Chapter 2 - Part Two

No - no, of course not. Lyra’s hand raised to her head, nearly knocking off her cap. This entire situation was making her head spin - and she was sure that Ariana was smart enough to be taking advantage of that. Smart, she thinks - and cruel. Her trembling fingers come to rest on the brim of her cap, tipping it down in some attempt to hide her eyes.


“There, there.” Ariana patronizingly coos. “Come along now. I have plans for-”


Lyra’s boots make a soft squeal against the metallic floor as she executes a quick turn, bolting for the door. She can feel the thick, rubbery material hug tightly and uncomfortably against her soft thighs as she flees; each footfall rewarding her with a wince of pain - both along her thighs and in her feet as well. One thing she hadn’t noticed growing - not until the confined insides of the boots began to bite against her toes, ankles, and heels - were her feet. The extent of this change was something she only wanted to think about with morbid curiosity; but at the moment, fear trumped concern. Her only goal at the moment was to get as much distance between herself and the scientist. She can only distantly hear the sound of Ariana groan behind her - deafened by distance and the reverberating pounding of her frantic heartbeat. “After her!” she orders the other grunts, who spring into motion moments too late to catch up. 


Lyra rounds her first corner, expecting to do so quickly; but the unfamiliar weight of her body sends her careening against a wall. She plants a hand firmly against it to shove off, stumbling as she continues to run. Even if it was less than ten minutes ago that Team Rocket dragged her down here, trying to recall the path they’d taken was like trying to recall a different life entirely. After she got knocked out by those grunts, they took her down an elevator - but the amount of halls she was passing in this doubly-hidden sub-level caused a well of doubt to spring free. She was taking turns in the labyrinth of identical hallways in progressively worse faith in her memory, but if she could just lose those grunts…


Lyra continued to run. Beyond tiring; beyond the frustratingly-difficult maze of hallways, it was giving her an uncomfortably intimate lesson about her new body. Her stomach, once flat, now shook with every step, shifting the uniform with it. That was to say nothing of her breasts - she’d already popped free of her bra. The tightness of her dress was the only solace she had to keep them supported; but the demolished garment sitting loosely within the uniform wasn’t helping. The child-sized skirt didn’t want to stay in place on her thighs - however high it was resting already - and Lyra’s face flushed red when she noticed a distinct draft drifting between her legs. Both gloved hands came to grasp one side of the bunched-up skirt, yanking it down as her gait momentarily becomes mincing…


And Lyra comes to a slow stop when she hears a harsh rip; and feels fabric give way to her enlarged form. She pulls her hands away; one rising up to her back, the other awkwardly hanging over the skirt as she surveys the damage. The defined seam upon her skirt had simply parted - causing Lyra to balk. A white - and greatly taxed - pair of panties was clearly visible through the tear. Lyra noticed the slightest hint of red beneath them; but she was much too busy surveying the damage to pay it any mind.


 It was clearly the worst of the damage; as it seemed that the collar of the uniform seems to have come away from the back. Lyra had hoped that wouldn’t have any effect - but as she began to run again, she immediately noticed the issue it caused. Yielding a bit of room to her breasts caused them to bounce around freely; and even if the uniform was composed of a… Distressingly comfortable material; the sensation of Lyra’s nipples freely rubbing against it as she ran was enough to slow her down. 


The not-so-young trainer grit her teeth; choking back a baleful cry. She supported herself against a wall, collecting herself… And, she hoped, collecting information. Even if this was Rocket’s home turf; it seemed like the maze-like halls worked in her favor. She couldn’t hear any frantic footsteps coming her way - so clearly the grunts Ariana sent after her hadn’t caught up. Clearly, she thinks with a weak smile, they were around more for muscle than anything else.


She gave a harsh huff as she shoved away from the wall again. One hand sunk between her legs, keeping the torn halves of her skirt together, and keeping the material taut. She continues down the hall, promptly ducking into a nearby room. It seemed to be some sort of break room - a table in the middle, a TV, a couple loose boxes - even a houseplant. She slowly walks inward, plopping down at one of the seats by the table. Wearily, she rests an arm on the table; and her head on her hand. Her chest was still heaving from all the running she did. The least she could do was give herself a quick break before getting back to running. There was no way the grunts would stumble on her in here-


“Hey!” a voice called from the doorway. Lyra stiffened, eyes locked forward. She can hear the familiar clapping of boots coming her way - the same boots she was wearing; give or take a few sizes larger. Ariana’s words echo in her ears - “no Pokemon, no defenses... No fitting clothes.” Her hand tightens around the fabric she’s desperately trying to keep together…


“You slackin’ off? It’s my turn for a break, y’know.”


Eh? Lyra gained enough confidence to look over her shoulder at the pink-haired woman standing with one hand on her hip, the other held up in incredulity. A look of confusion sits upon the grunt’s face - and her eyes leer for a moment… Before fading into careless neutrality. 


“Whatever. Hey - get up. Watchin’ the elevator’s hell on my back.” Lyra stands, keeping a hold of her skirt as the other grunt paws at her belt. Did she really… Not recognize her? Or, at the very least; did she not notice anything suspicious? Even as far as a grunt went, she didn’t really… Fit the mold. Lyra felt a chill - was it just that the grunt didn’t know? Didn’t care? Or was she really that far gone…?


The grunt drops her belt on the table, and upon it, she can see a Pokeball glinting in the fluorescent lighting of the break room. Next to it, she can see a black keycard, emblazoned with a familiar R. Lyra tilts her head, looking over at it…


“You gonna take it or what?” the grunt grumbles. “Man - new blood like you always ticks me off. Just wait ‘till tha boss comes back; he’ll really whip you runs inta shape.” The grunt picks the downsized ball and keycard off of her belt and shoves them into Lyra’s hands, causing the dumbfounded trainer to stagger back. The look of confusion on her face only worsens the look of frustration on the grunt’s. Rolling her eyes, she holds her hands up. “Look - I’ll spell it out for ya. Go out tha door, take a left, right, left, then tha next two rights. I’m bein’ nice here - if redhead or the other creeps find out you’re slackin’ off, it’ll be hell ta pay. Just get out there; watch tha elevator - rough up any locals or brats that come through.” She leans forward - rather; nearly lunges forward. “Got it?”


Lyra nods. Left, right, left, two rights, she recites in her head - she’s got it. She’s got…


Lyra smiles, turning away. She’s got a way out of this nightmare.


Lyra yelps as she feels a harsh swat on her ass; followed by a snicker. “Knock ‘em dead, new blood.” the grunt snickers. “And don’t forget ta pass that card ta tha next shift!”


Wasting no time, Lyra exits the break room, taking her first left. She follows the other… Helpful…? Grunt’s directions, still feeling a faint stinging on her rear - and a heat in her face. The brief break - as odd as it became - gave her some time to settle down, but when she thought of that - when she felt that - she felt even more anxious than before. It wasn’t the same kind of anxiety; the same kind of fear, though. She had a suspicion of what it was, but… She just didn’t understand why she was feeling it, especially around these people. These dimwitted grunts. That cruel woman…


Lyra perishes the thought as she arrives at the elevator room - dead center in the middle of the hall. Rather than buttons on the nearby panel, there was a single slot. She plucks the keycard off of her belt and slots it in - there’s a brief delay; during which Lyra can’t help but worry… But mercifully, the panel gives an affirmative ping, and the doors quickly open. Her lips curl into a relieved smile as she steps in, smashing the up button.


It’s a short ride up before the doors open - and she quickly steps out. One hand rests upon the Pokeball… And, bitterly, she thinks of her Pokemon. They had to be here somewhere. She was knocked out on the second floor; in the midst of disabling the headquarters’ generator - and the first thing the Rocket goons took from her was her team. Ariana’s dimwitted escorts took her away, while other grunts grabbed her Pokeballs - so for all she knew, they were still upstairs. 


Even if time was of the essence… She couldn’t afford to leave them behind. Ariana could call her childish all she wanted - but she knew she had an obligation to her Pokemon.


She stepped out from the elevator, and the doors closed behind her; followed by a bank of machinery rising up from the floor to conceal it. Lyra knew this place was built from a refitted ninja house, but that level of secrecy meant they had something serious to hide - more serious than their radio experiment. But what…?


She had to use her keycard again just to get out of the room - then she bolted up the stairs…


The wrong stairs. She found herself in some sort of storage room - full of cardboard boxes. Most of them had wires and disassembled mechanical components - the likes of which Lyra couldn’t quite understand - but there were a few Pokeballs… Empty ones, sadly. She bit her lip, frustratedly throwing one back into the box she’d pulled it out of before marching down the stairs. When she moved to stand…


She heard another harsh rip. 


Lyra looked down again - she ran a gloved hand down her side; and found the seam of her dress completely torn apart. A quick survey on her opposite side revealed a similar story. Soft - paler? - skin poked out of the dress, and the first step she took toward the stairs threatened to tear it again. Her frustration boiling over, the trainer punts the box full of Pokeballs - sending them clattering onto the floor… And Lyra nearly to her knees with the pain of kicking with ill-fitting boots. She practically limped down the stairs, and over to the next - and mercifully correct - stairwell.


Lyra couldn’t help but waddle as she made her way through the halls of the facility - thankfully, she was treading more familiar ground. If she had to navigate the lower labyrinth at her mincing pace, she’d have never made it out. She hates the idea of basing her gait on the fragility of her clothes - but it’s not like she can do anything about it. Not until she was home free. 


Eventually, she makes it up the last stairwell in the Rocket facility - to her left; she sees a floor arranged like a checkerboard. Given as far off as her initial incursion into this place felt, she didn’t trust her recollection of which panels had traps hidden beneath them…


More importantly, she didn’t trust her dexterity in avoiding the ones she did recall being trapped. The hall leading around the trapped floor was long and winding - but it’d have to do. Lyra gingerly passes by the checkerboard floor…


And into the line of sight of a nearby Persian statue.


“Intruder alert! Intruder alert!”


Lyra reels back, moving back toward the stairwell - but as she hears an indistinct shout from below, she runs forward. Each step stressed the failing seams of her dress even more - the tears even continuing well past them. Her skirt’s tear continues upward, into the midsection of her outfit. The shifting of her now-pronounced stomach bunches it up - just as her thighs had been bunching up the undersized skirt before - leaving her with a gentle breeze against the exposed fold of flab. 


A harsh, metallic groaning booms through the hall, as the wall leading to the winding path opens up; a barrier sliding quickly into place. Lyra sprints forward, hoping to squeeze by before it secures itself… But one of her boots gives out, causing her to tumble down to her knees. The frustrated trainer raises a fist, and brings it down on the floor in tandem with the barrier locking into place. That didn’t happen before, she thinks - and now her only avenue of escape was the trapped floor. 


She crawls back around - ignoring the sensation of open air on her mostly-exposed ass - and sees a pair of grunts coming up the stairs. At first, they look down the trapped hallway - but one slugs the other in the shoulder and points to Lyra. At least these ones are more cognizant, she thought bitterly. 


One of the grunts laughs, pulling a ball from his belt; prompting Lyra to do the same. “Dunno where you got that uniform - but I think you should get your money back.” he teases. Lyra furrows her brow, staggering up to her feet. He rolls his Pokeball across the tiled floor; bursting open to release a Rattata. It leers and gnashes its teeth at Lyra - even before she’s sent hers out. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to expect from what the ‘kind’ grunt had given her… But she can only hope for the best. She throws her ball high; bursting like a firework in midair before sending the device back into her palm.


Just like a firework; as soon as the burst of light fades, a subtle, faintly-burned scent fills the air. Hovering before her was the familiar silhouette of a Koffing. It tips just slightly in the air, spinning around like a globe on a tilted axis, as it observes its trainer. She can see a curious expression on its face - which fades back into a dimwitted smile as it registers the familiar, but slightly-deformed R on her outfit.


Okay, she thinks - she’s caught one of these before. Too… Fragrant to use, but she had one. She extends a hand forward, pointing toward the Rattata. Before she even gets an order out - the other Grunt barks “Tackle!” 


His Rattata runs forward, leaping up with surprising power to ram the Koffing. It lists slightly backward - bringing with it a scent that prompts Lyra to cover her nose - but slowly works its way forward once more. She puffs out her chest and takes a deep breath of the foul air before calling out her command. “Use sludge!”


Her hand jumps from her nose to her lips. She recognized her voice somewhere in the words; but not easily. It was much like her normal tone, but… Huskier. A little deeper. More mature. She supposed she should’ve expected that - but… She’s shocked that she didn’t. Meanwhile; her Koffing’s smoking pores seem to retract inward for a moment - and with a muculent sound, a globule of purplish fluid exits its mouth - and gas from its vents. It strikes the Rattata, inundating the petite rat with ooze. 


“Come on, you stupid-!” the grunt whines. “Tackle!” The Rattata tries to get a running start - but its body and legs are still gummed by the sludge; and even lazily listing to the side, Koffing manages to dodge its assault. 


Rather than return to its trainer, the Rattata takes up a position between Lyra and Koffing. With another cry of “Hit ‘em with Sludge!”, Koffing regurgitates more of the purple fluid, sending it slopping across the floor as it strikes the Rattata again. This time, it doesn’t manage to rise out of the puddle. A stream of light recalls it to its ball; leaving a rat-shaped hole in the puddle at Lyra’s feet. With that win under her belt… She couldn’t lie - she was feeling better about herself. 


“Gaaaah! Useless!” The grunt stamps a foot, stepping back. “Should’ve tossed it from the start!” Lyra grimaces at the implication. She steps forward, only for the grunt’s compatriot to follow suit. 


He tosses his solitary Pokeball in the air, then catches it. “Alright; you’re dealin’ with me now.” he grumbles, tossing it up again… But he doesn’t catch it.


Lyra gulps as she sees who did. 


“She’ll be facing me.” Ariana stands with the grunt’s Pokeball in her hand, nudging him aside. There’s a clear look of frustration upon her face, flashing to anger as she whips the Pokeball forward. From it, a Voltorb springs, skidding across the hallway as it makes its way toward Lyra’s Koffing. The two spheroid Pokemon stare each-other down - one with eyes of fury, the other with… Not much care at all.


Ariana catches the ball as it returns to her; her knuckles going white as she balls a fist around it. “It seems I’ve made a miscalculation in the process. Admittedly an error on my part, I failed to provide a thorough examination of your mental faculties prior to setting you loose, taking it on good faith that they’d be… Ideally in-line with that of the Lake of Rage experiment.” she explains. “In essence; I believe we’ve failed to get rid of your proverbial ‘inner child’.”


Lyra balls her fist, preparing to order her Koffing. Ariana holds up a hand, and casually utters two words. 


“Self Destruct.”


The Voltorb’s body begins to glow - with Lyra taking a cautious step back. Uncaring or unaware; the Koffing hovers nearby - oblivious and unprotected. Static visibly crackles in the air around the Voltorb - until the energy it coalesces is finally released in a shockwave, scorching its way down the hall. When the light abates, the entire hall is covered with clear scorch marks - Koffing’s sludge and even scent having been burned away with the blast. A nearby Persian statue cracks and crumbles, and in the center of the blast zone, both Voltorb and Koffing sit unconscious. With a trembling hand, Lyra recalls the Koffing. She reflexively reaches for another Pokeball, but…


She finds none. Be it the fatigue from her attempted escape, the shock of the blast, or merely the defeat, Lyra finds her strength leaving her body. Ariana walks across the blasted hall, the clicking of her heels evoking a sensation much more menacing than they had any right to. As she passes the Voltorb, she punts it aside. Lyra sits up, preparing to protest, but stops as Ariana does. Not simply because of the imposing Rocket admin - but because of the soft, rattling hiss filling the air. Out from behind her slinks an Arbok, leering menacingly down at the defeated trainer.


“It seems you have no Pokemon remaining. I’m sure you understand what that means.” she murmurs, crossing her arms. Lyra lowers her head. “It means that the tools you used were worthless.” 


Lyra looks up again. “You’ve proven yourself in battle - at least in your eyes. Don’t those little trinkets you collected mean that? You know how to fight. You weren’t the issue.” Ariana’s Arbok hisses, circling around Lyra. “Your Pokemon were. You weren’t defeated because you’re unfit - nor even by a grand strategy. You were bowled over by brute force, and undone by an advantage of numbers.” She leans down, reaching a hand out and running it across Lyra’s cheek. “This is your next lesson. Pokemon are tools; worth only as much as their use to you. If they can’t fight for you - if they can’t be sold, or used for research… Then they’re to be discarded.”


Lyra can practically feel tears welling up in her eyes as the admin’s hand continues past her cheek; back to her hair. “Don’t misunderstand.” she begins, sweetly. “I’m not saying they’re not disposable either. Look at the Voltorb. It served its purpose in its expenditure. That Koffing failed. What does that make it?” Lyra’s lips quiver. Ariana’s fingers finally reach the tie keeping one of her pigtails in place - and quickly removes it. She can feel her hair fall loosely over her shoulder and back. “And even before we began our experiment together… What became of your old team?” Lyra gasps. “Trusted friends and companions. Too weak to handle the inexperienced youth of Team Rocket.” She unties the other tie; letting them both drop to the floor. Slowly, she leans in, until her lips are inches from Lyra’s ear. “What does that… Make… Them?”


Ariana gives a husky chuckle as she pulls away - where Lyra’s eyes had been on her, she now finds Arbok looming mere inches away. The whites of its eyes flash a sickly yellow for just a moment, and Lyra can feel as though a sense of… Calm has washed over her. She isn’t trembling anymore. She doesn’t feel like she’s about to cry. She feels…


Wait, does she feel anything?


“While you ponder that, this is your next lesson. Some things in life are non-negotiable. Your role in Team Rocket is one of them. I won’t be providing you with the illusion of choice this time.” She snaps her fingers, and the grunts she’d fought pick her up - to no resistance. Her body isn’t responding - adding to the alienness of its alterations. 


Ariana clicks her tongue; placing a hand on her chest. “But, I’m not heartless.” One of the grunts gives a barely-audible huff in response. “I’ll let you keep that worthless tool. There’s potential in it… And I’ll be elated to teach it to you. Besides…” She removes Lyra’s cap, running her hand through her hair. Only the closest roots still bear her familiar brown tone - all else having been swallowed up by a vibrant shade of red. Ariana’s shade of red. “It’s the first Pokemon you’ve ever stolen. Maybe there’s more Team Rocket in you than you think.”


Lyra’s heart dropped. The grunts march her to the stairway, with Ariana chuckling along behind them. “Don’t worry. This won’t be a completely fresh start for you.” The malicious woman pulls a Net Ball off of her belt, holding it up. If Lyra’s eyes could widen, they would. “After all, you do own our second-best experiment.”


Her head hung low as she was led away. Ariana’s words swirled like a vortex in her head - unceasing until…


Lyra blacked out.