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CYOA 2 – To The Victor Go The Spoils – Chapter 33: Old Friends
🕑 Added 2023-05-12 06:00:04 +0000 UTCLast time: Hanzo won his 6th gym badge and he and Genji started on a journey to recover their sibling bond.
Warnings/content: Lúcio and Hanzo playing with Roadhog; Pokémon typical violence
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Hanzo feels an odd mixture of apprehension and eagerness once their surroundings start to take on a more familiar feeling. The usual flora and fauna makes way for an abundance of burned tree husks and a thick coat of ash covering the ground and the shrubbery around them.
King remembers as well. For some reason Hanzo had not anticipated him to, but the way he starts to prance ahead, throwing his head so his gray mane glitters in the sun… well, it does not leave any room for speculation.
He’s still been so young back then, freshly coming off his disastrous loss against Baptiste – but he still remembers the adoration of the little old people of Lavaridge, and he is obviously eager to see them again.
Not like Hanzo who starts to drag his feet a bit.
Would they remember him? The guy that dressed up in a maid outfit and did chores around their homes under the watchful eyes of their massive guardian? … and that more often than not he got fucked right there as well, his skirt flipped up so Rutledge could somehow cram that massive bull cock into him?
The small hairs on Hanzo’s arms stand up in attention, goosebumps making his scalp prickle.
Lúcio touches his wrist, saying something, but Hanzo can’t quite make it out over the rush of blood in his ears. It does not matter; they’re close enough to see the tiny town square where there is, as always, a hustle and bustle of old folks. Even more so now that they are swarming around King to coo and pet.
“Holy shit,” Lúcio whispers next to him. Hanzo would have thought he was talking about the old residents, if there wasn’t the stature of Mister Rutledge ducking carefully out of the entrance of one of the houses. Probably to see what was causing the commotion.
Lúcio’s grip on Hanzo’s wrist becomes tighter to the point of painful as he whispers with a voice brimming with excitement: “Is that him? The gym leader?”
“Mako Rutledge. Yes,” Hanzo croaks. He feels like his stomach is vibrating which is an odd sensation in and off itself. He can’t deny though that he is… excited to see him. This towering height, the large biceps jiggling with every movement. The huge stomach that he sometimes still feels resting on his back, the phantom sensation getting him desperately horny.
Those small, dark eyes staring right down to his soul.
“Come on. Let’s go to him,” he says through a mouth full of cotton, starting to move legs that feel about as unresponsive as tree trunks. Lúcio stumbles along. To Hanzo it feels like his friend is going through very much the same emotions he did, which is at least comforting in a way.
He’s not the only slut immediately thirsting for this behemoth of a man.
.oOo.
Rutledge’s home is just as Hanzo remembers it: weirdly adorable.
After gathering the two trainers up and guiding them to his house, he sat them down and prepared tea for them with a tea set that is, in actuality, quite normal sized but looks absolutely ridiculous in the behemoth sized hands of this man.
Lúcio, usually quite talkative and friendly, has said barely a peep. He’s just staring at Mister Rutledge. Every now and then his elbow digs into Hanzo’s side; as if Hanzo isn’t seeing the same thing as he.
As if anybody could overlook this man.
“Told ya the li’l lady was trouble,” Rutledge murmurs. He looks like he has not noticed the way Lúcio is almost vibrating off his chair but Hanzo knows for a fact that he’s keenly aware of their every reaction.
The man is almost intimidatingly intelligent. It does not surprise him in the least that he is involved with Sojiro… though the thought weirds him out so he tries not to dwell on it.
Hanzo takes a sip from his tea so he wouldn’t just shrug like a brat and give himself some more time to think things through.
“I more so recall you giving her to me so her mother would not lynch her. Which I suppose means that she has just as bad of an attitude problem.”
Mako’s thick lips twitch. For just the blink of an eye he looks honestly amused before his doughy face settles back into neutral indifference, his small eyes staring right down to Hanzo’s soul.
Who the Hell knows what is going on in that head of his? For all Hanzo knows, the man is just now imagining him in his little maid outfit.
He fights against a flush that really wants to ruse up to his ears.
“Comes with the species. Salandit females are… headstrong. If ya don’t show ‘em who’s boss, they’ll show you.”
As he says that, he stretches his meaty arm out and lightly taps his thick finger against Hanzo’s forehead.
Next to him, Hanzo can hear Lúcio whimper. The other’s hand is suddenly on his thigh beneath the table, fingers digging in like claws.
Rutledge’s gaze briefly flicks to him before settling back onto Hanzo. He pulls his arm back again and is quiet. Like he’d bestowed some wisdom onto him that has explained everything.
Hanzo stares back. He can tell that his expression is souring. Rutledge’s, on the other hand, lights up somewhat. Like he thinks Hanzo’s annoyance is hilarious.
Given the things he had made him do when he stayed in this house… he would think that that is a rather accurate assessment. This man has a twisted sense of humor.
“Still slow on the uptake, hmn?”
Hanzo bristles. Before he can demand what that is supposed to mean, though, Rutledge continues: “Cassidy would’ve figured it out without help. He’s a natural.”
Mako leans forward some, placing his arms on the table, his massive forearms just… there, taking up all the space, and looking like they got enough power to break the both of them in half without even trying.
“Heard a few stories. About you. And Cassidy.”
Hanzo wants to know who the fuck was talking this time… but he’s come to the conclusion that telling gym leaders to mind their own fucking business is an absolutely futile effort. He can just hope they had the decency not to tell his father…
Oh God, what if his father had heard something? Anything?
“What kind of stories?” he chokes out, heat spreading in his chest and threatening to creep up his throat. He doesn’t mind if his father hears the sordid details about Genji’s love life… but he would rather prefer to keep his own private, thank-you-very-much.
Rutledge does not answer, as he usually does. He just sits there and stares at Hanzo, an expression not unlike a cat that got the cream overcoming his usually stoic features. It makes him look younger and has Hanzo wondering just how old he actually was. It is difficult to make out anything about this man. He is an enigma… much like all the newspaper articles had said whenever he popped up somewhere.
“You’ve learned a few things. Just not the right ones. Or… maybe the right ones. Who knows.”
Rutledge stares at him, then at Lúcio who has been getting increasingly more fidget-y on his own chair, hands clamped around his cup of tea and mouth open slightly. His lips are looking wet and plump.
“Like father, like son… I suppose. Interesting. I like it.”
“What do you mean?” Hanzo asks again, his voice weak and brittle. He asks that even though he knows exactly what Rutledge is talking about. He knows it even before the man opens his mouth again, yet still he asked and had to hear it out of some morbid kind of curiosity, probably.
It’s easier to stomach than the thought that maybe he kind of gets turned on by the humiliation.
“You both know how to spread your legs.”
Hanzo opens his mouth, then closes it again. He does not know what to reply. He glances toward Lúcio who is still all but vibrating on his own chair, staring at Rutledge like he hasn’t really heard a single word that he said.
“I don’t know what that has to do with anything,” Hanzo finally mutters because it is either that or just being quiet and mortified and turned on and being even more mortified because he is turned on by the situation.
“Hm.” Mako slowly stands. He blots out the light from all around the kitchen, it feels like, looming over the both of them like a mountain. Hanzo can hear Lúcio’s breathing quick and wet, like a little scared animal – and he feels like he is not sounding any different. They just sit there, staring up at this behemoth of a man who could snap them in half without breaking a sweat.
Hanzo is acutely aware of the fat bulge in Rutledge’s pants. He just knows that Lúcio is staring as well.
“I like ‘em dumb,” Mako announces. Hanzo wants to protest immediately but the truth is that his brain isn’t really functioning at the moment. All he can think about is how he wants to stuff his head in various crevices of this man and just suffocate himself on him.
He keeps thinking about how easy it would be for him to pop his skull if he were to press his face into his armpit.
Mako continues while the both of them just sit there, staring at him, mouth slightly gaping: “I want payment. Twice. Before I help you. And after.”
Rutledge moves his thick, meaty arm, his biceps jiggling with the motion. He points at the both of them with his fat finger. First one, then the other. The air becomes hard to breathe for some reason.
“I want both of you.”
He waits like he expects either of them to protest but Lúcio makes a pathetic little whimpering sound… and Hanzo already knows the depths he is willing to go to in order to obtain his goals.
He’d do a lot worse things than being Mako Rutledge’s personal whore.
.oOo.
As Hanzo and Lúcio follow Rutledge’s wide form deeper into his little house, Lúcio’s hand sneaks into Hanzo’s. They weave their fingers together like children on a school expedition.
Hanzo is honestly quite thankful for the contact. His legs are feeling all kinds of wobbly and he’s afraid he’s going to stumble over his own two feet if it weren’t for the strength Lúcio gives him.
Mako guides them into his almost disturbingly cute bedroom. Not that either of them would fucking care. They’re standing there, staring with bated breath as he gets to work on the clasps of his pants, all but hidden beneath the heavy hang of his gut.
Eventually it clinks softly and the sides of his belt fall apart, pants slithering down.
Lúcio groans when he sees the tip of Mako’s meaty cock just about peeking out underneath his stomach. His balls are large as grapefruits and looking full to bursting.
Hanzo has trouble swallowing the sudden influx of saliva. His whole body is hot and tingling, the fuzzy feeling crawling up the back of his neck and settling at the base of his skull where it makes him feel like he’s floating, moving in tandem with Lúcio toward Lavaridge’s gym leader now sitting on the edge of his mammoth bed.
He watches them with those small, intelligent eyes, face expressionless and yet somehow conveying smug self-assurance. He knows they’re horny for him. He knows they will do just about anything right now to play.
Hanzo lowers his gaze, feeling a bit ashamed of his own gluttony. What had happened to him on this journey? When had something just… unlocked and made him into a slut?
“Come here.”
The thought is gone as fast as it had appeared. Lúcio and he stumble toward Roadhog and follow the point of his finger to kneel on the ground before him. The heat he radiates is intense.
Hanzo can smell him, too; not like Cassidy the unwashed fool… just the thick aroma of another’s body, his cock and balls airing out after a day of moving about his little town and helping all those old people that gravitate here.
Lúcio is the first to move, not waiting for any more direction. He ducks his head underneath the overhang of Rutledge’s stomach. Hanzo can just about see the glistening slip of his tongue as it comes out again and again, lapping against Rutledge’s shaft and the pierced tip of his dick.
Hanzo is paralyzed for a moment, kneeling there, unsure what to do, before he decides that he can’t let Lúcio leave him in the dust.
Rutledge doesn’t do anything to stop them, so he supposes this is what he’s had in mind as Hanzo ducks down on the other side, stuffing his face against those heavy balls. The sac is surprisingly soft and almost unnaturally warm against his skin and open mouth as he gives it suckling kisses.
A moment later they get more space to work with as Mako has pity on them and leans back, bracing himself on one hand while using the other to pull his stomach out of the way some.
It’s honestly a religious experience. Hanzo has already had the pleasure of playing with this beast of a cock but it feels damn near magical to do so while Lúcio is right there and sounding like he is about to lose his mind.
He keeps moaning softly while licking the meaty shaft and getting it wet with saliva. His hands are cupped reverently around Mister Rutledge’s sac, feeling up the gigantic nuts, full and churning with his hot load.
Hanzo almost doesn’t want to intrude… but then again he is horny as well and he would not want to be called lazy.
Not like Cassidy, the lazy idiot…
As he leans down and suckles the fat tip between his lips, tongue a wet, soft cushion against the thick piercing, He can hear Rutledge sigh above them. It’s deep and satisfied; like someone slipping into a hot bath after a long day of work.
“Good boys,” he murmurs. Hanzo shudders, his skin prickling alive with goosebumps. He tries to peer up at him but there’s a wall of fat in the way. They’re just sweet little cocksuckers for this behemoth of a man. Just two sluts that excitedly drool all over his junk, not caring that they’re just a pair of wet, eager holes to him because he can’t see them do their work.
“Gonna tell Cole ‘bout it?” Rutledge suddenly continues. Hanzo’s heart beats faster, left wondering if Mister Rutledge can read minds as well.
He just hums, hoping it will be enough of an answer. Lúcio is pressed against his side, noisily sucking on one of the fat balls as if he thought he could actually fit it somehow in his mouth.
A thick drop of pre-cum pearls from the piss slit, coating Hanzo’s tongue. He swallows thickly, trying not to drool, chasing that intense taste to the source and tickling Mako’s hole with the tip of his tongue.
Luckily he does not seem to need an answer and is happy to just feel Hanzo going crazy at the taste of dick.
Not that he gets to enjoy it in peace for too long. After a while, Lúcio presses his cheek against his, whining for a taste himself. A little fight breaks out between the both of them, panting and sloppy and entirely too brainless. Hanzo actually feels like a bimbo when he finally pops off the sturdy, fat cock and lets Lúcio have a taste.
He feels like it would be actually too much hassle to exert any energy on thinking. It is a rather tranquil way to be. Just… exist and suck cock and look cute while doing it.
Rutledge does not give them much to go on in terms of whether they are even pleasuring him. He does not moan or sigh, but his cock becomes nice and hard and his breathing is even more labored than usual.
So that’s a win… probably.
Lúcio certainly doesn’t seem to mind one way or the other. He happily drools all over Rutledge’s massive dick, holding his breeding balls in both hands and damn near vibrating on the spot.
Hanzo lets him. He’s already had his fill after all… so he just puts his head against Mako’s thigh like a sleepy kitten and watches as Lúcio tries and somehow manages to stuff a good bit of Rutledge’s dick into his throat.
It’s a sight to behold, though Hanzo supposes everything is possible if you want it just badly enough.
Weirdly inspiring.
.oOo.
Hanzo has quite a bit of deja-vu when he finds himself the coming night out in the poison pools that are so disturbingly close to the town. The moon hangs up in the sky just as it did that night when he first met Kikuri.
There is silence all around, not a single Salandit to be seen. Just the occasional soft bubbling of the shimmering toxic pools that dot the whole area.
Lúcio is somewhere behind him – and Politoed is even further behind. Nobody had to tell it that being close to the toxic waste would not be a good idea for the water type.
His friend’s hand is curled into the back of his pants, holding on to his belt as a child would so their parent would not go missing.
Hanzo meanwhile feels surprisingly calm. He slowly looks out over the clearing, then up toward Rutledge who has a meditative expression on his face as he stares out at nothing in particular.
Hanzo’s hand moves toward Kikuri’s Pokéball. It feels hot against his palm and is shaking intermittently. She probably can somehow feel where they are.
Is she excited to be back home? Or does she just want to get out to pick more fights? He can’t tell. For all that he has started to understand her more during Reinhardt’s trials, she has closed up quite a bit again.
Suddenly, Rutledge moves. He jerks his short leg out, kicking one of the many pebbles littering the razed down clearing. Hanzo watches as it skitters across the scorched earth and finally lands in one of the poison pools.
To him, it has been picked out at random – but only a split second later, the surface begins to bubble quite a bit more than the lazy blubbering all around. The toxins are cooking, he realizes with a bit of uncertainty. He forces himself to stay right where he is, though, staring as the bubbling reaches a crescendo just before a dark, sleek creature starts to crawl out.
Lúcio’s knuckles press harder into the small of his back but he does not make a sound. They’re both frozen to the spot, staring at this nightmarish sight, the creature glistening beneath the light of the moon.
Only when the Salazzle gets up on her hind legs does Hanzo properly recognize her, mentally kicking himself for not catching on sooner. Of course it is her. He’s seen her and her brood crawl out of the toxic pools before.
He exhales with a bit of a shudder. The Pokéball against his palm becomes hot to the point of almost burning him but he holds on grimly.
“What now?” he asks with a tight voice, watching as the Salazzle surveys the three of them before coming closer. She stares at Hanzo for a moment longer before her gaze snaps over to her trainer. Rutledge looms over the Salazzle and her tail starts a quick back-and-forth vibration; almost like she was wagging it.
To Hanzo it looks oddly flirtatious.
Mako makes a little flicking motion with his fingers and grunts: “Let ‘er out. Either she evolves tonight or not at all.”
His fingers twitch around Kikuri’s hot Pokéball. “So that is your brilliant plan? Force her to evolve?”
“Hmn. Need to fuck around with more girls, do ya?” Rutledge says with an inflection like he is amused. He half turns to Hanzo, looking him up and down while he reaches out and pets one huge hand over his Salazzle’s bald head. “If a lady wants somethin’, you better give that to her. I can smell your burnin’ flesh from her. Go on and let ‘er out.”
Hanzo does not really have time to argue any of it. It feels like his skin is starting to bubble from the intense heat. He just has to let go of the Pokéball, watching numb as it snaps open immediately and the bright light of Kikuri emerging surges out onto the ground.
“I thought I should not let her get her way all of the time,” he finally says, watching as Kikuri stands there like a wet cat, her thin back arched and sharp maw opened in a hiss. Her mother has immediately turned from her trainer and is staring down at her with eyes glistening with malice. “Show her who’s boss.”
“Hm. You could do that. If you want ‘em to stay Salandit,” Rutledge finally mutters. He puts his huge hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. The weight is so immense that his knee on that side almost buckles before he stands up a little straighter. It feels… comforting, in a way. The heat and warmth as he watches the two females size each other up, their tails lashing in agitation. “If you want ‘em to become strong and independent… you gotta let ‘em be every once in a while. You gotta earn their respect by givin’ ‘em respect. You get it?”
“...yes,” Hanzo says softly. And he really does.
.oOo.
While Hanzo certainly understands the concept, it is difficult to watch and not intervene as Kikuri is kicked around the clearing, slamming again and again into the debris of trees that have long since rotted from the inside from the toxic waste around the area.
Once or twice she tries to slip into the poison pools, trying to escape an attack from her mother. While Hanzo thinks the maneuvre is very clever indeed, it does not pan out the way either of them hope. The harem of Salandit the Salazzle has cultivated around itself are out of sight… but they’re not vanished altogether.
Again and again, their little claws jerk out of the water, holding a squirming Kikuri aloft like some kind of sacrificial offering.
Once she manages to get away a split second before the wall of heat from her mother hits her. The second time she is not so lucky.
Hanzo’s heart is thumping in his chest, his hand clutching around the now empty Pokéball as he watches his Salandit being hit and rolling over the razed floor like some sort of puppet before she stays down for a moment, visibly catching her breath.
“I can’t,” he rasps, sweat dripping from his face. He looks up at Rutledge who stands there like a statue, impassively watching the mayhem. “I can’t let this happen. She is going to kill her! Are you even listening?!”
Mako’s unresponsiveness gets him even more agitated, his voice cracking and hand shooting out to grasp the meaty wrist of the giant.
The Salazzle perks up immediately, her head snapping around to look toward the humans. She had not paid them any attention for so long that it had seemed like she had forgotten them completely.
But now her eyes narrow toward Hanzo and she slowly stands up a bit straighter from the loose squat she had taken on during the fight.
Hanzo feels oddly threatened by the quiet stare. He looks up toward Rutledge, but the man still doesn’t move a muscle.
Lúcio’s knuckles press harder into the small of Hanzo’s back, his voice just a soft whisper as he says: “Dude… that doesn’t look good. Why’s she staring at you like that?”
Hanzo wants to say: “I don’t know.” But it doesn’t come to that. The Salazzle suddenly rushes him, her claws around his throat in the blink of an eye. He’s pulled off the ground until his feet helplessly kick the air.
He is somewhat aware of Lúcio trying to hold on and pull him back down, but his fingers ultimately slipping from his belt.
Hanzo is clutching at the Salazzle’s arm, then her claws, trying to pry them off before she squeezes the last bit of oxygen out of his body. He wildly rolls his eyes, trying to look toward Rutledge for help, but he is still standing there impassively, though now watching him with a detached sort of curiosity.
Is Lúcio screaming at the gym leader to do something? Hanzo could imagine it, though he couldn’t say at all. His ears are filled with the thrum of his own blood. His eyes hurt. They feel like they’re going to pop out of his skull.
Salazzle’s claws are so sharp, it is a fifty/fifty as to whether she’s going to choke him first or just rip his throat out altogether.
Large splotches of darkness are encroaching on the edges of his vision…
-Before it lights up quite spectacularly, blinding him in the process.
Hanzo squeezes his eyes closed. For a long, excruciating second he is just a consciousness swimming in a vacuum with no stimuli… and then he hits the ground hard, crumpling together like a puppet with its strings cut.
He inhales with a long wheeze, then coughs profusely, eyes blinking open. Through the tears he can just see two large, dark shapes slamming together over and over again.
Lúcio is at his back, patting him down and helping him to sit up.
Hanzo wipes over his eyes to dry them off. Just as he blinks them back open, the dark splotches both produce huge balls of flame, hurling them at each other. The heat suddenly washing over him is enough to take his breath away.
Through the roar of the fire he can hear Rutledge’s wheezing, deep voice boom suddenly: “Enough!”
The silence that follows, rings through Hanzo’s head. He feels like he’d been put through a wringer in just a minute or two.
As he opens his eyes again, carefully blinking them open now that his skin feels pink and tender from the heat, he can just about catch Rutledge’s Salazzle slipping back into one of her toxic ponds.
Left standing on the razed earth – is another Salazzle. Kikuri.
Hanzo clears his throat a few times, staggering onto his feet with the help of Lúcio.
Upright, he can get a better look at Kikuri. She looks breathtaking in her new form; all sleek, sensual lines. She is far smaller than her mother, but Hanzo doesn’t know whether that comes with age or whether Mako’s Salazzle had simply been jumbo sized along with her larger-than-life trainer.
“You evolved,” he rasps, taking a few steps toward her but coming to a halt just out of reach. “...To save me?”
They look at each other with odd expressions on their faces. Hanzo would have expected such a behavior from… literally any of his Pokémon but her. Before the moment can drag on too long, Kikuri turns her head and stares off to the side, obviously uncomfortable with the statement.
Hanzo clears his throat. He’s not the best about outward shows of affection either, so he sounds a little stiff as he mutters: “Thank you.”
Kikuri’s eye narrows, her stance relaxing a little. Her tongue slithers out playfully and she turns back to him, her small clawed hand reaching out to curl around two of his fingers. She squeezes them slightly before quickly letting go of him again.
You’re welcome.
“Dude… that was the scariest fucking training session I’ve seen in my life,” Lúcio breathes just behind Hanzo’s shoulder. “But you look mighty fine, Kikuri babe.”
She throws Lúcio an unimpressed look before hurrying over to one of the toxic ponds to look at herself in its reflection, turning this way and that.
Hanzo watches, throat hurting from getting choked and heart still pounding a mile a minute. He just hopes that now she will calm down and become more manageable…
Anything else would be a disaster.
“Anyway. You got yours. Now I want mine.” Rutledge’s voice slides directly beneath Hanzo’s skin.
He shudders.
