Pokémon Legendary: An Adult Pokémon Story
Copyright© 2025 by Subconscious_P
Chapter 1: The Meeting in Pallet Town
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 1: The Meeting in Pallet Town - An adult semi-erotic Pokémon story set in a more realistic and brutal Pokémon world. Follow a Pokémon Region Champion as he and his rivals race to unlock the secrets of Legendary and mythical Pokémon while facing an unknown threat unlike anything he's faced before. Our champion and rivals will put their lives on the line as they face lethal puzzles, god-tier Pokemon, a deadly stalker, an evil alliance, and the the most powerful trainers in the world. This story is not meant for commercial use.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Fan Fiction Cheating White Female Oral Sex Tit-Fucking Public Sex AI Generated
“Ch-ch-ch-ch-wreeeeEEEEEECH!”
Ace Tomlinson woke to the same grating Dodrio cry that had plagued Pallet Town mornings for years.
“Fucking hell,” he said into his pillow, more from habit than complaint.
The Dodrio had been the soundtrack to Pallet Town mornings since he was nine years old.
His bag was slumped in the corner with Paldean sand still in the seams. He had just arrived back in Pallet Town the previous night after a long journey from the Paldea region.
It had been a while since he’d last visited his small hometown, yet it still felt like home.
A Pokémon Center receipt from Mesagoza poked out of a side pocket. He’d unpacked exactly enough last night to find a toothbrush, then sat on the edge of the bed for a long time staring at nothing in particular.
Shocker, his Raichu, was on the kitchen counter when he shuffled in, tail twitching, looking faintly disapproving about the hour.
“Don’t start,” Ace said.
The Raichu chittered something that almost certainly meant I’ve been here for an hour too.
Ace made himself some breakfast consisting of cereal, yogurt, and orange juice. Through the kitchen window the sun was clearing the hills behind the distant Oak Labs compound, painting the lab roof gold.
His PokéNav buzzed on the counter. He grabbed it and checked the screen. It was a text from Professor Oak.
Oak: “Be at my lab by 10. Everyone will be here.”
Even the punctuation looked tense. Oak didn’t use full stops in casual texts.
“Everyone” was the part that really bothered Ace. Yesterday on the phone, Oak had said that Phoebe and Phillip would be there. If that were the case, then he suspected that there was some sort of crisis happening involving one or more powerful or legendary Pokémon somewhere.
That was what the three of them were usually called in for these days.
Ace finished his breakfast. He stood up and pulled on a jacket that still smelled like Paldea. Shocker leaped in front of him, chirping excitedly, ready to go. Ace smiled at him before returning Shocker to his Poké Ball and headed out.
The walk into town took its usual half hour, and he took the long way out of habit.
Mrs. Yoshida waved through the bakery window with flour on her cheek. Then a young boy sitting on a porch froze and frantically smacked his older sister, who was trying to pretend she didn’t care.
After whispering excitedly to his sister, he ran over.
“Mr. Tomlinson! Mr. Tomlinson!”
Ace stopped and smiled as the kid ran up to him.
“Hi, Mr. Tomlinson!” He boy said, panting as he reached him.
“What’s up little man?” Ace replied smiling. “You can just call me Ace, by the way.”
The boy nodded grinning. “Could you sign my backpack, Ace?”
“Sure, thing. What’s your name?” Ace asked taking the boy’s backpack and marker that the boy brought with him.
“I’m Tim,” the boy said. “I want to be a Pokémon champion just like you someday!”
Ace smiled as he signed Tim’s backpack. “How old are you, Tim?”
“Nine years old!”
Ace wrote: To Tim, a future force to be reckoned with. -Ace Tomlinson
“Here you go.” Ace said, handing the backpack and marker back to Tim.
“I saw on TV how you won your match against Geeta up in Paldea!” Tim said, excitedly, putting his backpack back on. “Your Venusaur was so awesome! That means you’re a champion in two regions, right? Unova and Paldea? You’re the best in the world!”
Ace chuckled. “I appreciate that, Tim. I’ve come a long way. But I’m not the best in the world. There are trainers out there better than me.”
“No way! No one’s better than you, Ace!”
Tim suddenly became calmer and even looked little disappointed. “I wish I could be a trainer now. I heard that trainers used to start their journeys at ten years old, but now you have to wait until you’re eighteen. It’s not fair.”
Ace’s eyes softened. He knelt down so he could be more eye level with Tim.
“I get your frustration, Tim.” Ace said softly. “I used to feel the same way you did when I was your age. But Pokémon training is extremely dangerous. Too many kids were getting hurt because they weren’t prepared for the hazards of adventuring in the wilderness and how powerful Pokémon are. I know it’s annoying, but you’ll be glad that you finished your required trainer schooling and that you are a little older when you do begin your journey.”
Tim nodded. “Okay ... well, when I do become a trainer, I’m going to be powerful just like you!”
Ace chuckled. “I have no doubt. But also remember this: Champions aren’t made overnight. Did you know it took me three tries to get my very first badge? I struggled as a trainer in the beginning. But the important thing to remember is to love your Pokémon and treat them as your partners, not your tools. Learn from your losses and always trust in yourself.”
Tim nodded again, this time with his smile returned. “I will!”
“I gotta get going, but I’ll see you around, Tim.”
“Thanks, Ace!” Tim said before running back to his front porch.
As Ace continued his trek to Oak’s lab, a morbid thought entered his mind. He didn’t want to scare Tim. He was only nine years old after all.
The law raising the minimum age for trainers went into effect globally when Ace was about eight years old. The truth was that it was changed not just because kids were getting hurt, but because they were dying.
There were countless stories of ten-year-old trainers in the past getting lost in a forest or cave never to be seen again or for their mutilated bodies to turn up later.
There were also far too many reports of young trainers who were harmed and even killed from training their own Pokémon such as one where a Pikachu accidentally electrocuted its trainer and another where a Charmeleon incinerated its trainer when he apparently lost control.
The increased minimum age plus the mandatory trainer school requirements had cut down on the number injuries and deaths from Pokémon training significantly and ultimately were the right call.
Ace continued to walk as Oak’s massive lab loomed at the edge of Pallet Town.
With everything he’d been though, Ace suddenly realized how lucky he was to be alive.
Phillip Cole came up the lab path from the other direction with his hands shoved in his coat pockets and his hair doing the same chaotic thing it had done since they were fifteen.
“What up, loser?” he called to Ace when they saw each other.
“Not your skills, that’s for sure.” Ace retorted.
“Oh, so the Paldea Champion thinks he’s hot shit now.”
“I’ve been hot shit,” Ace scoffed. “Catch up or you’ll fuck around and lose that Kalos title of yours.”
Phillip grinned. “You look like garbage,”
“Fuck you. I’ve been awake since five.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Ace shrugged. Phillip let it go.
“You know what this is about?” Ace asked.
“No clue. My mom saw the lab lights on at three a.m. last week. For days.” Phillip said eyeing the entrance to the lab.
“That’s not a great sign,” Ace said in a low voice.
“No, it’s not.”
They didn’t say anything else. After a moment they proceed to the double doors of Professor Oak’s lab.
The aide who let them in was Michael, one of Oak’s seniors, and he wasn’t smiling either.
“Ace. Phillip. Glad you made it. Everyone’s waiting for you two.”
Michael led them inside. The corridor lights were dimmed, the morning bustle had been emptied out, and somewhere in the back of the building a preservation tank was venting; Ace could smell the faint cold-iron tang of it.
“Fourth floor,” Michael said. “They’ve been waiting.”
“They?” Phillip asked.
Michael held the elevator open. “You’ll see in a minute.”
Ace had been in Oak’s office suite a hundred times. He knew the bookshelves, the framed Mew sketch Oak had inherited from his grandfather, and the leather couches arranged around the low table.
What he didn’t recognize was the rest of the room.
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