It’s that time again. Saturday. Or, to use the colloquial name, Lemonday. So hike up your skirts, let down your hair, untangle your undie-bunches, and dive into the ridiculum!
Authors’ Note: 2.B.A. Master… bater is a work of parody. The AniMessenger asks those offended by such silliness to kindly close this tab.
2.B.A. Master… bater
Chapter Two: The Dip of Destiny
It was morning. Ash awoke to the pleasant sensation of a light breeze running across his forehead. The aura was peaceful and quiet, save for a strange rustling sound nearby. Ash rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, sat up, and perked his ears. Like a Rhyhorn on the hunt, instinct told him to investigate. Sneaking away from the campground, he cautiously peeked his head around a large tree.
There stood Misty, in the final stages of her morning transformation. To Ash’s disbelief, he had managed to catch a glimpse of his goddess’ intimate underthings. His mouth gaped at the sight of laced panties and his eyes raced over each curve, drinking in the smoothness. Somehow seeing Misty in the wild, Pokémon-like, only enhanced his lust. A squeak escaped his throat. Misty jolted and shrieked, careening to the grass.
“Turn around, you perv!” she commanded.
“S-s-sorry Misty! I—”
“Don’t say another word!” She zipped up her shorts and stumbled to her feet. The tone of her skin matched her hair as she stomped towards Ash with her backhand cocked. “You little—”
“Guys, guys!” Brock interceded. “Getting along as usual, I see.”
“Tell this punk to stay away from me!” Misty said, fuming, and storming ahead. “Let’s go, Brock. That swim sounds better and better the more I have to suffer in this God-forsaken forest.”
“She’s right, Ash,” Brock said. “We need to get moving. It’ll be at least two hours on foot, not counting breaks! Get dressed and catch up—I don’t think Misty’s gonna wait for you.”
“Okay, okay,” Ash moaned. He wadded up his sleeping bag and dove into a dirty pair of jeans. Pikachu grabbed Ash’s backpack and attempted to hoist it up, but collapsed.
“Chu!” he squealed.
“Thanks, buddy,” Ash said through a chuckle. “You don’t think I’m a perv, right?”
“Pika…” the electric rat responded, scratching his head.
The morning wore on. Ash cursed under his breath at the sun beating down through the trees. At least thirty yards separated him from his two pals. He felt the distance between himself and Misty—it continued to widen with each passing day—and each day he devised a new plan to inch closer to her loins. Today he’d make up for his blunders. He’d impress her somehow.
Hoots and hollers shot up into the sky from the distance. Splashing and laughter. Ash broke into a sprint, leaving Pikachu in the dust, and cursing with renewed vigor at the thought of missing even a second of Misty’s exposed body. He approached the edge of the pond and disrobed faster than a Rattata’s Quick Attack. He dove in, head first.
The water glittered in the sun. Warm rays bathed the three amigos and kept their shoulders huddled under the surface. Ash welcomed the star’s blessing. Its benevolent gaze had conjured a vision before him: she sported a skimpy bikini—royal blue. The red of her hair captured light, charged with the intensity of a Charizard’s Fire Blast. Her water element soul clashed with the flames and sent Ash’s hormones into a frenzy. He paddled nearer to her. She didn’t see him coming. Just one graze of the hand against her lower cakes would do the trick. Even if the act didn’t awaken her dormant desires, he could easily explain it away. Just a few more inches and—
“Huyah!” cried Misty’s Staryu.
The water-monster intervened. In an instant, a shaft of water pinned Ash to Misty’s back. She howled and plunged beneath the surface. Ash lost his footing and straddled her neck for balance. Misty’s muted screams bubbled up from below as Ash scrambled to dismount her. She popped out of the water and her breasts bobbled against Ash’s face. His nose caught against her bikini top and snapped it away.
Two luscious mounds, completely exposed.
Ash’s jaw dropped. Gleaming, porcelain skin. The supple curvature of each ripened mammary gland. Ash felt a torrent of drool spill from his trembling lips. He gawked at Misty’s shapely form and the pale tone of her skin. There were no flaws or imperfections, no beauty marks or moles. Only sweet, sweet melons poised in suspended animation before Ash’s face. If only he could observe their globularity even closer…
“BAKA!” Misty’s scream echoed through the grove, snapping Ash out of his reverie. “Idiot—find my top!” came the divine commission from Ash’s idol.
Breasts no longer exposed, Misty eased herself into the water’s protective shade. Ash’s only hope for another display was to do exactly as his goddess had asked: to search for (and destroy) that top. Taking a deep breath, the boy from Pallet Town plunged below the waves. Groping about with both hands, he thought to himself: “It couldn’t have sunk far! Or could it? I have no idea how long I was staring—it felt like an eternity…”
Gyrating in frenzied circles beneath the sea—his worming motion not unlike that of a panicked Gyarados searching for a lost egg—Ash flailed his arms, his thoughts steadied by the prospect of Misty emerging from the waters. Jettisoning his hands in front of his body, Ash swept water towards himself, gathering momentum. He then lifted his legs, locked his torso, and propelled downward with a froglike motion.
Ash paddled into the depths. Soon he was enveloped by gloom, a shimmer of light the only thing orienting him to the surface above. The inklike darkness was what Ash imagined Pokémon Tower must feel like—if he could ever reach it. At this rate, his “quest” would most certainly amount to nothing. Just when he was about to give up, he felt the soft tickle of Misty’s brassiere on his fingers.
“Now this is a piece of rare candy!” Ash snickered to himself.
Polyester prize in hand, Ash rocketed toward the surface. Tones of grey slowly gave way to the brilliant aura of summertime in Viridian. Gasping for oxygen, Ash forced himself through the surf, his head crowning from the womb of the sea in a manner akin to the live birth of a Slowbro. Radiant with enthusiasm, he presented the peace offering to Misty. An expression of relief set in, and the redheaded vixen softened her glare, but she snapped the illicit garment from Ash as soon as it grazed her palm.
Misty inhaled and exhaled in gusts. With precision, she re-strapped her top and then swam to shore without a glance towards Ash. She wrapped herself in a towel and withdrew her Pokémon back into their balls. Ash followed her back, fumbling through apologies in his head, but he could only open and close his mouth like a Magikarp.
“Ash,” Misty said, breaking the silence. “Listen and listen closely.”
Ash swallowed, humbled by the dormant flames smoldering behind her water-blue irises.
“From this moment forward,” she continued, “I am officially shunning you. That means I will not talk to you. I will not look at you. You are like a Ghost Pokémon to me—invisible unless summoned. So, make it easier on yourself, and keep your distance. Don’t talk to me, don’t leer at me with your hentai eyes. Just leave me alone.”
With that, she marched towards the western wall of woods.
Ash stood by the now-calmed waters, paralyzed in thought.
And, please remember: