By Maia's Pen
Disclaimer: I only own my fondness for Gary Oak.
WARNING: I have rated this story 'TEEN' for some adult innuendos/situations and alcohol use. If you are uncomfortable with 'sexual humor' you may not want to read, just sayin'.
Dedication: I started writing this story back in 2008 as a 'gift' for my fellow Ego-lover, paintedbynumbers (also known as nikegoddess_ ) Recently my writers flame has been reignited and I decided to finish it. I want to thank paintedbynumbers for building Egoshipping Central on LJ with me years ago. Although life has kept us both unbearably busy, we both remain ever-faithful to the Ego-love. Cheers to you my friend, should this story ever find your sight.
Story Art: Please visit my website: egoshipper dot com For cover art by wooserr.
0o0o0o0o0o00o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0 0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Gary Oak swirled the olive around his empty Martini glass. He didn't care for olives and he was bored. Therefore he entertained himself by counting how many times the tiny fruit could race around the circumference of the glass before his wrist began to cramp. The answer was seventy-seven and now Gary's wrist was going to need an ice-pack. He was also in need of another drink, preferably something stronger than a Martini. However, it was risky to voyage across the hotel ballroom to the bar. The room was packed with hundreds of people, all of whom would love to surround Gary, and talk his ear off should he dare to venture into the heart of this celebration. Well, at least it was an open bar, free booze might be worth the journey.
Gary pulled his attention from the Martini glass and allowed his sight to roam about the grand room. Lavish white decorations were strung up all over the place. The room was designed to emulate a fairytale setting, but the grotesque amounts of white decor everywhere had Gary wondering if he should have adorned a snow suit instead of a tuxedo? The setting seemed more like a bizarrely creepy winter wonderland to him. The ballroom walls were painted white to begin with, but the decorating committee had secured satin white bows on the chandlers and added frilly white lace to the already white curtains. There were white candles sitting next to white silken potpourri party-favors which were placed beside creamy white chocolate mints on the white table cloths next to chairs with fluffy-white covers . . . BLAH! White, white, white! Gary silently prayed that his sight be spared permanent damaged after being forced-fed the same blank shade for hours on end. He had read stories in National Poke'graphic Magazine of arctic explorers straining their retinas after prolonged exposure to the bleak frozen tundra.
Gary redirected this focus upon the human occupants that shared this tundra with him. He would rather chance being sucked into a conversation about Weedle reproduction than stare at these decorations anymore.
Thankfully, aside from the bride herself, none of the other guests were wearing white clothes. The guests were appropriately dressed in their finest gowns and tuxedos. Couples were slow dancing to some sappy love song in every direction. As much as Gary was not enjoying himself, he at least had to admit that dinner – which was an hour ago—was pretty incredible. The feast was comprised of five courses from appetizers to salads to soups to main dishes to the grand finale: the wedding cake. The open bar didn't hurt either.
Overall Gary had to hand it to Ash Ketchum: the Pokemon Master knew how to get married in style!
Ah, yes . . . Ash Ketchum, Pokemon Master for three months had met his fiancée – correction – new wife, at his Master Coronation Ceremony. The woman, Cindy Lou Louie – correction – Cindy Lou Ketchum, was a lovely woman of forty three years. This made Cindy Lou twenty years Ash's senior. The new Mrs. Ketchum stood six feet tall, had long bleach blond hair and flawless tanned skin. It was evident to everyone why she won the title of 'Miss Kanto' three years in a row . . . ten years ago. Cindy Lou was a Beauty Queen from her fake blond hair to her manicured toes. But her most eye-popping feature was her bosom, which bore a striking resemblance to a pair of round, plump Igglybuffs nestled side-by-side.
Gary had seen a lot of bosoms in his day – real ones, fake ones, big ones, small ones – but these were just unreal in their sheer size, roundness and buoyancy. Cindy Lou's wedding gown was whiter than the ballroom with a deep-plunging neck-line that flaunted her Igglybuffs to one and all. She may have been dressed in virgin-colored robes, but Gary would bet a Master Ball that Cindy Lou had ten times the bedroom experience than her new husband.
Was Cindy Lou a gold-digger? Probably. But still, Gary was glad for Ash anyway. Ash was ogling over his voluptuous bride throughout the entire ceremony. And, Gary had to smirk, in this moment Ash looked incredibly blissful dancing with his wife. Ash smiled dreamily, his head smushed between the Igglybuffs like he were being tucked into bed. It looked like Ash could quite possibly suffocate between those knockers, but hey, at least he'd die a happy man!
Gary forced himself to look away before he either started laughing out loud or puked. He didn't need to watch Ash feel-up his bride's breasts with his cheeks.
Ew, gross. This was probably Ash's first time ever feeling a boob.
Gary noticed that his own date (and former girlfriend), Anita, was dancing with Brock Stone beside the newlyweds. Gary and Anita had been seeing one another for about two months, and it had become clear that things were not going to work out long-term. Anita was a nice girl, but immature and kind of stupid. She always called his Balstoise a 'Cute big Squirtle-poo', which irritated him to no end. Come to think of it, Anita was like a mini-version of Ash's wife: blond, tan and big chested, only she stood 5'3". Gary and Anita had ended their relationship last week, but he allowed her to accompany him to the wedding for two reasons:
First: Anita had already bought a dress.
Second: Gary was NOT going to show up solo to Ashy-boy's wedding.
Gary and Anita were certainly not on great terms, especially since their break-up involved her spilling his entire 4,069 Pokeball collection across his laboratory floor. But Gary didn't have to hang out with her, just show up with her so as not to look like a dateless loser . . . which, Gary mused, had apparently back-fired since Anita was now in Brock's arms. Ah well, Gary took comfort in the fact that he was both an Oak and famous, and probably couldn't look like a loser if he tried. It was a gift.
Anita and Brock seemed to be hitting it off. They danced as though they were wrapped in a Tentacool's Constrict attack, totally pressed together. Brock looked like he were going to experience an orgasm every time Anita's leg brushed his.
"Amateur." Gary scoffed, setting his empty glass on the table. He stood up to his full height and stretched before starting his quest across the room toward the bar. He paused momentarily to study his reflection in one of the white-framed windows. Gary hated to admit it, but he looked tired. Countless late nights conducting research were beginning to take their toll. Just the hint of a shadow hung below his eyes as proof. Summoning some bravado, Gary grinned at his reflection anyway. Even sleep-deprived he did look especially dapper tonight. His classic black and white tuxedo fit him flawlessly, and the vest layered beneath was the shade of a wild Seadra. The vest matched his eyes as though the color had been custom blended for him, oh wait, it had been.
Gary raked a hand through his unruly cinnamon spikes of hair, he had entertained the idea of smoothing them down for the wedding, but decided they looked best doing their own thing, just like him.
Gary caught his reflective-self frowning as a young lady rushed up behind him and squealed: "Ohhh, it's Professor Gary Oak!"
Gary forced his lips into an impeccable, well-practiced smile as he turned to face this random fangirl. She was leggy and attractive with Murkrow-black hair. The young woman's eyes were wide, clearly star-struck. Gary was accustomed to such awed reactions from the ladies (and often some of the men). This was the fifteenth time one of the wedding guests had cornered him to express their admiration.
"Professor Oak! I'm SUCH a huge fan. I love your books and I watch your tv show every Friday night. I saw your special on Eevee evolution three times!" The girl was trembling with delight.
"Thank you." Gary meant it, though he wasn't in the mood for small-talk unless he had another alcoholic beverage. Fortunately for the young lady Gary was raised in the spotlight and was well-versed in the role he had to play. "What might your name be?" Gary took her hand and laid a slow kiss upon her knuckles.
"Ohhh!" She swooned, dramatically fanning herself with her free hand. "My name is Darla, and I just can't believe I'm talking to THE Professor Gary Oak!"
Gary grinned appreciatively, gently squeezing Darla's fingers. Her face flushed as though a Charmander were breathing on her neck. "I guess today is your lucky day and mine."
"Ohhh! You are as charming as the gossip sites say! Could I bother you for an autograph?"
"I'll do better." Operating on cute-girl-autopilot, Gary whipped out a business card. "Here's my social media contacts and cellphone number. Message me if you're ever in Viridian City, we'll do drinks."
Darla clutched the business card as though it were a legendary Poke'egg.
"Have a nice evening, Darla." Gary released her and continued his journey to the bar. The smile was already melting from his handsome face. Gary already regretted giving Darla his cellphone number. There was nothing wrong with her — she was a perfectly nice, eager, attractive fan-girl— but that was just the problem.
As the young professor moved through the crowd, the guests began to whisper and point. Gary struggled to maintain his 'cheerful celebrity facade'. He did not want to disappoint a single fan, but he was tired and he just wanted to crawl back to his hotel room for a goodnight's sleep. The only thing keeping Gary at the reception was a promise he had made to his grandfather. The senior Professor Oak had made the junior one swear that he would not be 'rude' and retire to his hotel room before the party was over. His grandfather was away on an important research expedition and could not attend. Therefore Gary was representing the Oak family in his steed. Unfortunately for Gary none of the wedding guests looked even remotely ready for bed. Gary was just going to have to play his celebrity role for a while longer.
Gary was only twenty-three years old, but he had already published four texts on Pokemon evolution and genetics. He was also the host of a weekly primetime program on the Discovery Pokemon Network called 'Evolution with Dr. Oak'. Yes, Gary had completed his Ph.D in Pokemon Evolution at the ripe old age of twenty. Last fall he had been listed as one of Poke People Magazine's '50 Hottest Bachelors'. Gary had never been a stranger to female attention, but these past few years had been . . . overwhelming. Gary had dated more than 40 women in the last year alone. He could no longer recall the exact number, but 40 was a reasonable ballpark figure.
At first the lusty hurricane of attention had been exhilarating! It was any guys dream come true having girls fawn over you day and night. But Gary's last break-up had been truly exhausting . . . stacked upon his fifty-plus hour work week, Gary was becoming dull to the masses of meaningless relationships and flings. Not that he wanted to be married like Ash or anything, it's just that he wanted to meet a girl that inspired him to want more . . . more than just some casual sexual fun. After having 40 something ladies on his arm over the past year, and not experiencing a second thought about one of them, Gary was starting to wonder if there were any ladies in existence who were capable of romantically holding his interest anymore? Granted there were plentiful females capable of holding his attention . . . anatomically speaking, but, Gary craved having his mind stimulated as well. He was so easily bored, and he had no patience for dumb, flighty girls who said 'yes' to everything and were constantly trying to appease him. These girls were a dime a dozen and were Muk in his hands before he even asked them out.
Where was the chase? The thrill? The challenge? Were there no girls left on this planet that could make him blush for a change? Make him fight to win their affections? Quite frankly this line of thought was starting to concern him. Could it be that he, Gary Oak, had a problem? Hell, Anita even seemed to enjoy Brock Stone's company over his, and THAT was saying something! Or maybe just being at this lovely-dovey wedding was starting to screw with his imagination?
As Gary contemplated his dating woes, he realized that he had finally completed his voyage back to the bar. Luckily it was not crowded as most of the guests were dancing the night away on the floor. In fact there was only one other person sitting at the bar right now: a petite, slender and notably attractive red-head. This girl was familiar . . . what was her name again? Ditzy? Kristy? Oh . . . that's right Misty. 'Misty' with an 'M' like Magmar, and her hair was the same exotic shade as the Pokemon's flame. Gary recognized her as one of Ash's annoying childhood lackeys, and the current owner of the Cerulean City Gym. Otherwise he really didn't know much about her. . .
Forget the alcohol, Gary's sights now greedily indulged by drinking Misty's image. Her skin was smooth and fair like cream. Cream that poured over a figure which was slender and curvey in all the best places. Her body was chaliced within a dress dyed to match a cherry cosmopolitan and it streamed to her ankles. This delicious dress revealed just enough skin to leave Gary's sights thirsting for more. Misty's hair flowed past her shoulders like a waterfall of orange liquor and he imagined it smelled just as sweet. Her lips were pouty, enticing and Gary craved to sample them, to nibble her perfect appetizers before devouring the rest. But Misty's most delectably mesmerizing features were her eyes – they were intense and vibrant like mint. The perfect garnish on a perfectly mouthwatering cocktail. Gary Oak was suddenly very thirsty.
The young professor had now been drooling over the red-head for several obvious moments. Despite this, Misty did not once glance in his direction. How odd. Most ladies would be pleading for an autograph by now. Could it be that Misty did not notice him? Gary scoffed inwardly, that was hardly possible. He was going to contribute her lack of swooning to the fact that there were FIVE empty Martini glasses scattered around her, and, that she was expertly downing another one at this moment.
My-oh-my the red-head could drink!
The bartender appeared to take Gary's order.
"I'll have whatever she's having." He gestured to Misty who, only now, glanced his way.
Gary expected her eyes to light-up upon seeing a celebrity beside her, but instead Misty narrowed them into scary green slits. His exotic cocktail had been replaced by something so sour and rotten that a sip would make you puke for a week! Gary returned her putrid reaction with a grimace. Was her vision blurry or something?
The bartender handed Gary a Chocolate Martini. He hadn't wanted another Martini, but he'd never tried the chocolate variety before. Experimentally Gary took a sip: it was creamy, chocolaty with just enough burn. Attempting to sate the red-headed beauty, Gary proclaimed: "It's good!" and raised his glass. But her hand shot out of nowhere out and seized the beverage from his hand! Gary hadn't a nano-second to react before Misty had guzzled the entire Martini down! What a greedy Snorlax!
"You're … welcome?" Gary forced a tight, albeit awkward smile and Misty's rotting façade dissolved into one with more semblances to a Magikarp who was drunk out of its mind! Only cuter.
"Gary Oakie?" Misty blinked as if straining to see him clearly, though he was only an arms-length away. "Thanks for the-the drink, you snob." Misty slurred, smiling that goofy Magikarp smile. Gary startled himself when he pulled his barstool closer to her. Usually anyone who called him 'Gary Oakie' (or 'snob' for that matter) would be placed on a 'do not talk to' list but — for utterly irrational reasons— he found Misty's silly drunken smile . . . enchanting.
"So, are you having fun?" Gary asked, casually brushing his arm against hers. Misty seemed oblivious to their close contact.
She released a sexy little laugh. "Nope, not having fun."
"Why is that?"
"Dammit1" Misty slapped the counter top making the empty glasses rattle. "I'm still single! Can you BELIEVE IT? All of my sisters are married, my friends are married! And now even Ash— Ash Ketchum! Has beaten me to the-the alter!" With extreme melo-drama Misty buried her face in her hands, sighing as though she were starring in a Broadway play.
Gary stifled a laugh, though he could sympathize. "Yeah, well, the single-life isn't so bad. You wouldn't want to be tied-down anyway."
"Tied-down, smied-flown. It's the principal Oakie. Agghh!" She shook her head as though trying to dry-out her already dry hair. "You snobs never get it, do ya? Did you know that I had to come to this wedding with Brock as my date? Ugg! And now even HE'S found someone to dance with! Brock is having better luck than I am!"
Gary chuckled. "Don't be too jealous, that girl Brock's dancing with is my date."
Misty stared at him for a moment as though trying to assess whether or not he was telling the truth. Then, all of a sudden, she burst into a roar of hilarity which snagged irritated glances from several nearby couples. "By Articuno!" Misty squealed through her laughter. "You lost your date to Brock! You, one of the 'hottest bachelors in Kanto', hahaha! And I thought I was pathetic."
Gary shrugged nonchalantly. "If I wanted, I could have any girl in this room. You on the other hand were desperate enough to come with Brock."
The next thing Gary knew he was on the ground!
Despite intoxication Misty was coordinated enough to SHOVE him off the bar stool. Gary stood, rubbing his tender backside as a handful of people gasped. Gary shooed them away and climbed back upon his seat. He stared blankly at Misty, his brain struggling to rationalize what had just happened.
"Um, why did you push me?" Gary thought it was a perfectly appropriate question, but Misty stuck out her tongue.
"Oh, just go away! I mean it, Oak— Oakie!" She buried her head in her hands again.
"Just Oak. No ie-sound."
"Okay Oakie!" And . . . she burst-out laughing.
All rationale in Gary's brain ordered him to just WALK AWAY! But, a part of him empathized, and even related to how Misty was feeling. Knowing that Brock had abandoned Misty to indulge in Anita's company and that she was now drunk . . . well, Gary just did not feel comfortable leaving her alone to drown herself in Chocolate Martini's all night. That and her zesty-temper intrigued him. Misty had actually shoved him! She had actually asked HIM to 'go away'. No girl, sober or drunk, had ever said those words to Gary before, let alone physically assaulted him! Maybe he was a masochist, but getting to know this spicy-beauty might be well-worth the heartburn.
Gary leaned into Misty's ear: "Girl, you are totally drunk-off-your-ass."
Misty shot him a side-ways glare, but did not shove him again. "I am not." Was her intelligent reply. She continued: "How rude! D-did you, like, come over here to make fun of me, Oakie?" And now did she raise her fist, threatening to strike him square in the jaw! What a violent, impulsive, intoxicatingly sexy drunk!
Gary easily caught her fist in his own. His backside was already going to be bruised for a week from her first unprovoked assault, he didn't need a matching welt on his face. His hand on hers seemed to calm her, or at the very least startle her so that she relaxed. "You have soft hands for a guy." She murmured, averting his stare.
Just as Gary opened his mouth to thank her for the random peculiar-yet-flattering compliment, her expression turned suddenly . . . nauseous. Oh great.
Misty looked-up sheepishly. "I don't, um, feel so good, Oakie."
"No kidding." Gary sighed. This terribly drunk, terribly attractive, terribly strange girl needed to get out of this reception hall and to her hotel room —or at least a toilet— at once! Certainly his grandfather would accept 'babysitting a drunk chick' as a valid excuse to leave the reception early.
"Misty, do you have a room here? At this hotel?"
She nodded, jade eyes wide with queasiness. "I'm staying here. Not that it's any of YOUR nosey-rosey business."
He ignored the second sentence. "What room number?"
Misty stared at Gary as though he'd sprouted a second head, Doduo-style. He re-phrased his question: "You got a key-card hidden in that dress of yours?"
The drunken girl raised her arm, displaying a small wristlet. Gary took it upon himself to open it and fish out her hotel room key-card. It read room 231, one flight up.
Gary spoke clearly and slowly so that she would understand: "Misty, you've had enough to drink for one night. I'm going to take you up to your room so that you can go to bed. How does that sound?"
"Okay Oakie!" She laughed hard, again. Gary wasn't aware that he had told a joke . . .
Gary hoisted Misty to her feet and her limbs flailed all over the place. She wiggled and jiggled as though her bones were filled with jello-shots. Gary struggled to retain his grip on her body. After a several moments of verbally coaching her to just 'BE STILL', he was finally able to fasten his grip around her waist and steady her.
"Can you walk at all or should I carry you?"
Misty shrugged, which Gary did NOT find reassuring. He decided to keep his hands on her waist and support her as they walked toward the elevator.
Naturally a good dozen or so people glanced at Gary and Misty curiously, including his ex-girlfriend. Anita's expression was nothing short of disapproving. It seemed that everyone had the wrong idea about Gary's intentions, but he was not going to waste time defending himself. As lovely and delectable as Misty was, he was not some kind of pervert. He would never try to take advantage of her in such a drunken state.
Once inside the elevator Misty plopped down on the floor and shook her red-head woozily. She seemed confused about her poor coordination.
Gary had to ask: "Hey, Misty, have you ever been drunk before?"
She blinked up at him, a tangle of alarm and wonder in her eyes: "Nope."
"Terrific." He groaned.
Gary would have taken a girl as beautiful as Misty on an all-expense paid venture around the world any day… but this — her first drunken experience — was not something he wanted to be the tour guide for.
"It's going to be a long night."
Misty crawled across the elevator and tugged on his pant leg. "You know," she grinned with a surprising amount of charm for an inebriated girl, "you're really handsome . . . for a pathetic snob."
"And you're really pretty . . . for a violent drunk."
"At least Brock didn't steal my date."
On second thought, where was his adventuring spirit?