going to be from sleeping with your brethren, you find yourself a willing participant... well, from the second time on anyway.
After you gave that Ladyba a violent tongue lashing you realize how stuck up you are. That Ladyba probably had the same deal as you. You melt away feeling awful. A catgirl you met the other day and a few kittens stride up. They whisper to you as you curl up in a ball and cry. You hear them, and you feel comforted, but you feel that telling them so will make them stop.
When you curl up even tighter, they do just as you had hoped they would – they comfort you even more and pat your back and tell you “it’s okay.”
You keep this up to feel better about yourself, but soon you find their comforting to be more than what you bargained for. You first feel a pair of soft breasts pressing into your back, then the lips of the cat girl burying herself in your hair. The kittens join in on touching you all over your body to coax you to unfurl yourself from the ball of nerves.
Your muscles relax ever so slightly, and that is enough for them to lie you down on the grass. The catgirl, the leader, pins you down and you can only stare up at her in a daze.
“You’ve been here for a week, you probably just need to tame. It’s okay, this’ll calm you down.”
You hear that word – that dirty, dirty word – and you panic. You try to struggle, but not much comes out of your vain efforts. They’re going to tame you and there’s nothing you can do about it. You try to protest, but you only unleash long moan as one of the kittens suckles one of your breasts.
You resign yourself to fate once again, and you feel sated at the end. In the haze of afterglow, you feel something in you has died, but in it you find a silver lining.
At least Clyde wasn’t your first. You smile to yourself. You really hate Clyde.
Days, weeks, months go by. You forget the exact span of time, and by now you don’t care. Your old life is a distant grey memory. You have a new set of hobbies now, more befitting of your cat like attributes. You nap in trees and enjoy the tamings with the other kittens. They really like you for that thing you do with your finger.
You get a call from Master Ted, you hope it’s not because you pilfered that apple from storage this morning. Master Ted is standing outside his office with some skinny boy. He’s about your age, you guess, and he’s talking with Master Ted in a hushed tone.
As you approach, Master Ted tells you to meet Kent, your new tamer. You’re shocked, it’s so sudden and soon, but then again, you shouldn’t be too surprised; this is a ranch. Girls are sold here.
You look him over, he’s not so tall, and he’s skinny. You wonder if he’s just here for a pet. He’s not bad looking though. His golden brown hair and narrow green eyes are a draw for you, and he’s got some pretty nice arms, strong enough to securely hold you.
“Hi.” You stutter out first. Kent blushes and takes your hand and plants a kiss. He’s a charmer, you like that.
Master Ted taps you in the ass, “She’s pretty easy to manage, give her a nice hard taming and I’m sure she’ll be all over you in no time.”
You got used to Master Ted’s little comments months ago. You ignore them, or rather, you reflect on them to realize, you kinda want that.
Kent takes you to one of the ranch’s sleeping quarters. He sets you down on the bed and you feel your heart beating faster. Kent smothers you with kisses and you feel oddly excited. Your body seems ready for him. He gets on top of you, his belt and fly already opened. You instinctively draw your hand down to grab him, but he takes your hand and pins them over head as he leans in for another kiss. You really don’t mind.
His grip loosens and you draw your hands down to pull his shirt off, he obliges you and sits up to pull the shirt he wears over his head. You see his fine torso and feel a small trail of drool forming off the corner of your mouth. He sees this and smiles the cutest smile you ever saw. This seals the deal as you gladly whisper him a plea to continue.
Your whispers only last for a short while longer before you scream out in ecstasy for all to hear. You don’t mind though, you are now Kent’s and flattering his sexual prowess is just one of the ways you think of to appease him.
You had a life plan. No, you have a life plan. You serve Kent, and that’s where you like to be. Your past plans aside, being beside him as an alpha is good enough for you. Things can change. You are happy to be where you are. Sure you couldn’t go and cure threshold, but that doesn’t matter. You’re still yourself, and Kent is your lovable master that you curl up with every night.
Oh and Clyde’s still really dumb, wherever he is.