Chapter 5 - Part Five

Water cascades down Lyra’s body as she stands beneath the showerhead; bracing one arm against the tile wall and closing her eyes. She focuses on the sensation of warm water - washing off the last remnants of soap and shampoo - running across her body. Along its broad curvature, down the surface of sagging flesh, into the least flattering of folds and dimples - each one fading in prevalence to the woman’s mind, as the comparison to her self-image grew fainter and fainter. Moreover, she focused on the warmth. Water pounded against her body, and the warmth soaked in, giving relief to the innumerable pangs that had plagued her all through the night. Her free hand reached up to rub at her eyes; bearing the slightest sign of bags beneath them, before falling limply down to her side again.


Yesterday had left Lyra… Tired. Tired in a way sleep didn’t fix - or wouldn’t have, had she gotten a restful slumber to begin with. 


The first half of her job left her aching and sweaty - and when she returned from her break, she hadn’t considered that it would be the high point of her job for the day. By the time she left the warehouse - soon to be replaced by another grunt - every step prompted flashes of pain along her legs, and she had to be careful about how she moved up and down; lest her back begin to ache. It was the kind of ache she’d heard much older women complain about - much older than even she was, right now. What little energy she had remaining was spent grabbing a meal from the break room and eating it on her way back to the dorms.


It was as she arrived that she became cognizant of how much of a mess she’d become. Her hair was messed up - what was covered by her hat was mussed up, and what wasn’t had become slick with her sweat; some sticking to the back of her neck. Even the color of her uniform wasn’t able to totally hide the dark patches of sweat that she’d accrued - but worst of all…


She was too tired to fix any of it.


Lyra stashed her belt in the nearest locker, and collapsed into the nearest bed as soon as she could, splaying herself out in it. It provided little relief to begin with - the sudden change not sitting well with her back, and while it slowly lessened, the pain along her legs was… Persistent. It lasted well after lights-out, causing her to toss and turn - what little sleep she got was either interrupted when her body reacted poorly to how she turned, or by that damnable itching. More than once, Lyra found her uniform pulled up to the middle of her stomach, just so she can reach beneath it and scratch at her crotch; fingers roaming through dense, sweat-matted hair to do so. 


She nodded in and out of unconsciousness enough to be unsure whether she was actively doing so, or if her body was unconsciously prompting her to scratch. Her body was itchy and sore. Her uniform was sticky and uncomfortable. What made things worse was the comings and goings of other grunts as they made their way into the dorms. She was no stranger to shared living spaces as far as sleeping went - it was a reality of a trainer’s lifestyle; given as much as she was on the road - but what she wasn’t used to was how the grunts were treating it.
Though she kept her eyes closed in a vain attempt to get to sleep, she could hear couples climbing into beds nearby. The simple metal bed frames creaked under their combined weight; and though they endeavored to remain quiet - she could still hear the rocking and groaning of their beds; she could still hear their muffled - or, hell, unrestrained groans. 


Lyra didn’t really fall asleep last night - she just passed out. Her PokeGear woke her - and a couple other dozing grunts nearby - when an alarm began to blare. She didn’t know what it was for - not in specific, at least - but she anticipated that it wasn’t something she should miss.


Now standing in the shower, she knew full well that… Most of her problems could’ve been avoided if she’d just mustered the effort to bathe the night before. She didn’t feel that uncomfortable stickiness now; and the worst of the soreness had already faded away, with time and with the soothing warmth of the water… It was easy for her to say she should have done it; but it was getting harder and harder to say she could have. Every day - every hour - she was learning more about her body. 


A moan rang out across the bathroom as the grunts two stalls over began to pick up their pace. The water had been tuning them out for a little while - but now it was becoming harder for her to avoid. The solemn look on Lyra’s face turned to one of frustration as she opens her tired eyes - she knew it was time for her to leave. 


She’d thought ahead to bring a towel in with her, which she wrapped around herself after she was finished drying off. The last thing she wanted was to give her… Begrudging compatriots a show, like the last time she was here. It was even more imperative now - more grunts seemed to fill the dorms now, congregating as they all prepare to go about their day. A grunt shoves open the door to the showers just as she prepares to pass through it - nearly knocking her over. She feels her temper flare up -


“Watch it!” the grunt whines, already hiking up her dress and flashing the pale curvature of her ass. Lyra shut up and looked away, grumbling. The grunts here were nothing if not… Immodest. The way they seemed to flirt around… Well; the way they seemed to sleep around made her uncomfortable… In more ways than one. It was just…


It was just wrong. She felt… Prudish saying it; her hand tightening around her towel as she keeps it tight over her slightly-sagging breasts. They were obviously criminals, but they weren’t savages. They had rules - even if they were very… Very evil ones. It just wasn’t right for them to be fraternizing so often. She told herself it wasn’t just because it was keeping her from sleeping, or because it made her want to-


Lyra bit her lower lip as she got to her locker - rather, the locker she’d taken as hers. She’d left it open - which was her only way of telling. Not just by virtue of how similar they all looked… But because everything had dissolved into an amorphous blob around her. Ariana was right - something of a trend, Lyra found - that she’d get used to the glasses she’d so-generously provided her. It was impossible to make out almost anything without them - and somehow her vision didn’t feel as clear as it used to be even with them on. 


She tried to put her mind off of the other grunts; but it was hard. She’d unfortunately discovered that many of them like to sleep nude or close to it - and there weren’t exactly any changing rooms. A grunt standing a couple bunks down was almost completely nude - sitting down, legs spread as she slips a bra; seeming not to be in any particular rush to don her panties. 


Lyra understood she’d have to undergo the same practice, but… She doubted she’d give anywhere near as pleasant of a view. She reached into the locker nearby and pulled out her… Plus-sized uniform, laying it out on the bed beforehand. She carefully lowered the towel, securing it around her waist as begins to affix her bra-


Only to feel a cool breeze rush past her exposed legs and crotch. Looking down, the first thing her eyes fall upon is a patch of red hair peeking over the surface of her dimpled-in navel. It descends quickly into a thick, still-slightly-moist forest of wiry red hair, eventually retreating under the fold of her stomach; though she already knew to expect more upon the surface of her crotch - which now stood bare for the entire dorms to see, even if her own body hid it from Lyra herself. 


A shrill whistle rings out from behind her - so loud and piercing she doubts anyone in the bunks hadn’t heard it. She doubts anyone in the bunks didn’t immediately look for the source… And find the sight of her pale, bare ass to greet their inquisitive eyes. 


“Shit, I know lookin’s free, but with an ass like that, somebody oughta fine ya.” a familiar voice jeers. Before Lyra can turn, she feels a flash of pain on her ass. Her hand reflexively runs across the uneven and flabby surface, brushing across more - albeit sparse - red hair; and a sore spot on the flesh beneath. Looking over her shoulder, she can see one of the grunts she’d fought during her initial escape. 


What she wouldn’t give to thrash him again. 


Her towel rested in his hands as he winds it up, grinning snidely at her. “Word ‘round tha base says ya got somethin’ a’ mine.” He motions to the locker - where Lyra’s belt is hanging; and her Pokeballs hang from her belt. “Boss lady took it. Now, I can’t just take it from her, but... “ He lashes the rolled-up towel at Lyra again, prompting her to stagger back. “I’m thinkin’ her little pet project forgot one of her Pokeballs somewhere.” 


There’s an odd atmosphere about the dorms. She can feel eyes burning into her unshapely body - even holding a hand over her crotch doesn’t do much to hide the hair prevalent across her crotch and stomach; nor that which sparsely flecks her legs. It’d be much too much to expect she’d be able to do anything about hiding her figure, either - even supported by one of her arms her breasts seem to do everything they can to escape her desperate attempt to preserve some form of modesty. She grits her teeth as the grunt stares her down. 


“You got somethin’ ta say tubby?” Lyra leers. “Yeah - tubby.” He emphasizes by poking her stomach. “Wide load. Four-eyes. Snorlax. Fat old hag,” Lyra can distantly register the grunt continue, but she can hardly hear him over the sound of her own heartbeat. Her fingers catch on stray strands of hair as she balls the hand covering her crotch into a fist. She was tired, sore, and livid. This place was draining her in ways she never thought she’d be drained - and to that end, there was an instant where she thought she had nothing to lose. Not to this dumb grunt that couldn’t win a single Pokemon battle. Not to this inexperienced clod. Not to this brat-


Lyra steps forward; filled with fury as she pulls her fist back, ready to knock the grunt into next week,


But as soon as she moves an inch forward, she feels the world upend itself. All that pent-up frustration and anger seem to melt into a disorienting haze, sending her down to her knees. She wavers a bit before falling onto her side, supporting herself on one of the bunks. The grunt is taken aback; and Lyra’s heartbeat dies down in her ears - only to be replaced by the sound of laughter.


“Tch. Yeah - that’s what I thought.” the grunt grumbles, stepping around the dizzy trainer. She felt sweat roll down her brow - already having worked herself up so much to do so. More than dizzy, she felt… Weak. Physically weak - like all the strength had seeped out of her bones. Her glasses sat askew on her face as she looked up - only to find another figure stepping in. 


“Hey.” a feminine voice calls.


The grunt is silent for a moment as he rifles through Lyra’s locker. “Yeah?” he murmured, turning back around. “What-”


A long-overdue blow finally lands on the other grunt, sending him to the floor beside Lyra. The entire dorms erupt with laughter - for the moment, not at Lyra’s expense. “Alright big gal,” Lyra looks up to see the pink-haired grunt reaching down, helping her back onto her feet. “on yer feet. That asshole ain’t gonna bother ya.” she assures. The grunt stamps a foot and snaps “RIGHT!?”


The floored thug spits on the ground; wisely keeping his mouth shut as he walks away. 


“That’s what I thought!” she taunts snidely, picking up Lyra’s towel. Lyra… Wearily sits down on her bunk, resting one hand on her head. “Here.” the pink-haired grunt offers, sitting beside her… Evidently undaunted by her nudity. The other team members’ attention seems to pursue the one that tried to hassle her - giving her something as close to privacy as she could manage in a place like this. 


Lyra wipes off her forehead and drops the towel. She sits up a little - pulling the uniform’s panties out from under her ass; - realizing she’d just plopped down on her uniform. But - one thing at a time, she assured herself. 


The friendlier grunt slugs her in the shoulder playfully. ”Don’t mind him. He doesn’t take losin’ well - ya’d figure he would, as much as he does it.” She snickers. “An’ hey - whatever happened ta ‘respect your elders’ anyway? I mean, we’re criminals, but every gang worth its salt has ta have some sorta code a’ conduct, right?”


Lyra sighs and nods - she hoped that was the case. Or- uh… Given her current… Enforced position, she would… Hope… Whatever. She slips her panties on; not wanting to waste her limited patience on questioning her morality. Besides - the grunt raised a point. Even if she wasn’t… Supposed to be, she was older than nearly everyone here. Even if she was a new member - they had to respect that, right? Her brow furrows. They should respect that. 


The grunt pats her on the back. “Good thing I found ya when I did. Looks like yer under my wing today, new blood.” Lyra cocked her brow. “Boss lady brought me in - I thought, that ain’t good - but she said yer on guard duty, and I had ta show ya tha ropes. I mean - I did… A little, I guess; and ya don’t look like tha type a’ gal that needs someone ta explain somethin’ twice. Age n’ wisdom n’ all that.” She pats her own thighs restlessly. “But hey, I don’t question her. Tha less ya think about what tha boss says, tha happier everyone is.”


While she prattled on, Lyra sat up and tried her best to smooth the wrinkles out of her sat-on uniform. She did a double-take to see if there were any more uniforms her size in the locker, but it seemed she was asking for too much. It isn’t much longer before she’s in uniform - all except her hat. She holds it in one hand and looks into the mirror, smoothing out her hair. Yesterday, she was satisfied… No - perhaps that was too strong a word. She begrudgingly accepted leaving her hair to simply be styled however it dried. Today, she pondered doing something different, but before she could even begin such an attempt, she was disarmed by her reflection.


On one hand, it was odd enough seeing her face framed by glasses. The strength of the prescription and the clunky shape of the frames made her eyes look a little bigger than they were supposed to; and her face hadn’t quite shaken off the look of frustration she’d been wearing before. On the other hand - there was something… Different about her reflection. Another alien feature dragging her, kicking and screaming, from the smiling face of the trainer she’d once been. 


She couldn’t tell what it was, at first. A subtle deepening of her crow’s feet? A little more prevalence in her laugh lines? Maybe it was just the tired look in her eyes; or the notable bags underneath. She spent so long studying her face, she almost neglected to look at her hair - and that’s where she found it.


Lyra hadn’t even gotten used to the new color of her hair, and here it was changing again.There was a lock of it, framing the side of her face, that seemed to be lightening. At first she thought it might be brightening to a shade of pink - it seemed to be common among the grunts, but…


But… 


It didn’t seem to be brightening. If anything; fading. She reached up and pulled a couple strands into her field of vision - the closest she could describe the color would be like… Dry rose petals. A very washed-out, pale shade of reddish-pink. Not even particularly close to red anymore - if anything, closer to… Grey.


Lyra wished she could say her heart dropped as she came upon the realization, but truthfully, she didn’t feel anything of the sort. It wasn’t as though she was totally unaffected, but… Her initial reaction was to recall the grunt’s words. ‘Respect your elders’... She supposed it helped sell that kind of image. She sighs - looking down and affixing her hat. She didn’t just want to take her eyes off of the sight of greying hair - Lyra didn’t want to keep staring at the bitter-looking woman in the mirror.


“Ya ready?” the grunt muses, standing up. “Shift begins in 15. Well, uh- lemmie see that.” Lyra holds up her Pokegear, and the grunt snaps her fingers. “Your shift begins in 15. Mine ends in about 30, so… That’s enough time ta get ya all set up, n’ probably shoot tha shit for a lil’ before I’m off.” She claps her hands excitedly. “Y’know tha way, right?”


Lyra nods - for better or worse, she was starting to get used to this place.


“You lead tha way, then.” The grunt bows a little - theatrically enough that Lyra can’t tell if she’s taunting her or not. “After you, ma’am.”


Ma’am. Lyra lowers her head a little bit; if only to hide the faintest bit of a smirk on her face. Days ago, she would’ve been confused - even offended. In part, it was still disarming to think a woman like that would be speaking to her so formally… But, a part of her told herself it was… Proper. She couldn’t handle any more disrespect from those grunts - she wouldn’t tolerate it anymore… Especially if it set her off to the point of making her nearly pass out. If acting like that - thinking like that - was what it took to keep in higher spirits, then so be it. 


Lyra led the way through the halls at first briskly - keeping pace with the grunt, but before long she noticed the other woman beginning to gain a few paces on her. She could feel her breaths getting heavier as she walked - and even if they’d taken a dozen turns, she knew they hadn’t gone terribly far. Lyra huffed as they finally arrived at the elevator, leaning against a wall and catching her breath. 


“You alright there? Ya took a pretty big fall back in tha dorms - that asshole musta knocked tha wind outta ya, huh?” Knocked….? Lyra nodded, anyway. If the grunt thought she went down after taking a hit, she’d let her. It was… Fine lying to this grunt. She as gullible anyway; but for as dim as she was, she seemed to be on Lyra’s side. A friend was exactly what she needed right now - a little manipulation was worth it, right? 


A sour look crossed Lyra’s face as that thought crossed her mind. 


The woman shrugged. “Well, tha good news is ya don’t gotta worry ‘bout a lot. Like I said tha other day - watch tha elevator, beat up anyone that comes through that ain’t wearin’ one a’ these.” She jabs her thumb into her own breast in a rather crude acknowledgement of her uniform. “It’s hell on your back, but…” The grunt leans against the wall opposite Lyra. “Nobody’ll blame ya if ya take it easy.”


Lyra straightens up a little, moving over to the elevator. There was enough room on either side for her to stand; so she positions herself in the corner; between the wall and the keycard slot. The other grunt nods affirmingly.


Another day of work, Lyra thought - she wasn’t particularly elated. She was glad to have the company of the pink-haired woman for as long as it lasted, but soon, she had to leave - and outside of the occasional thug passing through the halls, company was in short supply. Even unsupervised, Lyra at least… Attempted to do the job. She crossed her arms over her chest and stood upright - at first facing the elevator, and routinely looking back down the hallway. She wasn’t about to kill herself with a patrol - so that was the closest thing she could do to make the rounds.


She supposed the work she’d done the day prior had adequately prepared her for today. She had an actual task and work to do then; but now, she had nothing… And so nothing was exactly what settled on her mind. She zoned out; letting one arm fall to her side and the other come to support itself on her belt. The disproportionate weight of her belly and breasts seemed to naturally drag her forward and downward - she kept finding herself slouching, and every attempt she made to correct her posture was a little more uncomfortable - eventually even painful - than the last. 


Eventually, the elevator dinged. Having stood in the same place for over an hour, Lyra perked up and turned her attention to it. The hand on her belt reflexively moved to one of her Pokeballs…


But she quickly moved it away. A grunt exited the elevator, pushing a cart with several ‘S’ boxes… Or was that a 5? Damn - even with her glasses, she couldn’t tell before it was carted away. She blamed it on the small print on the cardboard. 


The elevator rumbled softly as it made its way back up. Lyra’s eyes drooped tiredly as she returned to her routine. She tried her best not to look at the clock - but it still felt like the minutes moved by at a crawl that’d make a Shuckle jealous. She felt a bead of sweat roll down her forehead, and she felt the slightest bit tired as she moved up to wipe it off. She hadn’t been doing anything, but the mere act of standing for an extended period of time was enough to tire her out. She walked over to the other side of the elevator; and she felt a twinge of pain fire off in each of her legs.


Lyra sighs. 


This was going to be a long day.