The leather collar tightened around White Claw's neck, a strap too thin for his size. The leash, taut, kept him close to the bed, where the trainer waited. This wasn't a Trainer like the others; no battles, no gym challenges, just the silence of that room and the thick air of a different kind of anticipation. White Claw heard slow footsteps approach the bedroom door, then saw the doorknob turn. He recoiled, his white claws scratching at the wooden floor. His scarlet eyes shone with a mixture of fear and confusion. He was a wild Pokémon, made to hunt and fight, not endure this captivity.

The first time had been a shock, an outrage. The caresses, the touches—everything felt wrong, a violation of his nature. Now, as the leash pulled him toward the waiting figure, a low moan escaped his throat as he was laid down beside them. Hands explored his white and red fur, gentle yet insistent. At first, the sensation brought revulsion, an uncomfortable tingling along his spine. But after a while, a shiver ran through his body, one that felt fundamentally different.

White Claw arched his back as skilled fingers found that sensitive spot at the base of his neck. That spot, once a target of pain during battles, now radiated a strange, unfamiliar pleasure. His hips moved involuntarily, a slight rocking against the mattress. "Mmmh," he moaned, surprised by the sound himself. His front paws gripped the sheet, muscles tensing as resistance faded, replaced by burning acceptance. A soft "thump-thump" echoed in the room as his tail beat rhythmically against the mattress, an undeniable sign of pleasure. He no longer struggled—he wanted more.