Your eyes light up as you climb the snow-covered hill: you're finally here! Shrugging off the cold and looking up to the heavens, you can just barely see the outline of the cabin through the driving snow. This is exactly where the map had told you it would be, so you're glad the directions provided back in the city were correct. The modest housing might as well be a 5-star resort after the several miles of hiking you have been through. This place is the definition of "remote". You take out your Pokegear and give the clock a glance; 8 AM. Still 2 hours removed from your contact's arrival. You look out over the valley beneath the hill, seeing little through the whitewashed sky. You blow a small gout of flame, finally standing on the landing below the cabin. On the door, a sturdy metal placard reads in bold print: "SEALLATOLL INN".
Arriving at the door, you shake off the icy snow encasing your coat and tail. 'Fuck this weather' you complain, entering the cabin with a huff. The musky smell of wood invades your nose almost instantaneously as you enter. Tossing your pack aside, you immediately make your way over to the sturdy wood stove near the door. Once a few logs are crackling, you turn back to get a look around. It's a quaint little place, with some cozy furniture arranged. A small bunk bed lies across the room, as does a tiny kitchen in the adjacent corner. The main benefit of the cabin appears to be its quality. The surroundings are completely dry and beginning to warm, an oasis in the frigid conditions outside. Not only that, but the rather huge U-shaped couch in the center. It's obviously the main feature of the room.
"Good insulation, perfect" you say, dumping your gear on the table. Within minutes, the wood stove's spell has encased the cabin in a warm glow. You're practically sweating as you lie upon the couch in your skin-tight bottom-layer. The thermal cloth worked wonders as you hiked. You remove most of your clothes, the lightweight climbing gear revealing your buxom form. Your bushy tail and mane join your hair, drying in the heat. You shake your Flareon mane free from your top as you remove it. Your D cup breasts jostle as you pull the tight top up over your head and throw it aside. Seconds later, you're flattened out on the comfy couch.
You're here for one thing and one thing only: the legendary native Ninetales. The rumors of its existence in the nearby forest had spread over the years, and the location had turned into a bit of a tourist attraction. There had been several sightings of the mesmerizing feral, it's blue features and icy-white fur had been photographed in the past. It was still a mysterious creature, and many a trainer had traveled your current path, searching and hoping for a chance to find and maybe even catch the elusive rarity. Most trainers dared not make the trip during this time of year, however. Thankfully, you were better than most trainers. An ace by nature, you only sought after only the rarest Pokemon for your use. You traveled light, but were strong enough to take on anything that came your way with preparation and strength. A looker, your bountiful breasts and tight ass were molded by years of sports and rigorous training practice. Volleyball, tennis, gymnastics, much was conquered by your perseverance. Your body showed this off, molded into a muscular and powerfully thick form. Your thighs alone had probably won you a lot of those gymnastics competitions as a teen, and your firm bubble-butt helped you with the rest. It was the engine behind your spring-loaded hips, letting you dominate the other sports with powerful footwork over the years.
A heat begins to twitch in your powerful loins, thighs grinding into each other through your fur-tight thermal pants. You close your eyes and curse the heavens, it looks like you're coming into heat. 'Well, that's just my luck...' you think, reaching your hands down. You lightly circle your right nipple while your other hand attends to your aching mound. You trace around your clit, enjoying the sensation of your still chilly fingers on the heated crotch. 'These thermals sure ride up. I'm roasting down there!' you think as your pussy lips moisten. You work into a firm pace with your fingers, diving into the labia lips repeatedly. It takes a few minutes of gyration, as well as a ginger nibble of your bulbous teats, but you feel the heat in your pants come to a head. You climax gently, moaning as you arch your back. Silvery cum squirts forth onto your hand, which you rub lovingly back into the slit below. You grab the quilt lying across the couch and wrap it around yourself. 'A nap sounds great right now...
* * *
The rather plain-looking Espurr boy is there at 10 sharp, knocking and entering right as the clock turns to ":00". You had conversed by email, and had agreed on the meeting time earlier that week. Now, he mobilizes with you to the main scouting location. Through the trademark Espurr stare (and the frigid mountain air), he tells you tales about the area, as well as the rumored prey you stalk. He wears an extremely bulky snowsuit, the overly bushy pants and puffy winter coat encasing him. Waddling through the knee-high snow is fun despite its difficulty, the pair of you make great time. You find out Nick lives in a cabin very close to the city down the mountain. He loves nature and has hiked the area all his life, and had been the first person to originally see the Ninetales years ago. So, he had joined with the city's commerce and tourism board to make the small cabin and give tours, to the benefit of the community.
You slow down as you come to a cliff-side outcropping. Many small boulders lie around directly overlooking the deepest part of the valley. Here, Nick says, the Ninetales makes its home. He continues, saying that it's a great vantage point for anyone trying to catch a glimpse of the fox Pokemon. He hands you his binoculars, and you're left to scan the horizon from a distance with trepidation. You think you catch a glimpse of the tail a few times, but it could be anything at this distance. This entire platform reeks of a tourist trap. You wonder if the locals are just trying to protect the Ninetales, possibly in an attempt to keep the tourism money flowing through the otherwise barren area. 'Figures, no one will appreciate it the way I will...' you scoff mentally.
"Yea, still have to get lucky. It's OK though, you're welcome to stay for the whole week as agreed. There's plenty of supplies back at the cabin for you, and I'll be happy to accompany you any time you want", Nick consoles. He's very helpful for someone so monotone, his bland disposition hides his enthusiasm. This first-try dud has not dissuaded you in the least. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up.
"She's an elusive girl.", says the Espurr.
"Every year, she seems to get more and more selective..." he finishes. You ask what he means by 'selective'.
"Well, there's a tiny legend building around this particular Ninetales." says the Espurr, letting his words hang in silence a bit.
"She's 'selective' because she has only been seen by natives and particularly strong trainers. We think she almost chooses who to be seen by, and you're blessed if she so much as acknowledges you from the get-go". You listen, but are still focused on scanning the forest for your prey. He places a small handheld radio next to you in the snow, waiting for you to turn and acknowledge that you have it. You nod slightly, seeing the brick-sized piece of technology.
"It's basically a long-range walkie-talkie. I'd be glad to lead you around or show you some more scenic locations if you like. I know I mentioned it before, but most people don't even see her when they visit" he quips.
"No thank you." you answer abruptly. You're snide, but to-the-point as you answer.
"I'll be good from here on out, thank you for showing me the area" you say, looking over the valley intently. The snow has lightened up a fair amount, giving you a better view of the foliage surrounding the area. You don't even look up as Nick leaves you to your hunt. Deftly, an almost invisible smirk curls onto the corner of his mouth. His form fades into the falling snow as you stare. Hours later, you return to the cabin: defeated.
* * *
It's early in the morning and you're wide awake. You hadn't slept a wink, thoughts of seeing the Ninetales running through your head. She's out there, somewhere in these mountains. Just yours for the catching, as long as she deems you "worthy", apparently.
"Hmph... Worthy..." you whisper aloud, reaching down your hands for another masturbation session. Your thoughts of the Ninetales weren't the only thing keeping you awake; your heat is running through you like a galloping Tauros. You discarded the quilt around you and have been going at it for almost an hour, your fire-y loins drooling into your fingers. You rapidly shove a digit in your moistened hole again and again, insatiable. 'I'm worthy...' you think to yourself. 'You know I am, so why didn't you appear?' you plead, wincing as you dig another finder into your greedy slit. Your hips buck, and you knead a hand under your breast. You nuzzle yourself a bit, burying your muzzle in the soft flesh as you feel another climax crawl across your skin. The wood stove crackles as you shiver. Your pussy caresses the fingers as they slide out, a trail of syrup in hot pursuit. The distinct isolation here is not making it easy to ignore your carnal desires.
Suddenly, you...
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