I usually start stories nowadays by announcing that they have no AI. This time is no different: this story was not made with any help of AI.
However, it DOES have Futa....as well as sex between human beings and pokemon. And cheating.
The MC steals her son's significant others.
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Being a Pokemon trainer came with many caveats.
As much as society celebrated and worshipped the lapels of those trainers that managed to rise to the top, there were legions of kids, teenagers and even adults who just didn't make it. While living in a world that has no losers would be kind, the world is not willing to live without winners.
And because it is not willing to live without winners, it is eager to sacrifice as many people as it takes to get them.
Now, that makes the world sound significantly worse than it actually is. The best of trainers provide very valuable services to civilization and even just middling trainers made up the bulk and framework for things to just, well, run. Their existence provides utility. Even the "losers", those repeatedly beaten and discarded by the wayside by the winners, still found spots just waiting for them in "normal" society and there were even ladders to climb to the top that had nothing to do with being a trainer.
The very worst-case scenarios were statistically outliers.
But most of them involved Pokemon in some capacity.
Now, that isn't an aspersion; Pokemon are great. They are amazing, even. They are the best of friends, the enduring of companions and, yes, although not common by any means and rarely talked about...lovers.
Now, lest the impression that the floor of tragedy is simply having to be relegated to a job that pays for your fiscal needs and barely anything else is given, it is useful to say that being used as a climbing step by someone else was not the worst-case scenario. For a realistic look at the cost of trainers, we have to acknowledge the possibility of death.
Or worse.
As much as we would rather be otherwise, Human beings have not altogether succeeded at removing themselves from the food pyramid. And Pokemon DO eat. But "predation" takes on different meanings when it comes to criminal organizations, who might be significantly more cavalier about the worth of human life.
Or that having your life "taken" doesn't necessarily mean being killed.
Pokemon and human beings likewise are beings who fuck, after all.
Now, Gyms exist to hopefully edge the lower end of this curve into nonexistence, and the police exist to begin with to be an active fang those predators who live inside society. The fact, then, that these two exist, and will never go away, means that these dangers, however we might like to ignore them, never will either.
Being a trainer is not a safe occupation, after all.
Having said that, these are things that will never really matter to those nearing the top.
They are existence only confined to the broadly three resources that both the worst and the best trainers have to keep in mind. One, being money. Two, being time. And three, being opportunity.
The reason why so many trainers opt to go for teams of similar typing and elements comes down to that. Feeding and maintaining up to 6 Pokemon was made easier and cheaper when they were all of the same type. The sort of training that would benefit one Pokemon could benefit all if they were similar. And, quite simply, geography determined the sort of Pokemon that could be caught, to begin with. So it was that even a trainer with infinite time and money might not have much in the matter of his Pokemon.
Rebecca's son, she was proud to say, had managed to be one of these lauded trainers.
He was a 16 year old boy that she'd had with a dashing trainer that had passed through town while she was in her teens. The man, because the trainer had been someone in his 30s, hadn't even minded the "extra" meat that she was packing downstairs.
She had dedicated her life to that little gift and, at 36 years old, she couldn't be prouder of him.
"I am going to make it, Mom!" he eagerly said as he showed her a Pokeball, "I am finally going to make it!"
They were in the living room of her house, something she inherited from her own single mother, as she indulgent smiled at her son, "Did that Mankey of yours finally evolve, honey?"
"Ah, no," he said with, hmm, some guilt? "I traded him for, um, actually it might be best if I finally introduce her."
And then he let a Lopunny out.
Rebecca, at her age, didn't think of the past with any regret. Some bitches always thought that they could have been contenders if only they hadn't made "mistakes" or had better luck. Rebecca? She had long ago learned to love what she had.
Because what she had wasn't bad.
She was of average height, being 5 feet and 6 inches. She had glorious blue hair that she had shared with her son, and kept in a matronly bun. Her breasts were big, being double Ds, with small areola and inverted nipples. Her skin was creamy white, her eyes were a lighter shade of blue, and she had freckles that went throughout all of her body.
Her arms were toned from a lifetime of working, but her shoulder remained slim, and her stomach had long since regained the flatness of her youth. Her hips were wide, but nothing absurd. Her butt was toned, but not incredibly big. Aside from her tits, the biggest thing she had was well...
Her foot-long cock.
Whatever quirk of genetics led to women like her having dicks, also lead to them having very big dicks. It was not something talked about, so Rebecca had no idea how many more like her existed. And, to be honest, by this point? She didn't care. She had long ago made peace with her male appendage.
Though her watermelon-sized testicles were rather inconvenient.
Well, that's why her dress was long and modest. All just to hide these things.
But even at her age she was still a woman at the height of her sexuality, still plying the field with whatever partners she managed to get some chemistry going in her sleepy little town. She would always love the father of her child, wherever he was, but she had long since discovered that women, well, just did it for her.
And the Lopunny that came out was QUITE the woman.
Pokemon came in all shapes and sizes. That was a fact widely known. But even within the same species of Pokemon, geography and diet could make momentous and crucial differences. And here was an example: Lopunny were supposed to barely be 4 feet tall.
But this one was two inches taller than Rebecca was.
Now, iif this Lopunny had just been 5 feet and 8 inches tall, well, that would have been a bit strange but nothing to talk about. But it wasn't.
So let's get it out of the way.
Her son's Lopunny was made to be fucked.
Her breasts went beyond double Ds. They were masses of baby-feeding orbs that were bigger than Rebecca's head. She couldn't see her areolas through her brown fur, but her nipples were so huge that light brown nipples protruded like towers at the tip of her breasts.
The Lopunny's stomach had chub that was formed by big and obvious abdominal muscles, making her look decadently hard sof at the same timet. Her hips were the size of a truck, and her thighs were breathtakingly muscled.
Her snout was cute and brief, but that had nothing on her eyes.
They were gold. And they were creased with crows feet.
