Chapter 3 - Part Three

Lyra is shocked to sobriety as warm water strikes her scalp; matting down her fiery red locks and prompting the water to cascade down her body in warm, steamy rivulets. She was only shocked by virtue of being lost in thought; the past couple of hours have been… Eventful.


She’d awoken in the same chair that started this whole hellish situation to begin with. She wasn’t bound; but there were wires stickered to her body. The first thing she’d noticed was Ariana taking notes in front of her. 


The second thing being that she was nearly nude. Only tatters remained of her undersized Rocket uniform - presumably torn for the sake of ease or simply being torn up when she was being dragged back to the test chamber. 


The anxiety and despair of her most recent loss led to her blacking out; but even when she’d awakened, she didn’t feel any more lucid. She registered grunts removing the wires. She caught a little bit of Ariana explaining that she’d been drafted into Team Rocket. She felt a horrid burning in her cheeks and a pervasive heat between her legs. Even what little she picked up on seemed too much for her to process; and when she was helped out of the chair by Ariana, she felt like her body was moving on auto-pilot. She was led down the halls - in a pattern she couldn’t recall, now that she thought about it - to the dormitories. The last thing she heard from Ariana was a simple jeer.


“You’re a mess.” she murmured. “Aesthetically speaking. Medically, you’re a perfectly healthy thirty-five year old woman.” The suggestion hadn’t provoked Lyra at the moment. “Why don’t you tidy up. A woman like you should take pride in her appearance.” Ariana left with a soft chime of “We’ll meet again, when you’re… Presentable.”


It took a moment or two for Lyra to will her legs into motion. She cut her way through the middle of the dorms; her surroundings bleeding into an indistinct blur as she made her way to the far end, where she saw a simple, knobless door. Pushing it aside, she found herself in the showers. The prospect of it being populated - or worse, it being the male grunts’ showers; were there any distinction - didn’t occur to her. 


She brushed aside a curtain as she stepped into one of the stalls, sliding it shut behind her. The few scraps of clothing left for her to remove fell off quickly; left behind in the corner of the shower carelessly. Lyra leaned close to the wall; resting one hand on the knob, and her head beneath the spigot. She closed her eyes, and...


Lyra is shocked to sobriety as warm water strikes her scalp; matting down her fiery red locks and prompting the water to cascade down her body in warm, steamy rivulets.


She can’t tell what it is that awakens her from her listless daze - the mere shock of the water, perhaps something about it shedding the last effects of Arbok’s Glare, or perhaps how the water flows down her body. Lyra had never quite paid attention to the… Sensations of bathing before; but the water running across her unfamiliar form evokes a subconscious phantom sensation - one of a slimmer, sleeker form. One that… 


Lyra’s throat tightens. One that she didn’t have anymore.


She opens her eyes, staring down at her pale hand on the nozzle; turned nearly all the way to hot. Her skin tone didn’t resemble one of an active young woman - a girl; even. Lyra’s free hand raised up; sliding through her inundated hair as she shakes her head. She didn’t even know how to refer to herself - to refer to how she was supposed to be. Young woman felt too stuffy, and girl felt too condescending; but how else could she refer to herself? Child? Kid? Brat? Lyra shook her head fiercely enough to send streams of water sloshing around the shower stall.


Her hair flew wildly over her shoulders, sticking to her pale skin. She didn’t have to look far to catch sight of it - in its new tone. She was, at first, relieved that her hair hadn’t grown… But she quickly discovered that she had, indeed, grown hair. A vibrant red thatch upon her crotch; strands loosely poking up to her navel; around the curvature of her flabby stomach. A brief inspection beneath each arm revealed a similar story - but as… Concerning as that was; it was merely garnish on an already-humiliating presentation. 


It wasn’t enough that she’d grown so rapidly - both up and… Out. Her hands lowered to her stomach - and with just a gentle touch she can feel the flesh give way and dimple in. Not even her skin felt familiar, anymore. The flesh was soft - but the texture rougher than she recalled. Not dry; especially not under the water - but… Wethered in a way she’d never felt. At least - not on herself. 


A soft sigh escapes her lips as her hands rise up further - past the slight fold developing laterally across her navel, and over to her breasts. She’d never really paid any particular attention to them; or other womens’, she thinks with a deepening blush, but… From what she feels, she might as well have an entirely different woman’s chest. Even if she was as young as she was supposed to be, the sheer size of them would cause them to develop a natural sag. Combined with her age, however, prompts them to droop downwards; her nipples - which she can feel are decidedly larger - angling themselves likewise. 


Her entire body… Hung differently now. Gravity held much more domain over her - as though having Ariana bearing down on her wasn’t enough. She always thought some adults looked like they had the weight of the world on them - maybe it was just a consequence of age? A harsh reality; as she expected Ariana to teach her. It wasn’t just the outside that felt different, either. Her feet still ached from running in those ill-fitting boots - her back as well; for a reason unfathomable to her. 


Lyra inhales deeply, then sighs; the sound coming out more ragged than she anticipated. At the very least; she figures she can afford to sound a little worn-down after what she’d been through today. Today… What time was it, actually? She’d begun her incursion in the morning; and it felt as though everything following her capture went by in a blur… But her lapse in consciousness complicated things. As deep underground as the Rocket HQ was, it was understandably hard gauge the passage of time. 


Suddenly, the door to the showers is shoved open; the soft grinding of the hydraulic hinge keeping it shut followed by a soft, lilting giggle. “Stop- hey, stop, I’m not even…” A woman’s voice coos. She couldn’t place it - but she figures it was one of the grunts. One of the younger ones, at that… 


Younger than her, she thought bitterly. 


“Wait ‘till I get my-” There’s a soft, wet sound. A kiss? “Ffffucking top off, dick.” Another smooch; and another chuckle - this one lower. More masculine.


“Hey, we don’t got much time before our shift starts. I gotta spend as much time with the twins as possible, before you’re back on… Trap duty.” 


There’s a momentary pause. “I don’t do the traps; I guard the generator.”


“Right, right, sure. Sure…” 


Lyra can hear a curtain brushed aside, and another shower start up. The sound of the rushing water is only surpassed by the occasional grunt - but Lyra has an active enough imagination to envision what sounds it’s concealing. Too active, in her eyes. 


She reaches for the knob again, allowing in the slightest bit more cool water. What- what kind of show was Rocket running here? Was that okay, for them to be…? Did the admins know? W-were they allowed in here? Why-... Why did she care so much? 


Her bushier brows furrow as she ran her hands through her slick hair, pushing it back into some semblance of neatness. She could already feel a little weak in the knees - she had to get out of here. As soon as she shuts off the water - as soon as she feels the difference in temperature set in - she comes to a sudden realization: she didn’t bring a towel. Poking her head out from the curtain, she mercifully locates a rack opposite the stall. She breathes a sigh of relief as she steps out; hoping the other grunts were… Busy…


“Hey, fancy meetin’ you here.”


Lyra freezes as her hand comes into contact with the towel. She looks toward the door, only to see the elevator guard stepping through it. She opens her mouth to speak - but the grunt interrupts her. 


“You wouldn’t believe tha runaround tha guy ya passed tha card to gave me. Took for-fuckin’-ever ta get it ta me. Said it was lost or somethin’.” she throws her arms up, before one settles onto her cap, pulling it off. She shakes out her pink hair, walking past Lyra to grab a towel. “Lost - I swear; if tha new guys put half as much effort inta their job as they did makin’ up bullshit, we’d have tha boss back by now.”


She pulls off her top unabashedly; and doesn’t seem to pay much mind to Lyra’s nudity. The aged trainer takes the opportunity to begin drying off, shyly looking away. 


“Oh; and let’s not even talk about my Koffing. I paid good money for that one, y’know?” As she removes her bra, Lyra steals a glance over at her. Despite her griping about the ‘new blood’ - she doesn’t fit what Lyra would expect of a veteran of the group. She’s… Though Lyra hates to admit it, the grunt is younger than her. Her skin is smooth; breasts shapely. For a moment, a thought crosses her mind - the grunt was the kind of woman she wanted to be.


Lyra looks away; and the grunt catches her. “Hey- first time in tha showers? Ain’t no shame in lookin’. Figured ya already knew, that, buck-ass naked.” she chuckles out. Lyra hardly registered the teasing; she was much too busy chiding herself. Maybe the grunt’s body was nice - but she… All of Team Rocket was despicable, she told herself. Why would she want to be a belligerent criminal like her? Maybe she had a nice body - nicer than her own, after her… Experiment; and maybe she had confidence, and experience, and…


Lyra finished drying her body, and turned to her hair, using the towel to hide her face. The grunt beside her just chuckles as she finishes disrobing. “Tch - well; get used ta tha attention. Big gal like you’s gonna draw some looks. Play your cards right, n’ maybe-” 


A soft moan rises over the sound of still-running water in the occupied stall. Lyra’s bare feet - still wet - slap on the tile as she exits into the dormitory. She was still in the middle of drying her hair, however - leaving her body bare to the audience of…


Nobody. Thankfully. 


And yet; alone as she was, she felt appropriately lost. Now given a chance to observe the dorms without the haze of ennui encompassing her, she realizes that there’s little guidance within it. There were a series of bunks stretching from one side of the room to the other; interrupted only by a space occupied by a wide, round table in the middle and joined by a locker on either side of the beds. Nothing was marked; none of the bunks, lockers, or even the stray Pokeballs that sat strewn around the room. Discarded, she wondered, or uncared for? She supposed it didn’t make a difference.


Lyra lowered the towel down to her chest, hoping to preserve her modesty from the front, at least. She could already feel her hair curling upward - being used to her pigtails, she hoped… And not trying to mimic another style. She moved over to one of the lockers and threw it open - inside, she found a few hanging uniforms for the ladies of the gang. She spared herself a moment or two looking at the sizes… With increasing difficulty. Lyra had to squint to read the small print on the inside of the uniforms; eventually satisfied with what she read as an ‘L’. 


After digging through the locker some more, she found some fitting underwear - and the support for her enlarged breasts was exactly what she needed. She gave a soft sigh of relief before continuing. Slipping on the dress was easy. As easily, she recalled, as the disguise she’d donned to infiltrate this damned place. It still hugged and highlighted the new curves of her body - especially that of her stomach - but it wasn’t uncomfortable; nor did it feel like it was about to burst at any moment. The gloves and boots followed suit; then the belt - which rested awkwardly and loosely under her bulging stomach. Lastly, the cap - which she was tentative to don. On one hand, it was familiar - hell, it was part of the uniform. On the other hand… She didn’t know if she needed it now. There was a mirror nearby; and there was a loose brush; bearing a couple strands of pinkish hair. She could try to style her hair - try and bring it back to what she was used to… But that would mean facing her reflection. 


Observing her body was hard enough. But, to see her face - how that had changed, if at all… She wasn’t sure if she was ready for it. Her hands tighten around the cap as she weighs her options…