This is a TFCentral forum exclusive, mainly because I only do stories in fits of boredom, and take little pride in my writing abilities, so this has only a little more value than an everyday post.
If you are still around, PKHB trainer Jim, I hope you like this story; it was made in a similar vein as your favorite stories: pokemorphs, hybrids, and tfs typically aren't my thing, but I was in a weird mood, and dreamt up this whole story while running around town.
Another thing. This story is just as much about living the life of a pokemon/trainer, as it is transforming. If the tf is the only thing you are interested in, please skip to it; I won't mind, Ill even add a *!* Icon to the beginning of it, so you can use a find text option to locate it. otherwise, this story could get long winded.
As a minor note, My own escapades in pokemon sapphire are a primary source of material for this tale.
Enough talk! Story now!
"What in the world do people see in these things?" Jerry murmured to himself, watching with mild interest as a middle aged trainer groomed and fussed over a skanky looking poochyena near the registation booth, obviously in a vein attempt to convince the administrator to let him and his pokemon enter. It was commonly said that "anyone" was allowed to enter the Vendanturf pokemon contest, and that almost all known pokemon were allowed, including poochyena, but exeptions have been made before; jerry would know, he's seen dozens of these things.
Exceptions have been noted though. in this case, a hobo and his furry companion came in, looking for a little entertainment, obviously between asking for handouts in towns and traveling the expanse of the Houen region. His clothing and a scuffed pokeball appeared to be his only posessions. Jerry wondered how the homeless man had ran across this pokemon and managed to capture it, as well as wondering if the creature even had any special moves beyond those that he was born with: they both looked like total losers.
After a while of argueing with the unusually patient secretary, the hobo finally gave up, and squeezed the mechanism on his ball, sending the crimson red beam to the poochyena. The poor creature had lowered his frame, tail under his legs, as his body was broken down into a crimson sillouette, before being pulled into the ball. Jerry didn't think the hobo was cruel to his pokemon, but he noticed the pokemon's sillouette flickered wildly, and looked a bit distorted before being drawn into the ball. From jerry's limited knowledge, the pokeball's lens (the button) must have been damaged, and thus, it was hurting the pokemon to be sealed in the ball.
Jerry thought this was an odd situation, but understandable to a degree. some areas in Hoenn required your pokemon to be in a ball, so traveling without one would be a major inconvienence. The odd thing was, that when pokemon were healed in a pokemon center, the ball's batteries were recharged, and even repaired in emergency situations where buying a new ball was impossible, such as in cases of poverty, or when unusually powerful balls are needed to keep the pokemon contained, like in a master ball. Why didn't this man just take his pokemon to a center? "A charity organization like that would surely jump at a chance to help this poor sap... oh, and maybe his owner, too." Jerry chuckled to himself. "Ah well, it wasn't any business of mine anyway. Just another fool to gawk at in an attempt to alleviate the insane boredom from living in a backwater town like this." Jerry sighed.
Glancing over to the pokeblock blending machines, Jerry saw that the other reason why he frequented the contest house had arrived, or rather, left. The woman, Edith, a regular in the contest, had just finished filling her Block case and had begun to walk away. Seeing Jerry stand up and walk over to the machine, she offered him a cold glance, before turning sharply and walking away; she knew what this oddball was after. Jerry just returned her glare, shrugged, then snapped his own case into the vacant slot on the machine that she left behind.
The machine was occupied by three others. The only regular individual on the machine was an old man the contest house had hired to offer blending assistance to individuals who didn't have anyone else to help with the blending (think of him like the wal-mart greeters in our world). The others were two teenagers. the first being a black-haired individual with a goofy hat, and a pikachu sitting is his lap, apparently interested in the machine, and obviously its contents. The other was a red haired girl, whom oddly enough kept said hair in a short ponytail, set at a crooked angle on her head; maybe she didn't have much experience with hair tying. The two sounded experienced, and even knew each other, which was good for them and jerry alike. Part of the pokemon contests was making good food for your pokemon, and these machines were built to encourage friendly relations by requiring the cooperation of others: they could have easily been automatic, but that wouldn't reflect the skill of the trainer. Jerry didn't care about any of this. He just knew that experienced trainers, and lots of them, meant good pokemon food.
After setting up the machine and giving everyone a cordial hello, the machine was started and the lid on the top removed. The two trainers went first, the boy adding a cheri berry to the mixing device in the middle, and the girl follwing with a grepa berry. Jerry went next, putting a pecha berry into the mix. Smiling, the kind old man reached into the bag the contest house had given him and pulled out a pinap berry. "I got a skitty at home that loves these things" The man told the others. everyone but jerry smiled, but even he grinned a little at the statement. dropping the berry into the vat, the lid was replaced and bolted into place. an arrow shaped lamp lit up on one end of lid, confirming the final activation of the machine. The arrow realigned itself with jerry, and he started the process by hitting the red button near him. the cylender in the center began spinning at a faster and faster rate, with each individual attempting to press their own button on their side when the arrow aligned with their side of the machine. after about a minute, the machine slowed to a halt, and Jerry heard a light "tak" sound, as his container was filled with a single pink block. "well done, everyone!" an odd voice chirped up from the corner of the room. Another old individual was standing there, his hands clasped, a smile of contentment on his face. "oh great" Jerry thought "another geezer. I need to find a place with a few less old folks around". "So, now, it seems you have mastered the use of the berry blender, but you all have such common berries!" The man continued. " what you need is some rare berries!", and with that, the old man reached into his jacket, and pulled out a satchel. "wait a minute, I've heard about this guy" Jerry thought, as the man handed unique odd shaped berries to each individual, with the exception of the old man; instead, he offered him about ten pinap berries, as a treat for the old man's skitty. "yessir, they call me the berry master" the old man chirped again, "I've been studying the uses and types of berries on pokemon and human alike for a long time now."
"So what do we do for you in return?" Jerry said in a condecending tone. "Me?" the man responded "why, nothing really, although it would be nice if you could tell me how your pokemon felt after you offered this to them, or.... how you felt." As the man said this his gaze shifted to Jerry, his kind demeanor changing to an unknown emotion just for a split second, so brief that even Jerry wondered if he had imagined the look.