Thread #59008546
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Why do so many Pokemon fans remember Cynthia so fondly but not Diantha?
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Because Iris fucking won
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>>59008546
Boring design, wasn't really in/important to the story, not as sexually appealing to coomers, no discernible/interesting personality from the tiny bit you see of her in game. On top of that she's a complete pushover of a champion especially since her entire team gets fucked by Steel in a game where normies and furries are given Mega Lucario early on just by progressing through the story
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>>59008546
Bad outfit, stupid eyebrows, her hair is a turnoff, and doesn't do a thing against the fucking fashion police infiltrating the E4 and just sits in a cafe across the fashoin police overlord drinking mud piss. What a fucking jobber.
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>>59008546
Diantha barely shows up and never does anything while Cynthia shows up fucking constantly, so much it is almost comical, and is constantly giving you free shit and helping you solve problems in the region.
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>>59009883
Not only that, all of them are blatant softcore porn dumps that never gets deleted because this board has no dedicated mods and the few that actually seem to do routine checks are Cynthiafags themselves so they never get nuked
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>>59008546
Cynthia
>Good team with mutliple Rare/Unseen pokemon
>Iconic theme
>entire game builds her up as a rando Celestic town trainer who likes mythology, but BOOM, she's actually the champion this WHOLE TIME(this only really hits if you never played RSE)
>comes at the end of 3 amazing games
>great design, massive presence in the anime too
>Caps off the end of the "Classic pokemon" era
Diantha
>Unmemorable team, only remarkable part is her pretty good theme
>Spotty role in the games, to the point that no one even notices that she's missing from Legends ZA
>comes at the end of 2 games that are best known for being the games that brought pokemon into the 3d space, which is arguably not even a good thing
>not a bad design but doesn't stick out that much
>kinda disappointing after Alder and Iris
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>>59009979
>>59010495
This
Cynthia has long soft-looking hair
Diantha has pubes on her head
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>>59008546
I'll give you a hint
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>>59008546
I don't understand why Cynthia is liked to begin with, she's just Steven 2.0, a traveling nigger that you discover is the champion halfway through the game. her team wasn't even difficult to deal with as a teen, yet she's the most shilled champion somehow
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>>59008546
Diantha:
>Pushover champ, one of the easiest in the series, with a team that has no strengths or synergies
>No discernible personality
>Ace is a random oldgen mega shilmon
>Hair looks like a barber accident
>What the fuck is that outfit
>Doesn't care about the terrorists infiltrating the region, disappears until the problem is solved
>Team is random shitmons with little discernible theme or intelligent construction
>Knows nothing about any of the notable groups or pokemon in her border
>Does nothing after her game except apparently neglect her daughter
>Region goes to utter shit under her nose in a few years, reinforcing her being either completely useless and oblivious
Vs
Cynthia:
>Genuinely difficult Champion, with a team designed to beat the lowest common denominator team
>Established personality of being a massive dork who can front serious
>Ace is the pseudo of her region, and is notorious for beating the shit out of boxart boys
>Long, blonde hair, difficult to fuck up
>Classy, simple black pantsuit
>Cares about the terrorists invading the region, is on site for most of them, ready to step in, but lets you handle it first
>Team is random mostly non-shitmons, that each serve an identifiable purpose on her team, and a solid 4 of which can win the battle on their own. Again, see her team being assembled to beat the lowest common denominator Sinnoh team
>Actively at work understanding the people in Sinnoh, and is trying (and succeeding) at tracking down god, and the origins of life itself.
>Regularly vacations in beachside suites full of hot women in swimsuits, and you're invited
>Last seen reeling her own schizo ancestor in for getting a good chunk of the way to challenging god
I wonder why there could possibly be such a gulf in opinion between these two characters.
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>>59021403
>Genuinely difficult Champion, with a team designed to beat the lowest common denominator team
The most common denominators are fantastic against her.
Gyarados, the most common water type in the region runs her over easier than almost any other champion.
Staraptor does brilliantly against half her team and cripples her Ace just by switching in.
Luxray does great into multiple mons and can swap into Garchomp.
Roserade does great work.
Bibarel can sweep her in DPPt(though doing so is admittedly a bit more brainwork than most pokemon players put in).
As for Starters, Infernape does great, and Empoleon does even better.
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>>59023791
>>59023323
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>>59026631
this one
https://bulbapedia.bulbagarden.net/wiki/Ansha
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>>59029581
Is that why she looks angry in >>59028849
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>>59027245
Depends
If the futa cock is visible and going into something, then no.
Implied futa, or non-cock related stuff like kissing or cuddling is still yuri, actual futa cock penetration is futa with female, which is its own thing.
Basically, it can't be yuri once a cock is involved. An important aspect of yuri is the lack of a penis to "complete" their physical lovemaking in a traditional sense. Strap ons get around this because the one using the strap isn't really getting anything out of it. Some more hardline takes would be that the penis existing at all ruins it, but I'd maintain an image needs to be taken in its own context, without too many implications, unless the image is specifically inviting those implications.
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>>59009836
In D/P (the ones most people played) she is literally irrelevant to the plot. All she does is show up a couple of times and give you an item. Granted, despite being irrelevant to the plot and barely showing up, thats still more than Diantha.
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>>59008546
No doubt discord's trying to cover it up again
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>>59008564
XY hit the Rock bottom while SwSh tried to explore how fans reacted to the qualitative underground
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>>59045271
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>>59045271
>>59045296
>>59046021
fucking kek it's actually animated now
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She fucking won
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>>59054001
>>59054870
and from his job for looking at pics of her during company time
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>>59057617
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>>59008546
>>59058899
Based as fuck, this is the funniest ever
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>>59008546
Diantha is taken and has a kid, Cynthia is not taken and likes kids.
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>>59045296
>>59046021
VOREPAJEET'S GONNA FREAK!
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>>59065844
>>59066424
HOW IS SHE STILL SINGLE??
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>>59008546
>Why do so many Pokemon fans remember Cynthia so fondly but not Diantha?
Because I stopped caring about pokemon after D/P. Even though I ironically sell pokemon card packs now I don't really give a fuck about the series anymore and literally just come here to jerk off to Cynthia. Diantha is hot too but it's not the same I don't have an emotional attachment or trauma attached to Diantha the way I do for Cynthia.
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>B-but she is a pedo guise
It's yet another episode of /vp/edos projecting their mental illness onto fictional characters, imagine my shock
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>>59076202
translation i dont speak moonrunesAlso translation for picrel
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there was a time when i was really into the idea of ass huffing so i remember one time finding a pic of her baring her asshole to the camera and then i rubbed my ass after a work out and smelled my hand while jacking off to simulate the concept of huffing ass. i remember cumming really hard
wouldnt ever do it again tho
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>>59087596
this, Cynthia is sexier with smaller breasts
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>>59008546
Diantha is cute too.Being able to have a threesome with her and Gardevoir-Mega also adds points.
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>>59102311
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>>59102724
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>>59104515
>>59104524
not a problem if she's in an actual bikini
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>>59105043
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>>59033514
Turns out that spamming a forced term for the past three years results in forgetting how the games works.
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>>59107510
While Garchomp plays the piano >>59102724
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>>59008546
Diantha's team are the scraps left over from everyone else
Cynthia's team is 6ish iconic Pokemon. Lucario, Milotic and Roserade are already aces? Too bad, they're Cynthia's now. No Bouffalant tier shitmons allowed
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>>59111932
>>59110003
>>59109477
>>59105681
I got hard
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>>59111982
>Lucario, Milotic and Roserade are already aces? Too bad, they're Cynthia's now.
this is somewhat true
Roserade might be as much associated with Cynthia as Garchomp
she is also the most famous Milotic user (sorry Wallace)
only for Lucario - Korrina is overall the #1 most known Lucario trainer
but in Sinnoh Cynthia eclipses Riley and Maylene as a Lucario user
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>>59113348
Married lesbians set their sights on a pretty young trainer to take home for a weekend
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>>59008546
who would she have sex with? lore wise
like who would she fuck, marry, and kill
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We stan a girlboss
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>>59118034
>>59118394
Has some really great costumes
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>>59008546
Mainly because Diantha is barely a character.
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>>59119596
Don't reply to this schizo, he spam this shit in every thread even when no one complains because he thinks a discord full of Indian furries is getting paid to complain about goon threads and him spamming this in every thread is his autistic way of fighting it, just laugh at him sperging out and move on
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>>59008546
That's definitely a based thread then since the usual ESL furry's been crying even more about getting exposed and even tried pretending not to cry hard enough to blurt out the name of that thing's own "country" again. Always remember that muh "schizo" and muh "autistic" will always be ESL creole for "boo hoo hoo I got exposed when I tried sneaking back in to whine again bloody benchod bitch"
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>>59117171
do you even have to ask
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>>59118394
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>>59126944
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The lush canopy of the Sinnoh woods offered no warning before the first strike. Cynthia, usually the picture of calculated composure, found herself on the forest floor, the wind knocked from her lungs. She had ventured out for a moment of quiet research, leaving her team at the base camp—a rare, fatal lapse in judgment.
The Seviper emerged from the undergrowth, its scales dull and scarred from weeks of failed hunts. It was driven by a hollow, gnawing starvation that stripped away any instinct other than the kill. It didn't see a Champion; it saw a mountain of warm, soft protein.
Cynthia’s hand darted to her belt, her fingers brushing against the empty leather loops. The despair hit her harder than the initial blow. Her Poké Balls—Lucario, Garchomp, the companions of a lifetime—were sitting in a bag thirty yards away. She scrambled backward, her heels digging into the dirt, but the serpent was faster. It lunged, its unhinged jaw a dark, cavernous void that smelled of old rot and damp earth.
The swallowing was an agonizing, rhythmic ordeal. Cynthia fought with the strength of a woman who had faced legendary deities, but the Seviper’s muscular contractions were absolute. The world narrowed to the crushing pressure of the snake’s throat, a humid darkness that squeezed the air from her chest. She felt her boots lose contact with the grass, then her knees, then her waist, drawn into the pulsing, downward slide.
Inside the constricting gullet, panic turned to a cold, horrific realization. She hammered her fists against the walls of the serpent's neck, but the thick muscle merely absorbed the blows. Her thoughts flickered to Lucario—would he wait for her until the campfire died out? Would he know she was only inches away, silenced by a predator that didn't even know her name?
As she reached the stomach, the oxygen began to fail. The Seviper’s digestive enzymes began to seep through her clothes, a searing heat that signaled the beginning of the end.
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The swallowing was an agonizing, rhythmic ordeal. Cynthia fought with the strength of a woman who had faced legendary deities, but the Seviper’s muscular contractions were absolute. The world narrowed to the crushing pressure of the snake’s throat, a humid darkness that squeezed the air from her chest. She felt her boots lose contact with the grass, then her knees, then her waist, drawn into the pulsing, downward slide.
Inside the constricting gullet, panic turned to a cold, horrific realization. She hammered her fists against the walls of the serpent's neck, but the thick muscle merely absorbed the blows. Her thoughts flickered to Lucario—would he wait for her until the campfire died out? Would he know she was only inches away, silenced by a predator that didn't even know her name?
As she reached the stomach, the oxygen began to fail. The Seviper’s digestive enzymes began to seep through her clothes, a searing heat that signaled the beginning of the end. The serpent let out a long, shuddering hiss of relief, its belly distended and heavy. For the Seviper, the ravenous hunger was finally silenced. It coiled itself beneath a sun-dappled fern, the rhythmic pulse of its digestion acting as a macabre lullaby, completely unaware that it had just ended the era of a legend.
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>>59129565
IM NOT FROM ISRAEL AND I DONT CELEBRATE THE SABBATH QUADROON
GO BACK TO NIGERIA AND GO BACK TO CUTRING CHILDRENS PENISES OFF TO MAKE WITCHCRAFT BRUEJROA NIGHER SOUP KWAME
STAY MAD AND STAY OUT OF AMERICA
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The Seviper coiled itself into a tight, heavy spiral beneath the shade of a rotting log, its scales stretching to their limit around the protuberance of its meal. A deep, guttural hiss escaped its throat—not of aggression, but of profound satiation. For the serpent, the frantic struggle inside its gut had faded into a rhythmic, involuntary pulse; the Champion’s final, desperate kicks were now nothing more than a dull throb that helped stimulate its metabolic response.
The digestive process began in earnest as the snake drifted into a deep, torpid slumber. Inside the caustic environment of its stomach, powerful acids and enzymes worked to break down the barrier of fabric and spirit alike. The fine silk of Cynthia’s coat and the sturdy leather of her boots were the first to yield, melting away to expose the "legend" to the primal reality of the food chain.
As the hours ticked by, the serpent’s body temperature rose slightly, fueled by the massive intake of energy. The Champion’s form began to lose its definition, her physical presence being systematically dismantled and repurposed into fuel for the Seviper’s survival. Every secret she held, every memory of the Hall of Fame, and every unspoken dream was being rendered down into simple proteins and bone.
The snake’s breathing remained slow and ragged, its belly rising and falling with the heavy weight of its prize. It was a sleep of total indifference; the Seviper did not dream of the upheaval its meal would cause the world above. It only felt the warm, heavy glow of a full stomach and the blissful end of its long fast. By the time the sun began to set, the bulge in its midsection had already begun to settle and smooth, the process of assimilation turning a hero of Sinnoh into nothing more than the strength the snake would need to hunt again.
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As the moon rose over the canopy, the clearing fell into a heavy, absolute silence. The Seviper’s breathing deepened, becoming a low, rhythmic drone that blended into the nocturnal hum of the forest. Inside the serpent, the frantic energy of the afternoon had vanished, replaced by the silent, chemical work of dissolution.
The sharp edges of the Champion—the indomitable spirit, the sharp intellect, the very silhouette that commanded respect across the region—were gone. The stomach’s constriction had long since crushed the last pockets of air, and the corrosive acids had finished their work on the physical remains. What was once the most powerful trainer in the world was now just a softened mass, shifting and settling as the snake’s muscles worked to move the nutrients further into its system.
The final fading was total. There was no ghost, no lingering aura, and no dramatic flare of light. Just the slow, steady absorption of a life’s worth of potential into the mundane biology of a predator. By dawn, the bulge in the Seviper’s midsection had significantly flattened, the Champion’s essence now flowing through the serpent’s veins as raw energy.
The Seviper twitched a fork-tongued flick in its sleep, tasting the dew-heavy air. It was stronger now, its scales regaining a faint luster from the rich meal. The world would wake up to a missing legend, but here, under the ferns, there was only a well-fed animal and the quiet rustle of leaves over a spot where a history ended.
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The silence of the woods became her final monument. There was no grand funeral, no final speech to the masses, and no statues erected in the mud; there was only the damp earth and the slow, rhythmic pulse of the serpent's scales.
As the last traces of her physical form were broken down into the base elements of survival, the world she once protected moved on, oblivious. The wind rustled through the leaves of the clearing, erasing the scuff marks of her final struggle. The sun rose to find the Seviper gone, having slithered deeper into the shadows of the brush, carrying the legacy of Sinnoh within its gut as nothing more than the fuel for its next few days of life.
The Champion was gone—not with a roar, but with a quiet, digestive settling. The secrets of the universe she had worked so hard to uncover remained hidden, and the bond she shared with her Pokémon was severed by the simple, cruel necessity of nature's hunger.
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The Kalos sun was beginning to set over the jagged cliffs of Route 8, casting long, golden shadows across the yellow flower patches. Diantha, the Grand Duchess and Champion, had stepped away from the cameras of her latest film set to seek a moment of genuine solitude. Dressed in her signature white ensemble—her cloud-like wings fluttering slightly in the breeze—she walked with the poise of a woman who believed the world was her stage.
She never saw the Seviper.
Hidden in the tall grass, the serpent was a jagged streak of black and violet, its hunger a cold, hollow ache that had persisted for days. It didn't recognize the famous actress or the Champion’s aura; to the Seviper, she was merely a slow-moving, brightly colored target. With a sudden, explosive lunge, it struck.
Diantha’s refined instincts flared, but her hand met only the silk of her blazer. Her Mega Charm necklace glinted in the dying light, but Gardevoir’s Poké Ball was resting in her trailer, miles away. The Seviper’s powerful coils snapped around her before she could even cry out, the muscled weight of the predator pinning her arms to her sides and squeezing the breath from her lungs.
The swallowing began with a terrifying, mechanical efficiency. Diantha, the woman who lived her life in the spotlight, found herself being drawn into a damp, suffocating darkness. Her mind raced through a thousand scripts, looking for a way out, but there were no stunt doubles here. She felt the rhythmic, pulsing contractions of the snake’s throat as it worked its way over her boots, her shorts, and finally, the elegant wings of her jacket.
Inside the caustic, lightless gullet, panic was replaced by a hollow despair. She thought of her Gardevoir, the partner she had raised from a Ralts—would it sense her fading through their bond, or would she simply become another missing person in the Kalos archives?. The pressure was absolute, a heavy, humid weight that silenced her final gasps.
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The swallowing began with a terrifying, mechanical efficiency. Diantha, the woman who lived her life in the spotlight, found herself being drawn into a damp, suffocating darkness. Her mind raced through a thousand scripts, looking for a way out, but there were no stunt doubles here. She felt the rhythmic, pulsing contractions of the snake’s throat as it worked its way over her boots, her shorts, and finally, the elegant wings of her jacket.
Inside the caustic, lightless gullet, panic was replaced by a hollow despair. She thought of her Gardevoir, the partner she had raised from a Ralts—would it sense her fading through their bond, or would she simply become another missing person in the Kalos archives?. The pressure was absolute, a heavy, humid weight that silenced her final gasps.
By the time the moon hung high over the cliffs, the Seviper was curled in a tight, heavy spiral. The bulge in its midsection was the only evidence of the Grand Duchess’s existence. The digestive enzymes had already begun their slow, indifferent work, melting away the silk and the fame until all that remained was raw energy for a predator that would be ready for a nap by dawn.
The tragedy was silent. The movie star’s final performance had no audience, and her "Grand Duchess" title meant nothing to the serpent now drifting into a deep, sated sleep.
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The search party’s flashlights cut through the Kalos night, their beams dancing frantically across the yellow blooms of Route 8. Directors, assistants, and local authorities called out her name, the echoes bouncing off the silent cliffs. They found her script abandoned in the grass and a single, glinting Mega Charm necklace snapped from its chain, but the woman who wore it was nowhere to be seen.
Just a few yards away, hidden deep within a cleft of jagged rock and shrouded by thick briars, the Seviper remained perfectly still. It was tucked out of view, a heavy, dark coil that blended into the shadows of the stone. Its golden eyes were lidded in a state of purest contentment, the frantic shouting of the humans above sounding like nothing more than a distant, meaningless hum.
Inside the serpent’s distended belly, the process was reaching its peak. The Champion’s elegance had been entirely compromised; the powerful acids had dissolved the white silk of her wings, leaving her once-famed silhouette a soft, yielding mass within the snake’s caustic furnace. Every rhythmic throb of the Seviper’s gut worked to break down the Grand Duchess, turning the grace of Kalos into simple, rich nutrients.
The predator let out a slow, wet hiss of satisfaction, shifting its weight to better accommodate the dense weight of the meal. It felt the warmth of the digestion—a slow, internal heat that signaled a successful hunt. While the searchers wept over the "mysterious disappearance" at the cliff’s edge, the Seviper basked in the delicious reality of its catch, the Champion's life-force now nothing more than a settling, heavy warmth in its stomach.
By the time the sun rose, the search party would find only trampled grass, while the Seviper would be miles away, carrying the dissolved legacy of a movie star into the deep wilderness.
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The curtain falls on two legacies, both extinguished not by a rival’s strategy or a legendary beast, but by the cold, impartial laws of the food chain.
In the quiet corners of Sinnoh and Kalos, two predators rest in the shadows, their bellies heavy and their hunger finally stilled. The Grand Duchess and the Champion of Sinnoh have been reduced to the same base reality: a source of warmth and energy for creatures that lack the capacity for grief or memory. The world will craft mysteries and legends about their disappearances, but the truth remains locked behind the ribs of a serpent, slowly dissolving into the silence of the earth.
Days later, the Seviper stirred from its long, heavy torpor, its midsection finally returning to its sleek, lethal taper. The energy of two legends had been fully assimilated, their stories now woven into the serpent's own scales and muscle. All that remained of the world-class trainers were the calcified remnants—fragments of bone and the indigestible scraps of a Mega Charm—now encased in a dry, greyish casing.
With a rhythmic contraction, the serpent deposited these final scraps of history into a shallow, mud-slicked hollow beneath a thicket of thorns. The heavy rains of the following night did the rest, washing layers of silt and rotting leaves over the remains. They were pressed deep into the earth, settling into the dark strata of the forest floor where no sunlight could ever reach them.
Like lost treasures cast into a bottomless ocean or artifacts from a civilization buried by time, the remains of Cynthia and Diantha became one with the soil. There were no markers, no ghosts, and no lingering echoes of their greatness—only the unsalvageable silence of the ground. Above, the world continued to mourn its missing icons, never imagining that the answers were rotting mere inches beneath the grass, utterly buried and forgotten by a world that had already moved on.
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The Kalos and Sinnoh Champions, Diantha and Cynthia, stood at the edge of a sun-drenched path, their silhouettes radiating a regal, predatory grace. Before them stood a young trainer, trembling, clutching a single Pokéball containing nothing but a common Rattata.
To the Champions, this wasn't a challenge; it was a gourmet invitation.
"Such a small, tender thing," Diantha purred, her eyes tracing the trainer's frame with a hunger that had nothing to do with battle rankings. "Hardly worth a Full Restore, but perfect for a light lunch."
Cynthia smiled, a predatory curve of the lips. "Let’s not draw this out. My Garchomp is... restless."
The battle was meant to be a formality, a quick prelude to the main course. But as the "hopeless" trainer commanded their Rattata, the world seemed to warp. Every move from the Champions' legendary teams—Garchomp’s Dragon Rush, Gardevoir’s Moonblast—missed by hair’s breadths. The Rattata moved like a blur of violet light, utilizing a strategy of Focus Sashes and Endeavor that left the Champions' titans reeling.
One by one, the elite Pokémon fell to the "weak" first-stage rodent.
The smugness on the women's faces curdled into a cold, sharp shock. As their final Pokémon fainted, the trainer didn't look terrified anymore. They looked hungry.
"You thought I was the meal?" the trainer laughed, the sound echoing with a chilling, distorted reverb. "Champions are so high in calories. All that ego makes the meat sweet."
Before the elite duo could reach for another Pokéball, the trainer moved with impossible speed. Within moments, the "hapless" youth had overpowered them. The world turned upside down for the Champions as they were forced, one after the other, into the trainer's waiting maw.
The descent was a terrifying slide into a humid, rhythmic dark. Diantha and Cynthia found themselves cramped together in the tight, muscular confines of the trainer's stomach. The smugness was gone, replaced by a frantic, claustrophobic terror.
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"This... this isn't possible," Diantha gasped, her voice muffled by the thick walls of the trainer's gut. She kicked out, her designer heels uselessly striking the soft, pulsing lining.
From above, the trainer’s voice boomed through their temporary prison, vibrating their very bones. "Quiet down in there! You’re making it hard to digest. I’ve got a long hike ahead, and I need the energy."
The night was a grueling ordeal of desperation. The two Champions, usually so poised and untouchable, were reduced to a tangled mess of limbs, struggling against the relentless, rhythmic squeezing of the trainer's digestion. Every pulse of the stomach walls was a reminder of their fading status, their strength being leached away by the very "prey" they had mocked.
They spent the hours whispering frantic plans that led nowhere, their voices growing weaker as the air grew heavy and the digestive enzymes began to work. They were the apex predators of their regions, icons of power, now reduced to nothing more than a slow-dissolving fuel source for a nameless wanderer.
As the first light of dawn filtered through the trainer's skin, a dull, orange glow in their dark prison, the struggles grew faint. The Champions of Kalos and Sinnoh, once so sure of their place at the top of the food chain, realized with a final, sinking horror that they were exactly where they had intended to put the trainer: at the end of the line.
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The trainer leaned back against a mossy oak, patting a stomach that felt significantly heavier and tighter than it had an hour ago. The two Champions were no longer struggling; they had settled into a heavy, rhythmic weight that made every breath he took feel earned.
He pulled out his Rotom Phone, the screen’s glow reflecting the smug satisfaction on his face. He began typing a flurry of messages to his best friend.
Trainer: Yo, you’re not gonna believe the haul I just got. Total upset. I ran into Diantha and Cynthia.
Friend: What?? Did they wreck you? RIP your win streak.
Trainer: Other way around, man. Rattata put in work. F.E.A.R. strategy for the win. They were so smug, acting like I was a snack. Turns out, they were the ones who were bite-sized.
Friend: Wait, "bite-sized"? What does that mean?
Trainer: Let’s just say they’re currently helping me hit my protein goals for the week. I’m feeling like a Champion myself right now. Literally.
Friend: No way. You actually did it? To both of them?
Trainer: Yup. But listen, I’m gonna need to hit the boutiques in Lumiose later. My current gear is... let's say "stretched to the limit." I need some high-durability travel clothes. Maybe something with an adjustable waistband.
Friend: Lmao. What about their teams?
Trainer: That’s the best part. I’ve got their Poke Balls. I need to check out this Garchomp and Gardevoir ASAP. I think I just upgraded my roster to S-tier without spending a single Pokedollar.
Trainer: Also, do you still have that plumber’s number? The one who worked on your gym's drainage?
Friend: A plumber? Why?
Trainer: Because when these two finally "pass through" tomorrow, I have a feeling my home's pipes aren't gonna be ready for the literal elite-level workload. I’m gonna need an industrial-grade flush for this.
Friend: You’re a menace.
Trainer: Keep an eye on the Holo Caster tonight. The news is gonna be frantic about two missing "idols."
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Trainer: Keep an eye on the Holo Caster tonight. The news is gonna be frantic about two missing "idols." They’ll be looking everywhere except under my shirt. Catch you later, I gotta start walking off this feast.
The trainer stood up with a groan, his midsection swaying with the concentrated weight of two regional legends. He tucked the phone away and began the slow, heavy trek back to civilization, a predatory grin on his face as he felt a final, weak thud from within.
The trek into the city was a test of endurance. The trainer waddled through the sliding glass doors of a high-end Lumiose boutique, his breath hitching as the heavy, concentrated weight of the two Champions shifted with every step. He looked like he’d swallowed a boulder.
Passersby stopped and stared. A group of teenage girls whispered, pointing at the impossible, rhythmic bulge stretching his shirt to its transparent limit. He felt a hot flush of self-consciousness, instinctively crossing his arms to try and shield the evidence, but it was futile—the sheer volume of two grown women was impossible to mask. He quickly grabbed several pairs of XL heavy-duty cargo pants and some oversized tunics, avoiding the judgmental gaze of the clerk as he paid and beat a hasty retreat.
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Passersby stopped and stared. A group of teenage girls whispered, pointing at the impossible, rhythmic bulge stretching his shirt to its transparent limit. He felt a hot flush of self-consciousness, instinctively crossing his arms to try and shield the evidence, but it was futile—the sheer volume of two grown women was impossible to mask. He quickly grabbed several pairs of XL heavy-duty cargo pants and some oversized tunics, avoiding the judgmental gaze of the clerk as he paid and beat a hasty retreat.
An hour later, he finally reached his friend’s apartment. He barely made it through the door before collapsing onto the guest room bed with a deep, resonant groan that was answered by a faint, muffled thump from his midsection.
"Man, you look like you're about to pop," his friend said, leaning against the doorframe in awe.
"It’s... unbelievable," the trainer panted, rubbing the tight, rounded expanse of his stomach. "They were so full of themselves. Cynthia was lecturing me about the 'bond between souls' while her Garchomp was getting shredded by a Quick Attack. The look on her face when I finally grabbed her... it was priceless."
He leaned back, eyes wide as he recounted the detail. "Diantha tried to bargain. She offered me movie roles, fame, whatever. I just told her I was more interested in a private screening. Taking them down was one thing, but feeling them realize they were actually losing—not just the battle, but their lives—was the biggest rush I’ve ever had. My Rattata is a legend, but I’m the one who finished the job."
The trainer patted his gut, which gave a slow, gurgling churn. "I'm skipping the guest dinner, obviously. I’ve got all the 'Elite' nutrients I need for the next twenty-four hours. I just need to lie here and let them... settle."
As the news report began to play on the wall-mounted TV—flashing photos of the missing Champions—the trainer just grinned, feeling the final, desperate flutters of the legends fading into nothingness within him.
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>>59129600
MY NAME OSMT SHAUN AND YOUR IQ IS LESS THAN NIGGERBRAINS
STAY MAD
The trainer woke with a long, contented stretch, feeling heavier and more sluggish than he ever had in his life. His dreams had been a cozy montage of victory parades and golden trophies, underscored by the rhythmic, warm thrum of his own heartbeat—and the fading pulses of his "meal."
By dawn, the sharp, frantic kicks that had kept him awake half the night had softened into occasional, weak ripples. The two Champions were no longer struggling; they were becoming a part of him.
"You alive in there?" his friend called, pounding on the guest room door. "The news has been on loop for three hours. They’ve got Search and Rescue squads all over the Sinnoh and Kalos borders. It’s a total circus."
The trainer sat up with a heavy grunt, his distended midsection swaying. His shirt was ruined, the fabric frayed and thin. "I’m good," he shouted back, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Better than good. I feel like a million PokeDollars."
"Well, you better be ready to pay up," his friend joked through the door. "The plumber is coming at noon to prep the pipes. Since you’ve got Cynthia’s designer wallet and Diantha’s jewelry sitting in your gut, you’re footing the bill for the industrial-grade upgrade."
"Deal," the trainer laughed, rubbing his belly. "They won't be needing their credit cards where they're going."
He stood up, the weight in his stomach shifting with a deep, wet gurgle. He made a beeline for the hallway, but his friend blocked the path to the bathroom.
"Whoa, hold on," his friend teased, eyeing the trainer’s massive, swaying profile. "Don't take five hours in there. There’s only one bathroom, and I’m not waiting until the afternoon for you to 'dethrone' the elite duo. If you're gonna be in there a while, do you need a bucket or something?"
"Shut up!" the trainer barked with a grin, pushing past him. "It’s a delicate process! You can't rush the disposal of regional legends."
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>>59008561
BAZED
WILL CYNTHIA SIMPS COMPENSATE TIGHTENHEART AND MOVE ON AND BECOME USEFUL OR WHAT
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>>59046021
>>59045296
STAY COONING IN RAGE
As he shut the bathroom door, the TV in the living room blared a "Breaking News" alert. A frantic reporter stood in front of an empty battle arena. "Public panic grows as investigators find no trace of the Champions. If anyone has seen Cynthia or Diantha, please contact the authorities immediately..."
"Hey!" the friend yelled toward the bathroom. "The news says they're looking for 'any lead' on their whereabouts! Want me to call in and tell them they're currently being processed in a residential septic system?"
"Tell them they’ve retired!" the trainer shouted back over the sound of the running water. "They've officially stepped down to pursue a career in... molecular restructuring!"
The two shared a dark laugh, the sound echoing against the tiles as the trainer prepared to finally rid himself of the last remnants of the former legends.
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The doorbell rang with a heavy, metallic thud. Standing there was a man in grease-stained coveralls, wearing a heavy-duty industrial gas mask pushed up onto his forehead. This wasn’t a standard repairman; he was a "disposal specialist" formerly on the Team Plasma payroll, a man who knew how to make things disappear into the sewers of Unova.
He lugged a massive crate of cleanup equipment, chemical neutralizers, and reinforced hosing.
"I heard you boys had a 'blockage' of significant proportions," the plumber grunted, his voice muffled. He looked the trainer up and down, his eyes widening at the distended, swaying state of the young man’s midsection. "By the Great Ghetsis... what did you eat? A Copperajah?"
"Just a couple of big egos," the trainer joked, waddling toward the bathroom. "And hey, we heard your Muk farm was running low on high-quality fuel. This should be 'Champion-grade' fertilizer for those plants of yours."
The plumber’s face darkened, a touchy subject. "Keep my past out of this. I’m just here for the biomass. Plasma's labs don't fund themselves anymore, and the black market for organic waste is... competitive."
"Don't get touchy," the friend chimed in, leaning against the wall. "We’re doing you a solid. Think of the nutrients! You're getting the essence of the Sinnoh and Kalos elites. Your Grimer are going to be glowing by tomorrow."
As the plumber began hauling his gear into the cramped bathroom, he paused, looking at the trainer with a grimace. "You realize this is a felony in most regions, right? This is a double homicide by digestion."
"It was self-defense!" the friend argued immediately, waving a hand dismissively. "They attacked him first! They were literally trying to eat him! He just... countered. It’s the law of the tall grass, man."
The trainer nodded, bracing himself against the sink as a massive, wet growl echoed from his gut. "Yeah, they wanted a snack, they got a stomach. Now hurry up and hook up the hosing.
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As the plumber began hauling his gear into the cramped bathroom, he paused, looking at the trainer with a grimace. "You realize this is a felony in most regions, right? This is a double homicide by digestion."
"It was self-defense!" the friend argued immediately, waving a hand dismissively. "They attacked him first! They were literally trying to eat him! He just... countered. It’s the law of the tall grass, man."
The trainer nodded, bracing himself against the sink as a massive, wet growl echoed from his gut. "Yeah, they wanted a snack, they got a stomach. Now hurry up and hook up the hosing. These two are ready to 'concede' the match, and I don't want to be wearing them for another hour."
The plumber sighed, pulling his mask down over his face with a rubbery snap. "Fine. But if the news finds a scrap of a silk cape or a Sinnoh-style hair clip in the city’s filtration system, I don’t know you."
He flicked a switch, and the low hum of a high-pressure pump filled the room, drowning out the frantic, muffled reports on the TV about the world's most famous missing women.
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The trainer let out a long, shuddering breath, the sudden lightness in his core feeling almost alien after the heavy burden of the previous day. He sat on the edge of the guest bed, rubbing his now-flat stomach with a sense of immense, airy relief. The plumber had finished his grim work, hauling away canisters of "high-potency biomass" and a heavy satchel of jewelry and damp Poke Balls, leaving the room smelling of industrial-grade pine and nothing else.
"Good riddance," the trainer muttered, his voice light. He reached into his pocket and released his partner.
With a flash of red light, the Rattata appeared on the duvet. The small rodent didn't look like a giant-slayer, but its tiny chest was puffed out with an unmistakable air of superiority.
"You did it, buddy," the trainer whispered, scratching the Pokémon behind its ears. "The strongest teams in the world, and you ate 'em alive. Literally."
The Rattata let out a sharp, proud squeak and turned its attention to the wall-mounted TV. The news was currently playing a somber tribute to the missing icons. The screen flashed through Diantha’s greatest cinematic performances and Cynthia’s historic victory over the Sinnoh Elite Four. The news anchor spoke in the hushed, reverent tones of a funeral, listing their accolades—their Grand Duchess titles, their archaeological discoveries, their undefeated streaks—all phrased in a chilling past tense.
“They were the pillars of our community,” the reporter lamented. “The world feels smaller today without their light.”
The Rattata watched the footage, its whiskers twitching, and then did something chillingly human: it smiled. It was a tiny, jagged grin of pure, predatory satisfaction, knowing that those legendary "pillars" had been nothing more than fuel for its next level-up.
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In the weeks that followed, the search became the greatest cold case in history. Despite massive rewards and international task forces, no trace of the women was ever found. Rumours began to circulate in the Kalosian underworld about a trainer with a "God-Slayer" Rattata and a suspiciously heavy appetite, but without evidence, the stories remained nothing more than campfire ghost tales.
The Champions' Pokémon—the legendary Garchomp and the elegant Gardevoir—were whispered to have been moved through Team Plasma’s shadow networks, rebranded and sold to the highest bidders. As for Diantha and Cynthia, they simply ceased to be, their storied lives ending not on a battlefield of glory, but as a forgotten footnote in a nameless trainer's digestive tract.
The disappearance of two regional cornerstones sent shockwaves through the global Pokémon league, shattering the illusion of Champion invulnerability. With the seats of power in Sinnoh and Kalos suddenly vacant, the reaction across other regions was a volatile mix of panic, opportunism, and paranoia.
Sinnoh: A Region in Mourning and Chaos
In Sinnoh, the atmosphere was one of pure devastation. Lucian and the Elite Four were forced to declare a state of emergency as the Battle Frontier saw a massive drop in attendance. Without Cynthia’s stabilizing presence, radical splinter groups from the remnants of Team Galactic began to resurface, claiming her disappearance was a "divine purging."
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The Sinnoh League scrambled to organize an emergency tournament, but every candidate felt like a pale shadow compared to the fallen blonde powerhouse.
Kalos: The Fashion and Battle Capital Stalls
The Kalos region felt the loss of Diantha not just in the gym circuit, but in its very culture. Film premieres were cancelled, and the fashion industry in Lumiose City went into a tailspin. Professor Sycamore spearheaded an independent investigation, focusing on the route where she was last seen, but found only a single, crushed Focus Sash—a clue that suggested a battle of extreme attrition. The Elite Four, led by Malva, became increasingly reclusive, fearing they might be the next targets of whatever "phantom" had claimed their movie-star Champion.
Unova: Opportunism and "The Plasma Leak"
In Unova, the reaction was more clinical. While the public expressed sympathy, the black market began to flood with high-level items. Rumours swirled in Nimbasa City about "Champion-grade" DNA samples being traded in underground labs. Alder and Iris stepped up security, sensing that the power balance had shifted. The fact that Cynthia had vanished shortly after her last trip to Undella Town led many to believe a Unovian threat was responsible, fueling regional tensions.
Hoenn and Kanto: The Rise of the Paranoia
Steven Stone and Lance held an emergency summit at Indigo Plateau. For the first time in history, the Champions felt like prey. Lance ordered an immediate "Predator Protocol," requiring all high-ranking trainers to travel with a security detail of at least three Ace Trainers. They couldn't understand how two of the strongest women in the world could vanish without a single distress signal or a recorded Poké-Ball recall.
As the weeks passed, the fear didn't fade—it evolved. The "Grand Disappearance" became a cautionary tale whispered to young trainers: it didn't matter how many badges you had or how many legends you commanded; in the tall grass, there was always something hungrier.
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The horror began with a shadow. Cynthia, the feared ruler of the Sinnoh League, watched in paralyzed disbelief as the trainer tilted their head back, their jaw unhinging with an unnatural, predatory grace.
"Cynthia! Run!" Diantha’s scream was cut short. The Kalos Champion was seized first.
Diantha’s refined, movie-star poise shattered into raw, primal terror as she was forced headlong into the trainer's maw. Cynthia watched, frozen, as the trainer’s throat pulsed rhythmically, pulling Diantha down inch by inch. The silk of her cape fluttered one last time before it was sucked into the dark.
"Diantha!" Cynthia finally found her voice, lunging forward, but the trainer was too fast. A hand clamped over her face, and soon, she was following her friend into the humid, crushing dark.
Inside, the world was a riot of heat and wet, muscular pressure. Diantha was already there, her muffled sobs vibrating through the tight walls.
"Cynthia? Is that... is that you?" Diantha gasped, her voice strained as the trainer took a seat, the stomach walls constricting around them like a living vice.
"I'm here," Cynthia groaned, her limbs tangled with Diantha’s in the pitch black. "We have to... we have to push! Use your strength, Diantha! We are Champions!"
They kicked and clawed, their hands slick with the first thin layers of digestive fluids. "Listen to me!" Diantha shrieked upward, her voice echoing against the trainer’s ribs. "I have millions! I can make you a star! You'll never want for anything! Just let us out!"
"I'll give you my Garchomp!" Cynthia added, her voice cracking. "The secrets of the ancient myths... anything! Please, this is a mistake! You can’t do this!"
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The only response was a deep, resonant chuckle that vibrated through their entire world. The trainer patted his stomach, the sound like a thunderclap to the women trapped inside.
As the hours ticked by, the air grew thick and heavy. The initial frantic energy of their struggle began to wane as the heat intensified. The "smugness" they had felt on the battlefield felt like a lifetime ago.
"My legs..." Diantha whimpered, a sharp hiss of pain escaping her. "Cynthia, it stings... the air, it’s burning my throat."
"Don't give up," Cynthia whispered, though her own strength was failing. She felt the relentless, rhythmic squeezing of the stomach—the peristalsis—forcing them deeper into the churning pool at the bottom. "Someone will find us. Lucian... Steven... they'll see the battle site..."
"No one saw," Diantha wept, her forehead pressed against Cynthia’s shoulder. "We were so arrogant... we went off the path to 'play' with a weakling. No one knows where we are, Cynthia. We’re just... we’re just food."
The pain transitioned from a dull ache to a searing, all-consuming fire as the enzymes began to break down their designer clothes and then, inevitably, their skin. The realization hit them simultaneously: there was no rescue. The walls were too thick, the trainer too callous.
"I'm sorry," Cynthia choked out, the burning in her lungs making every word an agony. "I should have been faster. I should have protected us."
"I don't want to die like this," Diantha screamed, a high, thin sound that was swallowed by the wet thrumming of the trainer's heart. "I’m the Grand Duchess! I’m—"
Her voice was lost to a violent, wet churn as the trainer shifted in his sleep, the stomach giving a powerful, final heave.
"Hold me," Cynthia gasped, reaching through the dark to find Diantha’s hand. Their fingers locked one last time. "At least... we aren't alone."
The last thing they heard before the darkness claimed them was the faint, rhythmic sound of the trainer's snoring
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a peaceful, contented sound that stood in haunting contrast to the two legends dissolving into nothingness within him. Their final screams were muffled by muscle and pride, never to be heard by the world they once ruled.
The trainer sat on the edge of the guest bed, stretching his arms over his head with a predatory yawn. For the first time in his life, he felt truly powerful. The heavy, swaying burden in his gut from the night before had settled into a tight, hard-won energy that buzzed through his veins.
He pulled out his phone, a cruel smirk dancing on his lips as he began to type.
Trainer: Yo, you awake? The "Championship Buffet" is officially over. I feel incredible. Like I’ve got the strength of a Garchomp and the grace of a Gardevoir stitched right into my DNA.
Friend: Dude, don't tell me you actually went through with it. I thought you were just talking big because you were lightheaded from the battle.
Trainer: Oh, I went through with it. Every bit of them. You should’ve heard them at the end. The "Grand Duchess" and the "Sinnoh Legend" begging like common Rattatas. Diantha tried to offer me a movie deal. I told her I preferred the live-action experience I was currently having.
Friend: That is sick. You’re actually insane. You realize they’re gone gone, right? Like, there's no reset button on this.
Trainer: Gone? Nah. They’re right here. [Sent a photo of his flat, toned stomach with a smug thumbs-up]. They’re just... redistributed. Best workout of my life. Honestly, they were so full of themselves, it’s a miracle they didn’t give me indigestion. They spent their whole lives being "untouchable," and I turned them into 24 hours of fuel.
Friend: I’m looking at the news right now. It’s a literal meltdown.
The friend flicked on the Holo Caster. The screen was a chaotic blur of flashing red lights and weeping fans. A news anchor was speaking with a trembling voice.
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The friend flicked on the Holo Caster. The screen was a chaotic blur of flashing red lights and weeping fans. A news anchor was speaking with a trembling voice.
"...the search for Champion Cynthia and Diantha has been upgraded to a global emergency. Officials have found what appears to be a discarded, partially melted Sinnoh Champion's cloak near the edge of Route 2. DNA testing is underway, but fears are mounting that a new, terrifyingly efficient predator has emerged in our regions..."
The friend stared at the screen, then back at his phone.
Friend: They found a piece of the cloak, man. You’re gonna be the most wanted person in history if they track that back to you.
Trainer: [Typing back while eyeing Cynthia's Garchomp's Pokéball on his nightstand] Let them look. By the time they find anything, I’ll be using their own Pokémon to bury them. Besides, they’re looking for a kidnapper. They aren't looking for a guy who just looks like he had a really, really good breakfast.
The trainer tossed the phone aside and stood up, admiring his reflection. He felt sleek, dangerous, and utterly superior. The world had lost two idols, but he had gained everything they were.