THE THREE POKÉBALLS

The Three Pokéballs: A Rocketshipping Fairytale.

Language, adult concepts, first person pov.

This is mostly rocketshipping – but homophobes please stay far, far away. From my fic and, preferably, from me.

This is an alternate-universe fic, in which James and Meowth never reunited with Jesse during "Bad to the bone." I stole, um, pastiched Cassidy's official Team Rocket title and the whole delightful Posh'n'Becks thing from dear Zelda.

Dedicated, as always, to my angel Hecate – who is responsible for the contents of Miyamoto's magic pokéballs. I wash my hands of it, especially the third pokéball… ::giggle:: This is also dedicated to a certain homophobic young rocketshipper who made me determined to show just how queer rocketshipping really can be. :)

Part One: At the Foot of the Glass Mountain

Once there was a princess so beautiful that her father hid her away on top of a glass mountain, with sides so slippery that none could scale it. Seven years she waited, until finally, a princess was carried to the top by a giant eagle, and he brought the princess down. But the prince had business in his own land, so, leaving the princess with kind people, he returned to his own people, promising that he would return and claim his bride by giving her half of his naming ring, the princess of the glass mountain retaining the other. So the princess awaited the return of her lover…

This story begins with the lovely, charming princess (three guesses, dear readers) escaping her own particular Glass Mountain. Unfortunately, she had to leave the equally lovely and charming prince behind.

It wasn't actually as hard a decision as you might have thought. As the prince spent most of his free time trying on my dresses, and had never, not once, attempted to slip in a grope, no matter how many times I fear-hugged him… Well, I was beginning to come to terms with the fact that I wasn't going to ride off on his white rapidash anytime soon. I'd waited two years – I couldn't have survived the traditional seven.

There was a time when I tried to convince myself that James borrowing my underwear meant he had certain special feelings for me. Then I asked Meowth a few questions about what kind of prince wears his princess' favourite pushup-bra and lacy knickers to work, and gave up all hope.

As I wandered despondently around Vermilion City, I wondered if I'd actually made a massive miscalculation. Maybe James was actually a girl, albeit one even flatter-chested than Misty. Inflatables aside, I mean. And a lot less butch than the twerpette, too…

Maybe, I speculated, I should have set up Little Ms. "I can detect any lesbian inclinations in any breeder chick" Cassidy to see if I had any chance with her. I mean, him. I have no interest in that stuck-up bitch at all. And my decision has *nothing* to do with the fact that she hung around me for years, and then, when I finally decided to give the sapphic thing a go, she said she was too good for me anyway. Bitch. No, definitely him… Although, I realised, if James was really Jamie, it *would* be "her."

I shook my head, trying to clear it without messing up my hair. Exhaustion or hunger or hairspray abuse or something was fucking up my usually crystal-clear and brilliant logic. Of course James wasn't a girl. I'd held him tight enough during some of those - perfectly justifiable for mutual support – clinches to be sure of *that*…

Anyway, I'd long since come to the conclusion that Team Rocket was my own particular glass mountain. The uniforms and the bad-girl cachet rocked, sure, but the pay, the accommodation, the frequent humiliation and the regular electrocution by a prepubescent boy's pet really sucked. It just wasn't all a fabulously beautiful, brilliant woman like me so obviously deserved. So…

Well, it hurt a bit to leave James and Meowth, I won't pretend otherwise. But I guess I always assumed they'd find me again… And, after they had kissed my fuckme-boots sufficiently, I would graciously allow them to persuade me to take them back. With a due show of reluctance. It was what I'd intended all along.

Pity they never showed up.

Some friends… And I'd even stolen an extra set of badges as a surprise for James, when he turned up.

Pity, really, that stealing badges isn't enough to win at the Pokémon League. I'd almost forgotten they also require you to win some matches at some point… Stupid pettifogging regulations. If I'd had time to plan, I would have stolen some money for bribes, or seduced some of the Jennies behind the Joys' backs, or something. As it was, I had to fight the old-fashioned way, without cheating.

That should have warned me. I'd learned what a loser's game that was in the Princess Festival. Stupid Psyduck. I hate psyducks even more than I hate charizards, which is saying something.

Still, the Princess Day hadn't been *all* bad. I found Lickitung, for a start, and scored some great new clothes. And not only had my teammates been kinda sweet over the whole disaster, but the hour in the dressing room with the baby dyke twerp had been… instructive. Cassidy used to react similarly when I slapped her, if I remember rightly. It had been a pleasant interval during two years in which my most intense erotic experiences tended to be marred by the terror of death or serious injury.

Speaking of pokémon I hate - for no particular reason - it was a ghastly that knocked Arbok out, in round one. One psychic blast, and my poor baby was unconscious. Maybe, on reflection, I should have spent more time at Pokémon Tech listening to boring lectures on pokémon type weaknesses, and less time exchanging eyeliner tips with James.

To add insult to injury, Lickitung was disposed of by a raticate, of all things. I'm glad Cassidy wasn't there to see my humiliation. She would have laughed her tits off, which would have been a pity, for more than one reason. Not that they compare with mine, of course...

Maybe I misjudged the whole Pokémon Master career path… I do think James and Meowth could have shown up to watch, though.

My only consolation is that the twerp was knocked out in the first round too, by the Astounding Kiss-My-Ass Mandy. Which means that James and Meowth and I spent two years of our lives chasing a pokémon that couldn't make it to round two of the Pokémon League. I told you it was no life for someone of my looks and talents…

I didn't see James anywhere. Not that I cared… I did hear a rumour that Mandy went home with some girl with pretty lilac-blue hair, but that doesn't mean anything. Anything at all.

It certainly wasn't why I posed under the moonlight that night, cherry blossoms swirling around me while I clasped my favourite white lace bra to my face and tears streamed down my cheeks. As the split seams from over padding proved, it had been my ex-partner's favourite bra, too.

Okay, so maybe I missed him a little…

TBC…. Introducing Miyamato as the Fairy Godmother and Cassidy as the evil princess. Plus possibly Giovanni as a troll…