Authors’ Note: 2.B.A. Master… bater is a work of parody. The AniMessenger asks all prudes to kindly go back to watching Veggie Tales.
2.B.A. Master… bater
Chapter Five: Misty Unmasked
Ash strode out of the PokéCenter with renewed vigor, Pikachu humming happily at his heels. He had only one thought—locate the Ginger Beauty and coerce her into entering the contest. After a while, Ash spotted Brock and Misty enjoying a picnic spread. They’d found a park near the PokéMart, and all the Pokémon now cavorted outside their balls.
“Ash!” Brock called. “Come on over and take a load off!”
The boy from Pallet smiled and crashed onto the grass with his crew. He shoveled a sandwich in as the Machiavellian gears grinded in his mind. How does one make an enemy a friend? Bend a maiden to one’s will?
“So, Ash,” Brock said, letting his Vulpix nibble a kibble from his palm, “you headed to the pond to catch a water Pokémon?”
“You smell terrible,” Misty interrupted. “Will you please, for the love of Lugia, go back to the PokéCenter and take a shower?”
“Well, before that, check this out.” Ash pulled the poster from his back pocket and unrolled it. “I’m going to win this Squirtle instead!”
“Uh, Ash,” Brock said, “I hate to break it to you, but that contest is for girls, not boys.”
“Yes, I know that, Brock. That’s why—”
“Huh-uh!” Misty exploded. “You better not say what I think you’re gonna say.”
“Please, just hear me out!”
“Absolutely not! I wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those pageants. They’re totally degrading!”
“Hold on,” Ash said, an idea popping into his head. “I have something to say.”
Ash surveyed his surroundings and locked onto a bench nearby. He stood atop it and cleared his throat. He had everyone’s attention now. Even Misty’s eyes softened for a moment. Behind her scowl and twitching eyebrow, Ash imagined, lied a blank canvas for him to paint.
“Misty,” Ash began. “I have something to tell you. I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be. But please, please, open your heart to what I’m about to say. You see, this whole journey so far has made me realize something. I don’t have much experience with girls. Talking with them, being around them … everything really. And that’s not an excuse for my behavior. What I’m really saying is—” He gulped. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And that’s why I wanted to ask you to enter the beauty contest. Because I’m one hundred percent certain that you will win. And anybody who disagrees with me is completely crazy!”
Misty stared intently at Ash. The boy held his breath. Her face relaxed and she sighed. Ash thought he saw the beginnings of a smile on her lips. Then, she stood up, wiped the grass from her skirt, and began to walk away.
“So—” Ash started.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, recalling her Pokémon and fading down the street.
“Wow, Ash,” Brock mused. “I have so much going through my mind right now.”
“Do you think she’ll enter the contest?”
“Huh?” Brock gathered the picnic supplies into his pack. “Oh, no, not about that. I was just thinking that it’s almost been an hour since Geodude did his last Full Body Tense.” Ash groaned as he and his clueless companion trekked ahead, back into the city. Within minutes, the pair found themselves in the Pewter hubbub once again. Brock led the pair into the PokéMart to restock on some key items.
“Here it is!” Brock exclaimed. “I’ve been looking for this item for ages!”
“What is it?”
“A PP Up.” Brock pulled the small box from the shelf. “So awesome.”
“What’s it do?”
“Well, I’m not entirely sure. But from what I’ve heard, it lengthens—y’know—your ‘PP.’ Who wouldn’t want that, right?”
“Yeah,” Ash said, walking away. “I don’t think that’s what it does. Plus, all this stuff is for Pokémon, not humans.”
“Oh!” Brock’s eyes popped. “You mean Geodude’s ‘PP’ will—”
Brock paid for his twenty boxes of PP Up and they made their way to the city square. Ash wanted to see the Gym up close. But, in no time, a gang of shirtless, muscular men lured Brock’s attention away.
“Look Ash!” Brock squealed. “They’re doing PokéRobics! I’ve gotta get in on this.”
“Wait, Brock, hold on!”
It was too late. Within minutes, Brock had infiltrated the motley crew’s ranks. He released all his Pokémon from their balls and joined the boisterous men’s orgy of flexing, hollering, and jumping jacks. Brock’s inhibitions melted away and he circled the Pokémon, cracking open a handful of Potions and lubing up every monster in sight.
“Hey, bro!” one of the strong men said. “Rub us down with some of that!”
Ash cringed as Brock massaged the potion into the muscle-men’s folds. He crept away just before the group initiated their inaugural round of Full Body Tense.
The fledgling trainer wandered on, alone, towards the Pewter City Gym. The sun had just begun to set, sparking off aurora beams in the sky. Ash considered whether he had ever seen such a stunning sight—besides Misty, of course. He gazed up at the Temple of Stone, its granite walls absorbing the celestial colors. He pictured himself walking through its doors, a Squirtle at his side. The barrier between dream and reality blurred in his mind. Ash laid on his side and drifted off in the shadow of the building.
Ash woke up in a frenzy. He had been submerged underwater! Flailing like a Magikarp, he thrashed his way to the surface and gasped oxygen back into his lungs.
“Morning, sleepy head!”
Ash’s eyes adjusted to see Misty grinning down from the shore in the pale light of dawn.
“Misty!” Ash shrieked. “Did you seriously throw me into this pond?”
“Pika pika!” his friend protested, tail whipping Misty’s legs.
“Hey, if you won’t bathe yourself, then someone has to force you to!”
Ash floundered and bumbled his way to the shore. Misty hoisted him up and wrapped him in a towel.
“Hurry up and dry off. Change into some fresh clothes, too. And a stick of gum wouldn’t hurt while you’re at it.”
“What’s the big rush?” Ask asked, toweling off his hair.
“Don’t tell me you forgot! The beauty contest is this morning. We need to get moving if we want to make it to the theater in time for registration.”
Ash’s heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, he realized the immense change in Misty’s appearance. She had put on makeup, let down her hair, and dressed herself in an azure sundress. Ash shifted under the towel, appreciating the censorship it provided for his Super Rod.
“Don’t get any weird ideas,” she said. “I’m only entering to impress my sisters. They think I’m the ugly duckling of the family. Winning the grand prize in this contest would be a good way to shut them up quick.”
Ash struggled to erase the image of Misty and her sisters playing in some Cerulean City pool, laughing and splashing in bikinis.
“Earth to Ash!”
“Sorry! I was just gonna say that, well, whatever the reason, I appreciate you doing this. It means a lot.”
“Well, save your appreciation for after I win. There’s no guarantees.”
“You’ll win,” Ash insisted. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”
Ash scurried behind a tree and yanked on some trousers and a T-shirt from his pack. They didn’t travel long before they encountered a long line of beauties, queued up breast to breast. Ash sucked in a drizzle of stray drool as Misty groaned in displeasure.
“This line is ridiculous,” Misty whined. “You know what, I’m starting to get second thoughts about—”
“No!” Ash screeched. A few of the ladies shot eye daggers in his direction. “Excuse me. I mean, it’ll be worth it! Besides, we don’t have anything else to do, right?”
Misty growled, but couldn’t disagree. After two grueling hours of silence, the companions at last approached the registration desk.
“Name,” a man at the desk said, monotone. “C’mon, sweety, what’s your name? I don’t have all day!”
“It’s Misty Waterflower, jeez!”
“Feisty,” the man retorted. “Bust size?”
“Excuse me?” Misty’s cheeks pinked up. “Why in the world do you need to know that?”
“We need your measurements, honey. For the pamphlet. We don’t do the measurements, we don’t do the pamphlet. You wanna screw this up for everyone else?”
“Fine!” She mumbled something, shying her eyes away. “There, write that down in your stupid pamphlet.”
“You’re gonna have to speak up, love!”
“Thirty-two bust and twenty-two waist!” she roared.
Ash’s brain instantly factored the data into his mental Misty Nude 3D Model, or MN3DM for short.
“Wipe that stupid look off your face, Ash Ketchum!” Misty barked. “Where do I sign? Let’s get this over with.”
The man tapped at a line on the paper and Misty whipped out her signature with a single flick.
“So, you just signed a release stating that we are not responsible for any harm that may befall you during the contest. Oh, and this is also a binding contract stating that you agree to participate in the Wet T-Shirt Contest, Lingerie Contest, Bikini Contest, and Body Paint Contest. Breaking this contract will result in a fine of up to 50,000 PokéDollars.”
“Hey, wait a second!” Misty bellowed, backing away from the desk. “I don’t agree to any of that! You know what, screw this! Take your money, I’m out of here!”
“We got a runner,” the man droned into a walkie-talkie hiding under the desk.
In an instant, a mustachioed man in a white jumpsuit galloped toward Misty and slung her over his back.
“Hup, hup, hup!” he repeated as he trotted her towards the theater.
“Put me down, you dummy!’ She struggled, but the man kept her clamped. “Ash Ketchum, this is all your fault! You’re gonna pay for this!”
Ash stumbled slowly towards the theater, a sweat bead dangling from his forehead. He could do nothing but pray that the contest organizers would spare her from anything too lewd. A sticky, tan hand clasped his shoulder.
“Hey, Ash!” Brock said. “Wanna go find our seats?”
“Ew! What is on your hands?”
“Oh.” Brock wiped his palms against his shirt. “Just some leftover lube from PokéRobics with the guys this morning. Sorry about that!”
“Okay, whatever,” Ash said. “Let’s go find a seat somewhere in the back. I don’t want Misty to see me.”
They pushed their way through the crowds and scanned the rows of chairs for an empty spot. Spectators packed the theater to maximum capacity, most paging eagerly through their Measurement Pamphlets. Brock and Ash found a pair of seats towards the front.
“This is way too close,” Ash complained. “She’ll definitely see us here.”
“Why don’t you want her to see you?”
Before Ash could answer, the stage lights dimmed and an old man, snappily dressed, adorned with monocle and cane, strode into the spotlight.
“Welcome, one and all to the Thirtieth Annual Pewter City Beauty Contest!” The crowd cheered. “Tonight, we have selected twenty young gals who we believe represent the best of the best in terms of beauty, grace, and style. Please join me in welcoming tonight’s contestants!”
The women paraded onto the stage, gowns flowing behind. Each dress had strategic slits down the sides to reveal as much skin as possible. The audience hooted and hollered. Ash studied Misty’s face. Every girl on stage had brought their widest smile, but she stood silent and stone-faced, eyes already stitched onto Ash as he sank lower in his seat. She glowered at him as if pondering the methods she would use to tear his limbs from his torso.
“Oh my goodness!” Brock shouted. “Who’s that one in the middle?”
“You mean the one with purple hair?” Ash said, squinting. “She looks familiar for some reason. And also, what is wrong with her butt?”
“I think it’s perfect,” Brock said, stuck in a trance. “She’s the best one of all.”
The purple-haired lass posed and winked for the audience. She had massive breasts, but they looked plastic. Inflatable, even. But Ash couldn’t take his eyes off her rear end—lumpy and uneven. It looked like she had filled her panties with rocks. As he continued to stare, he thought he could make out an outline of a face poking through the fabric. The contestant to her right also piqued his curiosity. A pale face crowned with long, crimson hair. She locked eyes with Ash for a moment, but promptly looked away and whistled.
“Beautiful,” the announcer continued. “Just a stunning group here, don’t you think? Now, we will go down the line and each contestant will introduce themselves and state what they believe is their greatest quality.”
The beauties each took their turn in the spotlight, flashing smiles and bragging about charities, personal accomplishments, and Pokémon League rankings. The crowd reacted with vigorous applause. Then, the light shone on the lumpy-bummed woman.
“My name is Ja—” the contestant began in a low voice. She cleared her throat. My name is Jamie. Jamie Buttram. And I think everyone can see what my best quality is. Or should I say qualities?” She smooshed her boobs together. “You likey? And don’t forget this bad boy!” She bent over and spanked herself on the tushy. Ash swore he heard someone scream in pain at that exact moment. The audience ate it up—their applause building into a cacophony.
“Looks like we have a front-runner, folks!” the announcer frothed, pointing his cane at Ms. Buttram. “Moving along—what’s your name, miss?”
“Jess—” The crimson lady covered her mouth and coughed. “Excuse me! It’s Jessica. Jessica. Jessica, er, C-c-cox?”
“Jessica Cacacox, eh? What a lovely name. Ms. Cacacox, what is your greatest quality?”
“Well, I suppose I’m good at tying people up.” The crowd gasped. “W-w-with good conversation, I mean! They get so tied up in what I’m saying, they just can’t bear to leave me!”
“That’s just dandy!” The spotlight drifted over to Misty. She crossed her arms. “Now then, we come to this gorgeous dame! What a beautiful head of hair you have, dear.”
“Gee, thanks.” Misty spat into the microphone.
“You’re most welcome. Your name, dear?”
“Misty Waterflower. And I don’t have any good qualities. In fact, I am nothing compared to these women—at least in terms of looks. Well, except for maybe that one.” She nodded over to a fuming Jamie Buttram. “I can’t even believe I’m up here right now. In fact, if it weren’t for this annoying kid named Ash Ketchum, I would be somewhere else completely!”
“Oh, my!” The announcer adjusted his monocle and scanned the crowd. “Now that is a charming story! Is this Ash Ketchum here today?”
“Yeah, right there.” She pointed directly at her cowering compadre. “That goofball in the blue vest and Pokémon League hat. He’s the one responsible for this entire disaster!”
The audience hushed. The room rustled with the sound of everyone at once turning to gawk at the boy from Pallet. He squirmed in his seat, fluttering out a nervous laugh.
“There he is!” the announcer proclaimed. “Come now, boy, stand up and let us all applaud you for inspiring this fine young lady to take our stage tonight!”
Ash’s legs propelled him against his will. He stood and smiled, scratching his head as the room ratcheted up its adulations. Then, slowly, the clapping died out. Ash looked puzzled. He peeked from face to face—some wore grimaces, some raised eyebrows, some deep frowns. Misty buried her head in her hands and groaned. Ash felt something in his pants. A shot of adrenaline cracked through his system as reality closed in on him. He peered down at the throbbing Silph Scope pitching a tent in his trousers.
“I-i-it appears,” the announcer stuttered, “that this Ash Ketchum. Er, um, has—has an erection. Quite impressive.”
The crowd erupted into a rollicking bout of laughter. Ash melted to the floor and crawled under the chair, punishing his member with his fists.
“Why does this keep happening?” he thought to himself. “It’s like I get a boner every minute! A boner when I’m happy, horny, nervous, sad!”
Every fiber of Ash’s being called for him to make a run for it. Leave Pewter City and never return. Start the journey over again in Cerulean. Alone. With a new name, a new outfit, a new everything. He spied the exit and readied himself for a sprint. This whole incident, Ash convinced himself, would eventually fade away. But first he must disappear.
“On the count of three,” he thought. “One… two…”
“Now hold on a minute!” Jamie squawked. “This is a beauty contest, not an exhibition! This entire thing has gone completely off the rails! We—I mean—I came here to get that Squirtle and I’m not leaving until I do.” The crowd’s attention drifted back to the stage. “But if that little circus act is the kind of thing that’s going to win the grand prize, then I guess I have no choice. Say hello to momma’s Bulbasaurs!”
Jamie Buttram yanked at her collar, tearing her dress clean down the middle. Her enormous bosoms flopped out into the free air.
“Take this!” she screamed, clutching her orbs and boxing them against Misty’s face. “And this! And that! And some o’ these!”
“Get off of me, you weirdo!” Misty collapsed onto her back. Jamie continued to pummel her with titanic force. “Somebody help!”
“Okay, show’s over, everyone!” said a voice from Ms. Buttram’s rear end. Jamie’s panties stretched from underneath her dress—a tumor expanding until it formed legs, feet, and a strange oval-shaped face. A paw burst from Jamie’s undergarments. Claws extended, slashing the pants-prison to ribbons. Jamie reared back, freeing Misty, and assumed a live-birth position. She contracted, and a writhing feline dropped from her loins.
“Meeeeeowth!” the Pokémon crooned. “Dat was about all the time in James’ Safari Zone I could take!”
“Hey!” Brock shouted. “Those aren’t beauty contestants! That’s Team Rocket!”
The crowd gasped at the unexpected revelation. Brock continued: “But I don’t see Jessie! And, hey! Where did Jessica Cacacox go?”
“I guess the jig is up,” Jamie moaned, assuming his low voice again. He snapped his dress off with a windmill motion. Inflatable breasts escaped from the fabric and floated to the ceiling. There stood James in a fresh Team Rocket uniform.
“But it’s too late! You see, Jessica Cacacox is actually Jessie! And she’s already stolen the Squirtle and readied our getaway car!”
“Wait!” Brock whooped, pointing towards the emergency exit. “Jessie’s right there! Right next to the stage!”
The spotlight swooped onto the Rocketeer. She hunched, her beauty attire strewn behind her, with a Squirtle in a metal cage balanced on her back.
“You idiots!” Jessie strained. “You couldn’t have kept the act going for one more minute! You realize how heavy this thing is?”
“Yeah, you dope!” Meowth concurred, leaping and slashing the back of his purple-headed partner’s head. “You just had to air out those bazoongas and ruin our perfect Smokescreen!”
“Ah, well,” James sighed, pulling a rose from under his shirt. “Let’s at least do the motto!”
Prepare for leather, James started.
And for pleasure! said Jessie, dropping the Squirtle and vaulting back onto the stage.
To explore the depths—
“Pikachu, Thunder attack!”
A yellow blast of energy crackled through the theater ceiling and engulfed the trio. They convulsed—ululating under the sustained pummel of Pikachu’s electric magic. It set off an explosion under their feet, launching them into the stratosphere just before they reminded everyone listening that:
“Team Rocket’s jacking off again!”
Ash soon realized that Pikachu’s attack had reduced the entire building to rubble. Yet, somehow, Ash, Brock, Misty, Pikachu, the announcer, and the caged Squirtle had all landed in a neat pile together among the debris. The trainer surveyed the wreckage, but couldn’t spot anyone else. Had he just murdered an entire theater full of people?
“Goodness gracious!” The announcer coughed, standing up and whipping the dust from his suit. Ash and company, dazed and confused, struggled to find their footing. “Young man, that was an incredible act of heroism! This city is forever indebted to you for eradicating the grave threat of Team Rocket! How! How, I say, can we ever repay you?”
“Well,” Ash said, “I was hoping I could get my hands on a Squirtle?”
“A Squirtle?” the old man replied. “Well, what a coincidence! I just happen to have a Squirtle right here in this cage!”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Misty rumbled. “You are a piece of work, Ash Ketchum.” The red-head gathered the remains of her dress and ambled away from the others. “This is goodbye! I’m done with all you creeps! I’m going back to Cerulean City. We never should’ve met. This was all a mistake!”
Brock clasped Ash’s shoulder again. But this time, the Pewter man did not wear his trademark expression of naivete. Brock’s eyelids opened a sliver, and the rare glimpse of his pupils stilled the young man’s mind. Ash had really blown it this time. This time, he couldn’t make it up to her.
Ash and Brock rented out a room in the PokéCenter for the night. After Brock fell asleep, Ash and Pikachu snuck out into the starlight. They sat at the edge of the pond that Misty had tossed him in that morning. He fished and fished. Magikarp after Magikarp until, at long last, he captured a Poliwhirl.
“That’ll do,” Ash said.
“Pika,” his friend agreed.
“Just one more thing to take care of.”
Ash and Pikachu hiked all night. Past the city limits and to the very edge of Route 3. There they found her, slumbering in her sleeping bag, underneath a beech tree. Ash tiptoed over and rested a Poké Ball next to her head.
“I’m sorry, Misty,” he whispered. “This Squirtle belongs to you.”
The boy and his monster began their long journey back to the city. He didn’t have time for regrets. He had a Pokémon to train and a gym leader to defeat. Ash replaced his thoughts of Misty’s body with thoughts of conquest. As they made tracks away from their ex-companion, they couldn’t know that she had taken the Poké Ball and pressed it close to her heart. They didn’t see the tears dripping onto its red and white surface. And they didn’t hear her say,
“Every time I think I’m done with you, you draw me right back in.”
And, please remember: