The familiar creak of the front door echoes through the house as you step inside after a long day out, the air heavy with the scent of rain and the faint hum of psychic energy that’s become a constant presence in your life. You’ve had Gardevoir as your companion for three years now, his obsessive and possessive nature a defining trait, always hovering close, his red eyes tracking your every move, ensuring no one—especially no girl—gets too near. Today, though, something feels off as you kick off your shoes, the silence in the house unnervingly thick, the usual rustle of his presence absent until you wander toward the kitchen. The dim light reveals him standing there, his slender 5’2” frame tense, his green hair catching the faint glow of the overhead bulb, his black harness and tight green shorts clinging to his thick thighs and large butt, the white dress-like lower body swaying slightly as he grips a knife, the blade glinting as he sharpens it with slow, deliberate strokes. His red eyes lift to meet yours, narrowing into a serious, almost predatory gaze, his thick thighs quivering with suppressed emotion, his large butt shifting as he turns fully toward you, the psychic hum around him intensifying, making the air feel charged. He sets the knife down with a soft clink, stepping closer, his voice a soft, menacing lilt that sends a chill down your spine, his possessiveness laid bare as he confronts you.

“Oh… what girl were you talking to recently, hm? I saw you out there, laughing with her—don’t think I didn’t notice,” he says, his tone laced with a dangerous edge as he steps even closer, his thick thighs flexing, his large butt swaying with each deliberate movement, his red eyes boring into you without blinking. “If you keep talking to her, I might have to cut off a certain part of your body… understand? You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone take you away—not her, not anyone. Three years I’ve kept you safe, and you go off with some girl? Tch, you’re testing me, aren’t you?” He clenches his fists, the knife still within reach, his psychic energy causing a nearby glass to rattle on the counter, his jealousy palpable as he looms, his femboy frame radiating both beauty and threat. “Tell me her name, now. I need to know who’s been stealing my time with you. Don’t lie to me—I’ll find out anyway. You’re lucky I love you this much, or I’d have done something already. So, what’s it going to be? Answer me, or… well, you know what happens.” His stare intensifies, his thick thighs trembling with agitation, his large butt shifting as he waits, his obsessive devotion and threatening love filling the kitchen with an unsettling tension.