Brock stumbled into the pokemon center, nursing his injured metapod. He leant on the counter, waiting for assistance, exhausted from the heated battle he had just left. A nurse entered from behind the counters. Brock was immediatly smitten- her gilded hair, the shade of the flesh of a well-cooked salmon, framed her glittering black eyes, the tone of seals in an oil slick. Her vinyl uniform did little to conceal her volumptuous (added 'p' is deliberate) breasts, oozing from her fitted bodice.
"May i help you?" the nurse enquired, in a soft, low, seductive voice. Topaz met Obsidian as their shining eyes met, lust reflecting in each.
"Uh... yes, yes, my metapod needs healing" stammered Brock, his eyes on her ample endowment. She plucked the invalid from his hands, brushing them as she passed. She handed it to a waiting chancy, and turned back to gaze into Brock's glittery glinting eyes which shined with lust.
"Metapods, i like them" the Nurse purred, bending over the counter, her bosom heaving as it spilled over her tight garment.
"They only know two moves, you know. Harden, and stringshot. I like the way it thinks"
She climbed onto the red counter and slammed Brock against it, unbuttoning his flattering boot-cut khaki pants, unbuckling his leather belt which rested against his tight ribbed cotton black t-shirt, throbbing with desire.
"Let's take a look at this metapod", she murmured in his ear, as she gripped his pulstating manhood, slick with passion.
Brock pushed her away, only to pull her against him, and thrust her stomach-down onto a wheelie-bed, pushing over a small wheeled table, laden with surgical instruments and body parts. Her dark dazzling eyes, as deep as the dark abyss that is her lonliness, burned with the passion of her longing for his lust. Her gigantic mammory glands burst from under her restricting bodice. Seeing that the clothes no longer served their purpost, Brock ripped them off, tearing the thick fabric apart.
He pushed her down harder, struggling to release his phalus from his black Bonds briefs with the stripy elastic thing at the top, trembling with desire. His metapod lay forgotten in a healing bed, watching as his master bent over and placed connect-the-dot-kisses on Nurse's spine.
Nurse struggled, and her hands searched for a bar or handle or the end of the bed or a syringe or something to hold on to as her lover ravaged her back with his lips and teeth. Her dainty hand connected with a warm, pulsating mass. She realised that it was a pancreas, riddled with disease, that she had removed from Ash Ketchum only hours before. Years of substance abuse had left his organs weak and poisoned, and some had to be removed. She squeezed the flesh involentarily as she felt Brock's rigid manmeat (i honestly couldn't come up with a hilarious conventional word for cock) press into her tight, toned, muscular buttocks. Blood oozed from the organ, dripping down onto the floor and trickling down her thigh, like a red cup of cordial spilt by a clumsy child.
Brock intercepted the red oozing down her well-shaped milky-white hairless-waxed-not-shaved thigh like a cautious mother cleaning up after the clumsy child who can't hold a beverage. He brought his finger up to her face and smeared it against her cheek. He leaned down low, next to her dainty white ear, and whispered "...Metapod used harden." Between moans of delight, Nurse muttered,
"It's... super effective...", her speech blurring becoming more frequent as her passion simmered.
"Now, for some lube!" Said Brock cheerfully, searching his surroundings for a suitable liquid. Nurse pumped her pancreas harder and faster, aching for relief and his manmeat burning deep within her molten core of fire. His tigers-eye-eyes landed on the Nurse's organ, and he plucked it from her grasp. "Yes, this should do nicely". He squeezed the festering pancreas between his manly hairy fingers, extracting from it blood and fluids. He massaged gently her burning opening, coating it in diseased slime, in anticipation of his engorged cock. He placed both his hands in front of her, and her hands came up to grip the organ with his as he burst into her, and they gripped the pancreas until it burst, spilling Ash's digestive enzymes all over the outdated tile floor, like something from a bad 1984 kitchen.
They pulsed with desire, rubbing the pancreas juice over each other's bodies, slick with desire and longing and lust and passion and longing, and Brock felt a climax approaching on the figurative horizon. He whispered in her ear once more:
"Brock...used... stringshot..."
He erupted, shooting his lava into her boiling pit, and she let out a bloodcurdling screech of pleasure. The Chancey in the next room came in to see what all the fuss was about, and was rather shocked by the carnage that was it's workplace. The Chancy got Nurse Joy's ass fired, and her and Brock eloped to Sinnoh, where their love of organs could be indulged in peace.
AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA from: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3802707/1/Metapod_love