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A Lesson in Maturity

It was a cold day in Mahogany town. Rumbling storm clouds; so deep a grey they nearly mimicked the night sky, hung over the town, stretching from the Lake of Rage to the north. The people of the town had been noticing strange events like this for the past couple of months - all since somebody moved into that old ninja house. Mahogany was a small town; an old town. Superstition came easily to its people. Did the new residents disturb the spirits of dead shinobi? The souls of their victims? Or perhaps there was something wrong with the lake - but that wouldn't explain the harsh droning sound; or why the radios and PokeGear of natives and travelers alike went on the fritz whenever they came near. Perhaps there was an evil lurking in that house. An urban legend that was enough to incite the long-buried curiosity of the locals; and inflame that of the next generation of trainers.

Lyra knew better than to expect spirits; but she knew full well that there was an evil from the past lurking in the dozy Johto town. An evil she'd sought to defeat - an evil she hoped to catch by surprise, in disguise... And an evil that was dragging her by the arms deeper into the hidden facility beneath the wholly-unsuspicious gift shop. Two Rocket grunts tossed her unceremoniously into a metal chair, padded by leather. Be it the slumped posture she assumed or the size of the seat itself - it seemed much too big for her. A series of clicks echo from the hall she'd been dragged through - heralding the arrival of the red-haired executive of the Rocket revivalist movement. Ariana; a woman whose thick brows furrow as she sees the defeated trainer before her.

"Team Rocket is no stranger to those unfit to represent them," she begins, tilting her head upward if only to secure the slightest bit greater of a vantage to look down upon Lyra from. "but this is especially pathetic."

Lyra's hands wrap around the arms of the chair, and she begins to steady herself. Ariana snaps her fingers - and the grunts move to flank the seat. Each one places their arms upon Lyra's shoulders and hands, holding her down as they affix metal - but, mercifully, padded restraints to her wrists and ankles. She opens her mouth to protest; but the executive cuts her off. "What ignorance. Arrogance! It's all the same with you brats. You think just because you have a Pokemon, it makes you special. What a childish notion." She snaps again, and the grunts file out of the room and back into the hall. Ariana walks around Lyra's seat; the young trainer's gaze following her - catching sight of the odd texture of the walls around her. They were padded with something thick and rubbery; but she can see lights pulsating between seams in the material. She can hear a soft clattering - and then, clicking.

"I've already faced enough indignance from the likes of you. Team Rocket exists in a world you can't fathom; the world of adulthood, where your little delusions of grandeur won't fly." There's a soft sparking noise; followed by a low, electronic hum. With a few gentle clicks, Ariana steps back around to the front of Lyra's seat. "But I don't believe you're useless. Children grow up; they learn. Delusions are dispelled... And the quicker you learn, the quicker you can be useful."

She turns up her nose and walks out of the room, her delicately-manicured hands running along the rubbery wall until they arrive at something resembling a light switch. "A wise scientist once posited that humans and Pokemon have a common ancestor." she begins. If a Pokemon's evolution can be manipulated with radio waves..." She trails off, chuckling darkly. She flicks the switch - and the hum resounding around the room begins to grow louder. "Well. We'll see the results in a few moments. Until then - think of this as a learning experience, for the both of us."

The door that closes behind Ariana isn't a run-of-the-mill construction of wood or metal; it's a sealed bulkhead, with a little circular window - just wide and just tall enough for Lyra to see Ariana's smug grin on the other side. This wasn't some innocuous or useless room in the Rocket HQ; this was a test chamber!

The lights pulsating along the walls grew dimmer, then brighter; rhythmically. A bead of sweat rolled down the young trainer's forehead as the hum continued to escalate - but seemed to be lowering for brief intervals, in time with the lights. The time it took for the lights to go from dim to radiant grew slower over the following minutes - and Lyra began to feel... Wrong.

It began as a faint discomfort; her chest grating against the fabric of her outfit. Then; her thighs - then her stomach. She couldn't explain it; not until she could see the fabric pushing out - the dark material stretched so thin that she could just faintly make out the color of her skin beneath it.

She observed the defined shape of her stomach bulge out against the midsection of her outfit - dimpling over the belt; while her thighs developed a similar excess of flesh over the tops of the uniform's boots.

More concerningly - the expanding shape of her stomach was made harder to track as her breasts swelled out - deforming the bright red R emblazoned on the uniform.

Her mouth fell agape in silent shock - only to snap shut; when she notices something more. Was the floor growing further away, or...?

Lyra gulped. She could see the territory between her skirt and boots growing longer - exposing more of the thicker flesh. There was a deep discomfort; deep in her bones; her legs, her back - to a lesser degree, her arms as well. By now, the hum had reached a paradoxical borderline between deafening and white noise - booming against her ears and muting all other sound. Muting the shifting of fabric over her deforming body; the hastened breathing of the dumbfounded trainer, and the creaking of leather as her body grew up and out into a more upright position.

She could feel the seams of her clothes approach their limit. She was reticent to move; fearing the slightest motion would rend them apart - and the only thing she feared more than being defeated by these Rocket goons was to be seen... Lyra feels heat flush into her face; pink into her cheeks. She didn't anticipate that kind of reaction - what had gotten into her? She...

She noticed the humming beginning to grow softer - slower. She looked to the door, and saw the two pink-haired grunts fighting over a chance to peek through the window. Only when the humming finally grow silent did the bulkhead hiss; forcing the two grunts to step away. As soon as it had opened, they file in; set upon Lyra before she could even react. Before she could even demand to be set free - the grunts were... Already doing it. The restraints clatter off of her ankles, then wrists - and then, she tries to get up... Only to tip forward, falling onto the floor. She can hear the grunts snicker at her; causing her blush to deepen.

"Well, well." Ariana's husky voice croons from the hall, stepping in with her arms crossed beneath her arms. "It seems you've certainly... Matured."

Lyra rises on shaky legs, her knees nearly buckling as they strain to support the unfamiliar growth; even their own. She furrows her brow - which, just like most of her body, feels unfamiliar. She raises a hand toward Ariana, but... Lowers it down to her breasts. Seeing her body change was one thing; but seeing it in motion... Was surreal. It felt like she was having an out of body experience; watching some unfamiliar... Woman move about. An unfamiliar, slightly chubby woman in a Rocket uniform. Another bead of sweat rolled down her forehead - looking like this, would anyone even recognize her? She reaches up to one of her pigtails; still feeling the familiar shape. Maybe-

Ariana reaches up to the other, running her fingers through it. "My my. That color is certainly familiar." Lyra's heart sank. What had she done...? The executive walked around Lyra until she was face to face - and disturbingly, eye-to-eye. "Perhaps this is a little much to take in." she begins, chuckling softly. "But don't you worry. You can rest in the dormitories." Lyra opens her mouth, only for Ariana to plant a finger upon her lips. "Ah-ah. Consider your response wisely. You're a woman in uniform. What might be mere fabric to a child is something much more to adults like us. It comes with responsibility; and most importantly... A responsibility to obey your superior."

She leans in, chuckling. "And your superior says, rest. Consider this your first lesson in adulthood. The first, I hope, of many I'll have a chance to teach."

Lyra takes a step back, her hands trembling - her legs trembling... Her entire body trembling. The hall behind her was clear - but she wasn't sure how far she could get in this new body; especially with her Pokemon having been confiscated. It was a chance at freedom... But a risky one. On the other hand, submitting to Ariana gave her a chance to bide her time and wait for a better opportunity... But she wasn't sure what the madwoman had in store, with as much as she'd done. She bit her lip, looking down at herself. What could she do...?

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.

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…

---

Lyra's fingers relax around the cap; removing one hand to run through the top of her head. She can feel dried strands of hair already parting from the damp hair beneath; rising up a little bit. She grimaces a little, running her fingers along her hairline. Did she always have a widow's peak, or…?

No. No she didn't. That realization alone was enough to excise the temptation to look in the mirror. She wouldn't lie to herself - she wasn't strong enough to confront the woman that would be staring back at her. Her hair… Would do what it wanted to. Even if she wanted to style it; her hair ties were abandoned on the top level of the subterranean facility - probably already swept away and discarded. Team Rocket was nothing if not efficient about getting rid of things it couldn't use.

She puts the cap on; and even for as familiar as it feels… She also feels nauseatingly obedient. It was part of the uniform, after all. Even if she understandably would stand out in the base, she just felt like another grunt in a uniform.

She hears a knocking - and finds a cold-looking grunt leaning against the doorframe. “The administrator wants to see you." she orders, waving Lyra along. Was that grunt just waiting for her? Lyra supposed that would definitely be plausible - she wouldn't put it past Ariana to keep tabs on her… To say nothing of the apparent lack of privacy around the dorms and showers. “Follow along. Pay attention to the path - the administrator wants you familiarized with the layout of the facility as soon as possible. While she didn't mention any repercussions if you fail to do so…" The grunt looks down a little, then back up. “The administrator can be exacting."

Lyra felt a chill; and she can't tell if it's the grunt's words, or the last of the warmth of the shower fading from her body.

The unwittingly-conscripted trainer was much more cognizant as she navigated the labyrinthine halls now than when she'd last left the test chamber - hell, more than when she was just running to get away from Ariana. Learning the halls would be useful… For more than just doing what they were telling her, right? Her mind wandered back to when she'd first been freed from the chair - when she imagined she had options; the illusion of choice Ariana so-magnanimously dispelled her of. They seemed ready to just accept her as some browbeaten minion - and, given what she'd gone through, she couldn't blame them for taking her as demoralized into obedience. In a sense, she was. But… That was useful. If they thought she was ready to play by their rules, then she had time to use what she learned to her advantage. Maybe escape?

But, even then… It wasn't as if she could fix this alone. One step at a time, she told herself.

“We're here. See yourself in." The grunt motioned to a door with a red stripe on it - peeking through a window upon it, she can see Ariana standing behind a desk - her back to the door. She seemed to be holding something; and Lyra can hear her voice, albeit muffled. The grunt was already walking away when Lyra opened the door; earning her a look from over Ariana's shoulder. The red-haired admin smiles, then resumes speaking.

“And it's based on those findings that I believe we're acting prematurely. I don't think he'd want to come back; as we are now. If we postpone…" Ariana pauses. “This is insurance. Eliminating the margin of error. The Lake of Rage should've proven that." Crassly, the administrator grunts. “Two weeks, then. And, about the Celadon revival project…" Ariana pulls a phone away from her ear, tilting her head. “Proton?" Silence. She scoffs, setting the blocky device back on its wall-mounted cradle.

Lyra tilts her head; but the immediate response she's given is one of open arms and a wide - if sinister - smile. “My my - looks like it only took a little soap and water to wash off the last of your imperfections." She walks around the desk, bracing one arm under her breasts and supporting the other with one hand. A finger curls beneath her chin as she looks Lyra over - observes her as one would a work of art. “And a new wardrobe, of course. Blast that Proton - if he didn't have me doing his job, I could've overseen this personally…"

Lyra gulps. The last image she needed in her head was Ariana joining her in the shower.

“But, nevermind that. You look well on your way - and you're already showing just how bright you are. After that last tantrum, I wasn't sure you'd cooperate." She leans in, chuckling. “Maybe you're growing up quicker than I gave you credit for." Stepping back, she motions toward a chair opposite her desk. “Sit." she orders; walking around to a seat of her own. When Lyra lowers herself into the wooden chair, it gives a soft and plaintive creak - and the claustrophobically-tight arms built into the chair hug uncomfortably against her thighs.

Ariana pulls out a drawer on her side of the desk, and pulls out a handful of items. The first makes Lyra's eyes light up - a PokeGear. Her PokeGear. Its vibrant pink coloration was the same as she remembered it… But, as though Ariana registers the familiarity, she turns it over. The maintenance panel on the back is… Decidedly different. It's a stark black; and beyond the plastic seems to have been melted together with the rest of the device - making it impossible to remove. The next thing she pulls out is… A belt, followed by three Pokeballs and a keycard. The ball in the center is a Net ball - just looking at it makes her shudder.

“First thing's first. We took the liberty of modifying your device. Its clock is functional, but the phone can only operate via local communications. Second-" She motions to the keycard. “you're being entrusted with access to the primary sublevels and deeper sublevels; but until further notice, no surface access." She motions to herself. “Frankly, I find much more comfort in climate-controlled research facilities. While I can't mandate it, I do hope you find similar solace." There's a pause before she motions to the balls. “If not, don't get any ideas about tanning your lovely complexion away. We burn."

Lyra's brow cocked. We? She… She looks down at her hands, folded in her lap. Obviously there was more going on with her body than simply getting older and chubbier, but this was the first time Ariana had addressed it so… Explicitly.

“Ohoho… You seem conflicted." Ariana teases. “Never you worry. Our… Connection was not premeditated, but think of yourself as lucky." Lucky? Lyra gives a breathless chuckle. “No matter what came of the experiment, we were always going to see it through together. I was prepared to supervise study in any regard… And as your supervisor, I've been given a more intimate lens into your condition than either of us could have asked for. I know myself better than anyone else…" She trails off. “And now, I'd wager I understand more about you than you do yourself. I would offer for you to trust me..." Ariana leans back, picking up one of the Pokeballs. “But trust is simply something to be exploited. Take that to heart."

In a way, Lyra knew she was already preparing to. She wanted to deceive Team Rocket. She'd already stolen a Pokemon, and… This whole nightmare began when she broke into their facility in disguise. The parallels Lyra was drawing between herself and the villainous gang weren't making her any happier. Ariana broke her from her train of though as she continued.

“These are to be your tools. That useless Koffing, the disposable Voltorb, and... “ The Net Ball. “The first successful test subject of the Forced Evolution Initiative. Although… Given recent developments, I suppose a distinction should be made in the project." Ariana taps her chin, then waves it away. “Consider this the second project you've been assigned. Further research into its training and proper rearing - perhaps reproduction… Mass production…? Hohoho."

As Ariana picks up the belt, Lyra can notice some wiring along the inside; and subtle green lights. The administrator affixes the three Pokeballs to the belt beside the buckle, then offers it to Lyra. She doesn't give an order, but… Lyra understands what she's asking. Lyra feels the belt she was already wearing slide underneath her protruding gut, soon to be replaced - and from there, she clips the keycard and modified PokeGear to the side opposite the Pokeballs.

“As much as I'd love to supervise you, my duties lie elsewhere. While tempting to begrudge them… Responsibility is simply a fact of adult life. If you haven't learned as such already… Perhaps today will well and truly initiate you. You're due for your first official occupational responsibilities as a member of Team Rocket." Lyra looks up curiously. For as much as Ariana went on about duty and responsibility - she hadn't exactly made it clear what those were. In some morbid way, Lyra was a little curious. “This is just a temporary position, but…" She leans down, picking up a piece of paper and holding it up. Lyra tries to see what's on it…

But she has to squint to see it; much like the tags on the uniforms from before. It's… Directions. She thinks.

“Follow these directions," Phew - Lyra feels relieved. At least her eyes were still working… Even if she had to strain them a little more. She rubs them both as Ariana continues. “and relieve the current person on duty. They'll instruct you as to your duties, and you'll spend the next four hours working, followed by an hour long meal, and then four more hours of labor." Nine hours? Lyra sinks a little in her seat. She didn't even know what she'd be doing, but from the snippets she'd gotten from other grunts, she wasn't looking forward to it. “After which - you may report to me. Following that… You have the remainder of the day to do with as you wish. Adulthood affords a degree of freedom, you know."

She hands the note over to Lyra, who takes it sullenly in both hands. Ariana stands, and bids Lyra to do the same as they both move to the door. Ariana motions for Lyra to advance… And to open the door for her. Obediently, Lyra does so; prompting a sinister grin from the admin. “Remember - as part of our experiment, you're representing both of us. It's instrumental that you make us look good." she warns, setting off down one hall - and according to her instructions, Lyra was bound for the other.

She begins to walk away… But slows down as the sound of Ariana's heels finally fade out of earshot. The trainer balls one hand into a fist, and slams it against the wall. Her teeth grit - in frustration, and mild pain. What was wrong with her, she thinks. Ariana was just walking all over her; ordering her to do this and that - and she had the confidence to do so not just out of arrogance, but because Lyra knew full well she was setting a precedent with how easily she came to obey. If she wanted to deceive Team Rocket; if she wanted to escape, she'd have to engender that confidence… But it wasn't as much of an act as she wanted it to be. It wasn't like she was pretending to go along with all of this… She just was. She was too weak to resist; as a trainer and as a woman…

As a woman. She drops her hand to her side, shaking her head. She still wasn't used to thinking of herself like that; but both Ariana's insistence in doing so and there simple reality of the situation made it hard to think otherwise. She was more of a woman than some of these grunts - she thought bitterly. Young, delinquent, vivacious and… Amorous. Lyra's cheeks flush as she recalls the showers.

To take her mind off of it, she looks down at the instructions… Then down further as she has to bring her face closer to the page to make it out. She'd never had any troubles with her vision before - why now…? It seemed like objects several meters away were just fading into an anomalous blur, and things close to her were simply losing clarity. She finally and begrudgingly advances, following the directions until she came upon a wider hall; terminating in a pair of double doors. Before she even had a chance to open them, they were forced open as a grunt pushed a cart through; loaded with cardboard boxes.

Much like the others - a situation Lyra simply didn't want to grow accustomed to - the woman pushing the cart was younger than her. Younger than some of the other grunts; even. Her hair was a dark shade of teal, and she grunted as she pushed the cart forward. “Hey!" she calls, the cart slowing as she removes one hand - doing so simply to wave Lyra aside. “Outta tha way!"

Lyra hugs the side of the wall as the grunt passes by, eventually coming to a stop in the middle of the hall. She advances toward, Lyra, looking her over. Lyra stood an inch or two above the grunt - which truthfully made her feel a little self-conscious. Eventually, the grunt pokes Lyra's soft stomach, causing her to flinch.

“Looks like you're takin' over for me, tubby. 'Bout time." she grumbles, locking the cart's wheels and leaning against it. “Boss lady called ahead. Ten minutes ago. Shoulda been outta here ten minutes ago, but…" She rolls her eyes, tilting her head upward. “Anyway. You're doin' receivin' today. Gonna be a helluva workout, so maybe it'll do ya some good." Again, the grunt jabs Lyra's stomach, prompting her to brace her hands over it. Her brow furrows; and the look of frustration on her face makes the grunt chuckle. “Hey, you'll thank me later. Go on in," The grunt points to the double doors. “I'll be back in a few." As Lyra shuffles off to the doors, she can hear them murmur “A few too many…"

Stepping in through the doorway, Lyra can't help but balk. It's clearly some sort of warehouse, but… Not a particularly well-organized one. Cardboard boxes and metal crates litter the floor, alongside derelict machinery; some of which seems partially disassembled. There's a few racks in place along the walls suspending even more storage containers above ground level - but nothing above five feet. The lofted racks sit empty; dusty - evidently a result of a clear lack of machinery to access them. What isn't stored on the racks simply finds a home on the floor; creating a maze. Lyra almost trips over a stack of collapsed boxes as she takes her first step inward; only narrowly avoiding falling flat on her face.

True to her promise, the grunt returns a few minutes later; finding Lyra sitting on a crate. “Hey! That's sensitive equipment, get your fat ass off!" she shouts, prompting Lyra to jump up. A clear look of scorn on her face, she shoves a clipboard against Lyra's chest - it clatters to the ground before the startled trainer can react, prompting her to get on her knees to gather it - and the scattered papers - back up. “Ugh - what tha hell does tha boss lady see in you?" she whines.

When Lyra has clipped everything back into place, she looks up - apologetically and expectantly.

“I got other stuff ta do, so I'll keep this short. All a' these boxes got a code on 'em. Find tha boxes that're on that list, put 'em on a cart, check 'em off, and haul 'em to tha lift. Easy enough?" Lyra nods, and the grunt shakes her head. “We'll see. Try not ta break anythin' - it's your fat ass on the line if ya do." She turns on her heel and marches for the door; aggressively shoving it open, and leaving Lyra alone.

Alone, and biting her lip. Like the elevator guard, she wished she had the slightest ounce of her confidence. Moreover; she wished she had one person… Just one, that didn't talk down to her. Somebody who didn't see her as an experiment, or as new blood, or as… Lyra places a hand on her stomach. She hadn't had this weight - this body! - for more than a day, and already she was feeling self-conscious about it. For better or worse, she was starting to understand Team Rocket. Their loyalty wasn't difficult to earn… Theoretically. Clearly they were kept in line by fear; by strength… And Lyra hated that she wished to earn that; if only for a reason as superficial as expelling that omnipresent condescension.

Lyra stands up shakily, bracing one hand on her back. She tucks the instructions into the bottom of the clipboard, and… Begrudgingly, begins flipping through the list, trying to get to work.

It was as she began that she came to realize that the work she'd been tasked with wasn't particularly… Cerebral. She supposed that was fitting; given as dim-witted as some of these grunts seemed, but it didn't make it any more tolerable. She squinted at the sheet as she looked over the codes on them. They didn't have any particular order, but as she read them through, she began to pick up hints of a pattern. They all began with a single character - C, S, M, or… 5; then a space. After that, two numbers, and three digits following that; which she found no significance in. She started looking around the boxes on the racks - at least they were close to eye level, but she didn't find many.

With a plaintive whine, she lowered herself onto her knees, beginning to check through the boxes on the floor. She spent most of the first hour searching before she found one box; and at least figured out - roughly - where each of the different prefixed boxes were in the warehouse. After that, the search was minimal… But lifting promptly became the task at hand.

Lyra realized that even if she'd had quite a… Taxing run during her escape attempt, she hadn't gotten a good read on her new body's limits - fatigue and pain had been dulled by the adrenaline rush; followed immediately by unconsciousness. The only thing that lingered past her blackout was a bit of soreness in her joints - especially in her feet. All she could hope for, as she maneuvered an empty cart past a twisting walkway formed by scattered boxes, is that she could handle another three hours of the task.

… Followed promptly by another four, she reminds herself.

Finally, she locates her first box. It's unsealed - and as she pulls the cardboard flaps apart, she has an idea. If they were putting her by their supplies, maybe she could gather some of her own? Given, she didn't have a bag, but she could squirrel them away in this Rattata's nest of a warehouse, and retrieve them later. She opens the box…

And finds a handful of disassembled computer towers inside. Her hands tighten around the cardboard; near to crushing it before she stops herself. She didn't wonder where this temper of hers was coming from - all she'd suffered through made it rather clear to her. Justified, even. If nothing else, it was the one thing she could fault herself or feel bad for. Folding the flaps back into place, she lifts it up with a soft grunt, and places it on the cart. Lyra takes a deep breath afterward, patting off her gloves. There - that wasn't so hard.

The second box wasn't too far; and hey - that one was pretty easy. The third; piece of cake.

Lyra began to feel a little twinge in her back after the tenth. After the fifteenth, her arms felt a little tired - and even a momentary break she took to search around some more didn't alleviate the fatigue. All the back-and-forth around the warehouse, looking for boxes in their respective categories, was beginning to take its toll on her legs as well. How much time did she have left, now…?

Lyra checks her PokeGear. Two hours, forty-five minutes. Damn.

Things didn't get any easier from her from there. After the thirtieth box, Lyra removed her cap and wiped some sweat from her brow. Her fingers were sore; arms aching and back not faring much better. The cart itself was getting fuller, and she felt forced to push it back into the hall simply because she needed a break from referencing the list. It was becoming harder and harder to reference it - even being typed, she was having more and more trouble discerning the 5s and Ss. What would happen if she delivered the wrong thing? It was her fat ass on the line, after all.

Lyra winces as she pushes the cart through the doors - and not because of the physical pain. The grunt's stinging remark haunts her, lingering on as she continues to push the cart.

She can't tell if she overloaded the thing or not - it moves slowly and only with great force; requiring her to put her back into pushing it. Most of what it was carrying wasn't particularly heavy either; the only reason it particularly hurt for her to lift was simply the constant up-and-down repetition. Lyra is well aware that if she were… Normal… This kind of thing would be a breeze, but as she was, she had to strain to move it down the winding halls. She slowed down further every so often to reference a map of the facility she found among the papers on the clipboard - directing her to the elevator.

When she finally arrived, she expected to be greeted - but, no such luck. Was she supposed to bring it up further, herself? No - the teal-haired grunt from before was having just about as much trouble pushing her cart; and she came back much too quick to have gone up a floor. Unsure and unsupervised, Lyra leaves the cart wedged against the wall; out of the way and ready for… Whoever was supposed to pick it up. She grabs the clipboard off the top, making her way back to the warehouse. As she does, she can't help but lower her hands to her stomach, scratching around her underbelly… And, though her back protests, leaning down to scratch at her legs. She wasn't sure why - but for the past hour, she'd been feeling particularly itchy. She just hoped it wasn't any sort of chemical leak - those metal boxes looked sketchy to begin with - or a further.. Experiment Ariana was subjecting her to. She wouldn't put it past the old hag-

Lyra whines softly. She supposed it wasn't appropriate to think of Ariana that way - not out of any sort of respect, but… It wasn't like she was much younger than the Rocket admin. She softly scratches her stomach as she passes back into the warehouse.

There was still another cart left for her to fill - so she wasted no time in starting the next checklist. With the exceedingly simple nature of the task, Lyra had at first hoped she'd have ample time to think - to put her mind toward other pursuits; even toward formulating an exit plan. But, even for as easy as it was, the parsed-out instants where she needed to dedicate some modicum of focus to the task at hand made her thought process stilted. It was considerably easier for her to simply… Not bother focusing on anything else. She could tune out; just do the job and let the time tick by.

Of course, doing the job at hand still wasn't getting any easier. She began to take quick breaks between lifting boxes - to straighten out her back and try to give her arms a rest. Even doing that, she found herself breaking into a sweat; and if she cleaned herself off, more sweat came to take its place. It seeped into her uniform - which mercifully was too dark to show any particular stains, but her face was flushed and glistening. She was sweating like a Piloswine in a sauna.

Eventually, she finished a second list - and that at least meant she'd get to get out of the warehouse for a bit. Admittedly, she'd given up her plans for scrounging through boxes for supplies - nothing seemed useful; most of it was machinery, devices, or books she couldn't understand. If one of the boxes she was hauling had something useful - like Pokemon, potions, or something else… She wasn't aware, and didn't have the energy to look. Lyra pushed the loaded cart back to the elevator - and found an empty one waiting for her. For a moment, she was relieved she wouldn't have to do that work… But she supposed it was pretty pathetic that she was doing any work for Team Rocket to begin with. She pushed the empty cart back - much more easily, with as light as it was - but by the time she arrived back at the warehouse, her PokeGear began to ring. A call?

Lyra tips her hat up, wiping some sweat from her brow as she looks down at the device. The built-in clock was flashing - it was break time. Even if it was a little… Dull, she supposed her strategy for passing the time worked fairly well. Too tired to do much else, she drops the clipboard on the cart and shoves it in through the doors, wearily making her way to the break room… And scratching at herself as she goes.

The route to the room feels familiar. The path she takes reminds her of her frantic flight from Ariana - but what truly drives the recollection is the fact that the walls around her have begun to blur. She can hardly see where she's going; but she knows she's making the right turns. Eventually, the sight of a doorway - or what she believes to be one - leads her into the breakroom. Exhausted as she was already; the walk here was disproportionately draining. She squints as she looks around the room, and mercifully, none of the vague shapes before her stand out as an actual person. For the moment, she was… Alone.

Lyra finds a seat at the table - the same seat she'd taken during her escape, but as her sore legs found some rest, she found her situation considerably different - now, she had no inclination to leave. She turns in her seat, leaning against the table and supporting her head in her hands. She hadn't realized she'd been panting until now - and perhaps it was simply being cooled down by walking through the halls, but sitting still made it clear how hot she was. Her body felt radiantly warm against her tight uniform; to say nothing of the moistness she felt gathering around her - beneath her arms, behind her belt, between her breasts… Even around her gut. Just because that was those were the densest concentrations of sweat didn't mean they were the only ones, however - her hands in her gloves and feet in her boots were uncomfortably sweaty; and her entire body felt sticky - much too much for this dry, climate-controlled coolness.

Furthermore, sitting still made it clear that the sweat wasn't just causing discomfort - it was giving rise to a… Noticeable scent. One that made Lyra's head sink lower in her hands.

Before she could dwell too much upon it, her gut lurched - giving off a soft; low growl. Lyra perked up - she realized she hadn't eaten anything… For the whole day. Maybe that's why she felt so exhausted? She made out the shapes of vending machines against the walls, and moved over to them. Mercifully, the slot to insert bills and coins seemed to be replaced with a black panel and welded shut - at least the food was free.

More likely it was stolen; but Lyra tried very hard not to think about that as she tried to read the selection.

The trainer's forehead was nearly butting up against the machine before she managed to make out the images on the machine. It seemed to be a model she'd seen in Goldenrod before - holding hot food; while the machine next to it was for drinks. She ran a hand across the machine until she found the right button for a hot dog, then repeated the same process for a lemonade on the machine opposite. The latter came instantly, and when she looked up from retrieving the canned drink, she caught a glimpse of somebody entering.

She couldn't make out too much about them; but they definitely weren't a grunt. They wore a white coat, and… Glasses? A scientist, probably. They found a seat on the far end of the room, seeming to take a break from whatever they were working on. Lyra jumps as she hears a sharp ding! from behind her; and the soft sound of a plastic panel receding as her meal is presented.

Retreating to the table, Lyra started to eat. The food was… Serviceable. Dry, a little flavorless - but it was food. She couldn't help but wonder if this was the extent of their availability - but she supposed, if she wasn't too exhausted, she could take her time to look around after she was 'free' for the evening. Maybe even look for an escape route, or… No, no. She was much too tired to do something as arduous as that. Lyra's primary aspiration for the day was simply to return to the dorms, take a nice, warm shower, and rest up. She could worry about escape tomorrow.

Lyra closed her eyes and took a sip of her lemonade. When the sound of a sharp click reaches her ears, she nearly spits it out. Looking to the doorway, she can hear the familiar sound of Ariana's heels, and despite her greatest hopes, the red-haired woman veers from her path into the break room. Even unable to make out the breadth of her features, Lyra can tell that she's got a smug look on her face.

“Now, there's my new favorite colleague." she coos sinisterly, walking forward - but stopping just out of Lyra's current range of clarity. “How're we enjoying our first day of real work?" She crosses arms, awaiting a response, but before she receives one, Lyra can make out the admin tilting her head. “What're you doing there…?" she muses, leaning forward.

Lyra immediately leans back - but Ariana presses forward.

“Were you squinting?" Lyra nods. “Why? Is-... Are... “ She retreats, shaking her head. “How many fingers am I holding up?" She raises a hand - and Lyra leans forward and squints to make it out, but the grumbling executive pulls it away faster than she can manage. “Hmph. That tells me enough. Interesting…" Ariana raises a hand to her chin, crooking a finger pensively and looking away…

Then, she perks up.

“You." she begins, pointing to the scientist. “Give me those."

“E-eh?" he grunts, tilting his head. “What-"

“Your glasses. Give them to me." The man reaches up and takes them off - fumbling and nearly dropping them to the ground with as much as he's jittering. Ariana moves forward, grabbing the glasses in one hand, and the scientist's collar in the other. He squeals at first - but as Ariana brings the glasses closer, it's clear that she's just using his clothes to clean them off.

She releases him with a harsh shove and moves back over to Lyra - before she can muster a protest, she plants the glasses on her face - and Lyra flinches back as she clearly sees Ariana's quizzical face staring at her, less than a foot away.

“Better?" she muses, stepping away. Lyra is prepared to nod, and manages to swing her head downward before she's hit with a wave of dizziness. Bracing her hand against her temple to keep the glasses steady, she looks back up. While she can definitely see clearer… Perhaps it's too clear. Obviously this man had a much different prescription than how her eyes were devolving, so it made everything look… Odd; but at least she could see a little better.

Looking up to Ariana, she's not sure if that's a good thing.

“Wonderful." she begins, puffing out her chest. “If it's not a perfect fit, then… I'm sure you'll get used to it. If any unforeseen developments arise, do contact me." Lyra can see the panicked scientist scrambling out of the room; bumping clumsily against the doorframe as he makes his exit. Ariana seems to pay it no mind. She looks up and away from Lyra - who follows her gaze to a clock. “Damn. I have to get back to the upper level." She takes a step away, then raises a finger. “And if you see that scientist again, make sure to discipline him in my stead. I'm unsure what project he's working on, but he brought a foul stench into the break room with him."

With that, Ariana briskly departs - and once more, Lyra is alone.

Alone, sweaty, exhausted, and wearing unfamiliar glasses; for the first time in her life. The realization of it all is… Demoralizing, as she stares down at the crumpled remains of plastic from her meal was delivered, and the half-empty can of lemonade. She feels that temper rising back up in her, and she balls her hand into a fist, but… She's too tired to bring it down; so she lets gravity bring it limply down to her side. She leans against the table, weakly raising a hand to poke beneath her gut and her belt, scratching that resurgent itch.

Her PokeGear beeps - reminding her that she only has a half hour left until she's got to get back to work. The only hope Lyra has, if purely momentary, is for it to end quickly.

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.

Dull.

That was the best way Lyra could describe her week.

The life of a Pokemon trainer, she recalled, was one of unbridled freedom and adventure. A new discovery around every corner. They lived life on the open road, free and easy, with nobody to tell them what to do or how to do it. It was exciting. It was free…

As much as it hurt for her to accept it; it wasn't her life anymore. She'd done several jobs over the week - sorting the warehouse and guarding the elevator was just the start. She acted as a lab assistant, where she was ostracized by the scientist whose glasses Ariana… Repurposed as her own. She sorted Ariana's files - during which she had some time to study them. Experiments, plans in progress… All of which she resolved were useless to try and sabotage. Not because they wouldn't stop a crime in progress, or a major discovery - in fact, she had the power, even in her meager position, to throw a major wrench in Rocket's plans - but because none of it would help her out of her position.

Eventually she was trusted enough to access the upper floors. She guarded the generator one day; during which she was paired with the grunt that tried to steal her Voltorb. Her Voltorb - she'd kept an eye on it possessively during her shift. She didn't care how she got it; she wasn't going to let it go. The next day, she spent hours on her knees resetting the trapped floor of the hideout - that didn't do her sore joints any favors. The day after wasn't much better - she had to work on the security statues instead; which involved considerably more up-and-down.

Even if each day had its own… Trials, it all seemed to fade into the same routine. Her alarm would wake her up; and she'd wake up sore and tired - even if she was getting used to the other grunts'... Nocturnal activities, they still bothered her. Moreover - she felt she shouldn't have to get used to them. Following that, she'd shower; trying to work off the pain and fatigue of the past day, to varying degrees of success - depending largely on if anyone was sharing a stall nearby.

After that, she'd meet with another grunt that would explain her duties for the day, and she'd report to her workplace. She'd spend the first hour figuring out the unspoken demands that were a part of her job, and she'd spend the next three working - and at the same time, suffering some means of indignity. It stoked her simmering temper, but she'd been spared another outburst… Though she could swear she'd begun to notice more errant, faded hair every time she looked in the mirror.

Her breaks were a dissatisfying reprieve; seldom offering her enough time to truly rest - rather, enough time for her body to get used to being idle, and appropriately feel even more sore; even cramping when she rose to get back to work. Mercifully, the latter half of her duties had never been as bad as her day in the warehouse. She wasn't utterly exhausted at the end of her workday - rather, she was hungry, sore, and listless. The foremost was easily resolved. Her soreness; made manageable with a shower. The latter, however, was a frustrating constant.

Her only… Working acquaintance, the pink-haired grunt, was often working when Lyra had free time. There was a part of her that hoped the other grunts might want to get along with her, but… Each had their reasons not to. Some disdain her purely based on her appearance… On her weight, or age. Others recognized her from getting pushed around in the dorms. Others shied away because of Ariana - because of a presumed relation, or because of the admin kept an eye on her. She learned quickly that Ariana wasn't exactly… Personable, among the lower ranks of the team… But they respected her authority.

Even if Lyra knew few of the grunts liked her… None of them said so. Not anymore.

Another grunt had been trying to shove her around at the end of the week; at the end of a long day guarding the generator; and being the butt of every cruel joke among the grunts. She'd been on her way to get cleaned up - and the belligerent grunt had a few comments about her age. It wasn't much of a sore subject anymore - but it was something she'd wished to turn into a degree of authority. She challenged him to a battle. The poor bastard only had a Rattata. Lyra had a Voltorb; and her Voltorb knew Self Destruct.

Perhaps her little display worked a little… Too well. In the process of avoiding a tackle, her Voltorb had rolled closer to the grunt - and after it detonated, it sent the ash-covered grunt to the medbay. Since then, she hadn't heard any crude comments; though she knew plenty swirled about her, albeit unspoken.

Today, as she changed into her uniform, she felt disdainful gazes burning against her back. Those of disgust, resentment, fear… At least one of those was mutual. Yet - she didn't feel anything else odd as she slid on the tight, plus-sized garments. Spending a week in… Well, her own body had acclimated her to it - to its shape, its texture, its new center of gravity. Were it not for the omnipresent soreness, she'd nearly be unaware of even the most glaring of differences.

She adjusts her glasses as she looks into the mirror, looking up to her hair with a sour look on her face. Her hair wasn't as vibrant as it'd been originally - or… She purses her lips. How it'd been when she'd first changed. It wasn't just that the mental image of the bright-eyed trainer she'd once been had faded into a nebulous memory; but these further changes had begun to cement her body as of a week ago as her reflexive reference for the proverbial 'before' to her current 'after'.

More than one streak of desaturated; paling red was present upon her head. Running a hand over her soft stomach, she knew that it, too, was getting slightly lighter beneath her clothes, even if it was still just as dense as she'd grown accustomed. The thought of grooming herself came to mind - quite often, in fact - but every time she mulled it over, she came to the same realizations. She was usually too tired to find the supplies, wherever they were, not to mention to do the work in the first place. Furthermore - any effort she put into styling her hair would be undone by her work for the day - but the last straw was a simple question of: why bother?

Dolling herself up would be a chore for her - so she'd just be doing it for others; but who did she have around that she needed to look nicer for? She'd given up trying to appeal to the grunts; and it wasn't like she could leave. It was all too much hassle for no reward.

Lyra reaches for her hat - the last piece of her ensemble - when she hears a sound; a distant one, piercing through the din of conversation filling the barracks. It's a soft clicking - one that draws her gaze to the entrance. All around her, she can hear the grunts either go silent or hiss at each-other to do so. The eyes once staring disdainfully at her finally break off - staring at the doorway…

Through which steps Ariana. Uncharacteristically - and to most of the grunts, concerningly - she's smiling. Lyra recognizes it; it's the same confident grin she gives when things are going according to plan. That seldom meant good things for her. She looks down, biting her lower lip. She couldn't remember the last time she had a reason to smile like that. Ariana stepped inward; heels going silent as they cross the carpeted floor. Though it's clear by her haste that she's here for Lyra - that doesn't stop her from leaving cutting comments for the grunts she passes; wasting no time to linger.

“You were supposed to report for guard duty ten minutes ago. Further tardiness won't be tolerated."

“We received your complaint about the scientists cheating when they play cards. If you won't do what it takes to win, you shouldn't play."

“If you 'lose' one more box of supplies, I'm transferring you to the Lake of Rage. Permanently."

Though with varying degrees of fear and resentment, the grunts she passes leap into motion - off their bunks and away from walls they'd been leaning against - making a break for the door. Even those she didn't charge with any offenses seem… Inspired by their companions, and either leave or attempt to seem busier before the admin reaches them.

The sight makes Lyra snicker. Maybe it was a little sadistic - but seeing them so intimidated was a treat she wished she got to see more often. The admins seemed to do that to them; but they all seemed… Much too consumed by their work in the past week to crack down on grunts. While it was a little conflicting to Lyra, she almost… Missed Ariana. She was tempted to respond in kind when the admin offered an elated greeting.

“How lovely to see you again." For as excited as she seemed - Lyra could tell there was something sinister lurking in her words. “I almost didn't recognize you - I'm just lucky you stand out so much in such a..." She looks over her shoulder, causing a grunt in her field of vision to jump. “Lesser crowd."

Lyra didn't know if that was supposed to be a compliment for her - but she knew full well that it was a jab at the others; and that was enough to make her happy. She looks down at her PokeGear - and that happiness shifts violently to surprise. She knew she'd slept a little late; but she was hoping she'd have more time to get ready. Her shift began in five minutes.

Ariana seems to register the surprise on her face, and reaches for the PokeGear, taking a hold of it. “My my - running late?" she muses - with considerably less venom than she spat at the other late grunt. The admin snickers. “Never you worry. You weren't assigned today." Lyra's brow quirks. Even if she'd only been here a week - a day off seemed… Strange. “With as long as you've been serving us - I felt that today would be an excellent opportunity to have a… Performance summary."

Ah, Lyra thinks. That had to be why. While the thought of being judged for her performance made her heartbeat hasten, the thought of spending time with Ariana was… Mildly more preferable than spending another day surrounded by people that hated her. Maybe it was going to be a day off, after all? She nods affirmingly, taking the PokeGear back.

Ariana turns, waving her along. Lyra lingers by her locker, reaching in for her hat-

“Leave it. You won't be needing it much longer."

Her fingers curl and drop away from the cap, making her furrow her brow. What was that supposed to mean…? Looking back to the admin; she's already making her way out - wasting no time in waiting for Lyra to follow. She slams her locker and sprints to close the distance between them, following eagerly in her stead.

As they make it out into the hallway, Ariana leads the way back toward her office - by now, Lyra could remember the path. Whereas the facility once seemed impossibly labyrinthine, she knew it like she knew the back of her hand. Given how much her body has changed - it wouldn't be a stretch to say she knew the facility even better than that.

“It's been a long week." the admin begins, looking over her shoulder. “Our plans are progressing... “She clicks her tongue. “Hastily, so that has encompassed my time. From what I saw of your schedule, I'm sure you were kept rather busy." Lyra nods in affirmation. “With as much as we've been up to… It feels like ages ago that we weren't working together."

Lyra scratches the back of her head. 'Together' was a strong word. She vividly recalled Ariana's words, the last time they met - she spoke a big game about how they were both involved in the experiment that made her; but even when she was working as a lab assistant, she didn't feel involved at all. Factoring in how distant she'd been; Lyra felt like she was working for Ariana more than with her. It was hard for her to tell whether or not that was deliberate.

Ariana turns her attention back to the hall before her, letting her words linger. Finally, they arrive at her office. She opens the door and motions for Lyra to enter first. “I'd say 'age before beauty', but… We have both on our side, don't we?" Lyra enters meekly.

The office wasn't as Lyra had left it when she'd been charged with organizing the admin's files. Whatever work she'd done had promptly been undone - as folders now littered Ariana's desk. A printer sat on a shelf along the wall; a dense stack of printouts sitting in its tray. One of the two chairs on Lyra's side of the desk was occupied by one of the boxes from the warehouse. Opposite the unoccupied chair, sitting on the desk, was an ashtray that has clearly seen plenty of use.

Ariana offers a curt “Sit." as she moves over to the printer, flipping through the papers beneath it. Lyra does so promptly - inching her chair away from the desk a little; and the ashtray upon it. “Well - let's not waste any time." She moves over to her own seat, wearing a grin oversaturated with self-satisfaction.

Again - Lyra can't help but feel envious. Nothing she'd done here was worth any semblance of satisfaction; even the feeling of ending a shift was nothing short of hollow. Her only reward was rest - rest and solitude. It was hard not to want more; if not just for the work, then for the pain it brought her. Yet, for as much as she wanted something more - she knew she didn't deserve it. The work itself was as simple as simple got; jobs that they could charge anyone with - anyone from thuggish brats to women like her.

She'd already begun to sulk by the time Ariana began to speak. “Truthfully," she begins. “I had little hope for the girl we captured, so long ago. As idealistic as she was pathetic. What I'd prepared for her was… An experiment - so it did innately have a chance to fail - but the quality of the… Material was questionable at best." She chuckles. “Of course, she didn't survive the experiment. You did."

Lyra cocks her brow.

“As soon as the experiment was over; you weren't some brat anymore. The thought that you were - an illusion; and even if you were initially deceived, I knew you were smart enough to see past it. You did so even quicker than I'd anticipated." She pulls a piece of paper from the stack and slides it over to Lyra - over a few other miscellaneous papers. It shows a camera feed of her in the warehouse - organizing boxes. “You were told to work - and so you did. You never questioned the purpose, or rebelled against your duties. You performed them to the best of your abilities; lacking all but the most simple instructions. Before, you'd never really worked a day in your life." Ariana looks forward. “But doesn't it feel like you've worked a lifetime?"

Lyra's eyes linger on the picture before placing it back on the table. She… Really hadn't questioned anything, had she? Sure, she told herself that it was only an act at first, but…

“It was all… Preparatory. You were never destined for grunt work - I'd never let you go down that path." she explains. “But you needed the lessons. And I needed data." She plucks another sheet of paper - this one bearing a number of graphs; some rising, some falling. “Sensors in your belt have been monitoring your condition - and there's little environment more ideal to study a subject such as yourself than in the wild. Has it been for the better…?" Ariana shrugs. “No. But for the sake of the experiment, the data you've provided has been invaluable. On the job - the experience you've accrued has been instrumental," She drops the stack of paper to her desk with a soft clap. “because it's time to move to our next phase."

Lyra couldn't tell if Ariana's words were making her anxious - or if the admin's apparent excitement was infectious. Her heart was pounding in her chest; even intimidated as she was, Lyra was on the edge of her seat.

Ariana leans on her desk, steepling her hands. “I think you're qualified for a promotion."

Promotion. Promotion to what? As far as she'd gathered, the grunts didn't have any internal hierarchy - at least, not a formal one. They simply pushed each-other around; and the strongest one called the shots. Maybe to a scientist? No - she knew full well she wasn't qualified for that sort of work. She didn't even feel qualified to have a promotion in the first place, but… But…

Lyra couldn't lie - the idea of getting it was exciting. She'd been forced into this line of work, given utter drudgery to slave through, and given no respect from anyone, and no reward for service - until now. Her mind raced - getting a promotion would get her respect. Ariana got plenty, at least. More respect meant less jeers from the other grunts - maybe she'd even get away from them? No more moans in the middle of the night, no more up-and-down with boxes or tools.

Lyra's eyes were on the desk before her - she jerks up as she realized that she'd zoned out, mulling over the possibilities.

“The way you look - you seem excited." Lyra nods - a faint smile curling across her lips. “I really hoped you would be. Now, " She thumbs through the papers again one Lyra's way. “I want this just as much as you do… But I'd be doing myself, and Team Rocket, a disservice if you weren't truly ready. I have numbers, and I have enough information to have a hypothesis… But I need you to give me something solid."

Lyra's heart sank. What did the admin need? The possibilities a promotion could bring were swirling in her head; rising higher and growing grander with every moment that passed. She clutches the paper with one hand, adjusting her glasses with the other.

“You've spent the past week doing grunt work. Now - truthfully, it doesn't matter what we have the rank-and-file take care of; but there's a difference between necessary drudgery and inefficiency. Given your… State, I'm sure it would have been necessary to… Optimize your tasks to offer as little strain as possible - failing that, I'm sure you would have wanted for something to streamline the task. All I need from you is… A plan."

Lyra tilted her head. The paper before her was some… Operational form. It had sections for her to describe a task at hand, resources necessary, a timeframe - it was rather comprehensive. She recognized it from sorting Ariana's files - the admin herself used them to devise major operations and experiments. Lyra looked up, and Ariana looked down to her clinically.

“Describe what you want done, and how to get it. It's the simplest task of an administrator - and something you'll have to do quite often."

Administrator. She was going to be in charge on that level; Ariana's level. She wouldn't be working for her - she really would be working with her. Lyra upturned a few sheets of paper on the desk to grab at a pen, beginning to write. Her handwriting was chicken scratch - out of haste, and frankly out of practice. She didn't feel like she was committing thoughts to paper - rather, raw emotion. Her pen was a catalyst to coalesce a week of frustration and bitterness - scrawled out in ink. When she was through, she shoved it over to Ariana - the feverish writing left her wheezing in her seat.

Even the admin seemed impressed as she took a hold of the sheet. “Let's see… Dormitory surveillance… Enforced disciplinary action… Discouragement of fraternization? How very… Authoritarian." She chuckles - even a little nervously. “Ah - efficient use of warehouse space." She pauses, making her way through what Lyra knew to be a densely-packed paragraph outlining organizational techniques - as Ariana said, streamlining. Eventually, Ariana passed it back to her. “Mmh. While I do agree that we can utilize the higher shelves for storage… I'm sure you're well aware, we lack the proper equipment." She smirks as she explains. “Suggestions are a start, but without a way to put them into action..." Lyra uses the pen to tap at the paper, drawing Ariana's eyes lower. The administrator perks up. “Acquire equipment… Goldenrod Department store?"

Her smile widens as she reads - a mall like that had to have some proper equipment, and it had easy access from the Underground. If that's what they needed, Lyra thought - that's how they could get it. Ariana pulls the paper back, chuckling darkly.

“My my - how diabolical."

Somehow, Lyra took that as a compliment. However Ariana meant it - it sounded like she had her promotion in hand - and to her, that's all that mattered.

Ariana stands and drops Lyra's plan in a wire basket, beckoning to her. “I was always hoping for this outcome - but given what you've provided, I have everything I need to convince my peers," She looks down to Lyra. “the other administrators, of course. We don't need to convince the grunts of anything - to them, you are what we say you are."

Lyra stands up, following Ariana to the door.

“So - until I have an opportunity to address the matter with them… It would be prudent to undergo something of an… Orientation." Ariana leads her back out into the hall - down another winding path. While Lyra had been this way before - it was only ever in transit. She'd never had any duties within any of the rooms she passed - so as Ariana reached for the handle of one of the doors, Lyra couldn't help but peer over her shoulder to see what was inside.

The first thing she noticed was a carpet - soft and black, extending through the room. Ariana moved inward, and Lyra followed. Directly opposite the doorway was a simple bed, next to which was a metal table. Along one wall was a waist-high bookshelf; largely packed with books and binders… But the top of it seemed to act as a makeshift liquor cabinet. Bottles of all shapes and sizes sat on it; next to several upturned glasses. The opposite wall held two doors; one ajar - giving off a sliver of light - and the other closed. Lyra looked back to the admin - well… She supposed she was her fellow admin, now.

“What's with that look?" she muses, crossing her arms. “Did you think we slept with the grunts? With each-other?" she asks; unable to hide a hint of revilement. “These are my quarters. You'll soon have one of your own - but it will be some time before it has all of the necessary… Amenities." She gestures to the open door. “Specifically, for your uniform. The last thing I'd want is for a woman of power to be galavanting around looking like the rank-and-file."

Taking her cue, Lyra tentatively moves over to the door - pushing it open. She's greeted by a subtle; musty scent as she steps in, finding herself in a closet. It's surprisingly spacious and deep - along the walls hang a number of outfits; most were copies of Ariana's outfit, but as she thumbed through them, Lyra could see a Much… Slimmer grunt outfit, and even a reddish suit. On the far end of the closet was a drawer - pulling one open tentatively, she found herself looking through the admin's unmentionables.

When Lyra hears the door click shut behind her, she shoves the drawer closed and whips around.

Ariana stands with her arms folded, and a snide smile on her lips. “You know," she begins. “you can't very well get dressed without getting undressed."

Lyra looked down. With the promise of having her own room - she had hoped for some degree of privacy. Slowly, she turns around, leaning down - with a reflexive grunt - to remove her boots, gloves, and belt. Just as when she'd been getting dressed this morning, she felt eyes burning on her back - but this time, she could tell she wasn't earning a look of disdain. This time - she couldn't tell what kind of look Ariana was giving her. Appraisal? Calculation? Interest…? A weak sigh escaped her lips as she stands up again, reaching up to remove her top-

Only to find hands on her shoulders, pulling her top up for her. “Allow me." Ariana speaks so closely that Lyra could feel her breath tickling across the back of her neck. Once it's off, Ariana discards the top without a second thought.

Before Lyra has a chance to start working on her skirt, Ariana's hands move downward. The sensation of them running across her shoulders and down the flabby folds of her sides is enough to paralyze her - and to feel the admin's fingers run through the thicket of hair on her stomach; working their way around its curvature to unclasp the skirt… It was enough to evoke a dull groan from her.

“The data I received was fascinating." she begins, tittering. “But to see it first-hand is an experience in and of itself." Lyra's skirt drops to the ground, and Ariana's hands clasp together and come to rest over Lyra's navel. She can feel the other woman's body pressing against her back; feeling Ariana begin to breathe deeper and heavier, as she began to do the same. “You'll be making a lot of plans like the one you made today. If seeing the fruits of your efforts are even half as rewarding for you as they are for me… I'm sure you'll love your new job."

Lyra is prepared to respond - but she feels Ariana's hands release her, and the admin steps away. The red-haired woman runs a hand across several hanging skirts; slowly coming to a stop. She pulls it off the hanger and offers it to Lyra. Looking it over, she can tell that it's the same style as Ariana's - given that it was the admin's first choice, she could already tell what to expect from the rest of the selection.

Ariana continued to search through the closet as Lyra put on the skirt - once it was on, she donned her belt again. It was surprising that it fit so well - unless the admin had the foresight to have one tailored to her size. Or… Had one tailored in case she got a little heavier? Lyra looked away, snickering at the thought.

“Hey," Ariana chides. “dressing professionally is no laughing matter." She brings over a pair of boots - again, just like hers. Truthfully, Lyra was hoping for something different here - first because the skirt and boots left a… Sizable portion of her legs uncovered, but because they had heels. She didn't want to have to bother shaving or learning how to walk in heeled boots.

She bit her lip as she slid her foot into one of them - trying to find a positive. She recalled the reaction of the grunts this morning when they heard Ariana coming. Engendering that kind of respect… No - that kind of fear was oddly tantalizing. If they were Ariana's boots, too - maybe people would mistake her for the admin they already knew to fear? That alone was enough to inspire her to put the other boot on; teetering a little before steadying herself.

Ariana approaches her with two garments in hand - the first, a jacket like hers. The other - a sweater. Lyra took the sweater first; running a hand over the long neck. If nothing else; she figured this was supposed to go under the jacket. Lyra removed her glasses for just a moment as she donned the sweater - as soon as her head exited the turtleneck, she found the world around her to be an indistinct blur, rectified when she finally puts her glasses back on. Reaching down, she smooths out the fabric of the sweater; dense, warm, and…

Highlighting her protruding stomach. The thickness of it seemed only to make her look heavier. Even then, it seemed to be a poorer fit than the skirt had been. She tucks it beneath her belt; not wanting her… Excess to force it off of her. It was a hollow realization that she no longer felt resentful of her weight - accepting it in the most passive of terms. She looked down at herself - and even if the ensemble was strange, she felt… Good wearing it.

“One last piece." Ariana chimed. Lyra took the jacket from her, sliding her arms in first - and it was then that she began to have doubts about it. It clung tightly to her arms; and as she began to pull it closed, it began to strain against her stomach. Even trying to suck her gut in left a solid inch between either side of the jacket - and evoked dangerous groans from the garment; the likes of which she hadn't heard since she was bursting out of her disguise. The memory was anything but nostalgic.

Releasing the jacket, Lyra huffed, wiping some sweat from her brow - the meager exertion having brought her to such a point. Ariana clicks her tongue, pulling it off and sticking it back on the hanger.

“Well... Frankly, I think you look better without it." The weary look on Lyra's face fades quickly; replaced by a smile. Ariana turns her attention to the door - and upon it, a mirror.

With Ariana positioned behind her; hands on her shoulders, Lyra could see herself clearly. Even for her inexperience, she stood firmly and proudly in the heeled boots; the cut of her skirt displaying a hint of her legs; the skin pale and dusted with red hair. Her belt was once more eclipsed by the rotundity of her stomach; now covered by a thick, black sweater. Upon the breast was a white patch, proudly bearing a vibrant red R - a shade now more akin to Ariana's hair than her own. Though the style remained familiar - streaks of grey had grown prevalent upon Lyra's locks. The glare of the closet's light glinted off her glasses; rendering the lenses white and her tired eyes hidden behind them. Though she wore a smile; and though she felt jubilation and pride in equal amounts as she admired herself, the smile her reflection wore offered her only a chill.

“Look at yourself. I think we both know how the grunts react to me… So how do you envision them treating my older sister?" Ariana teases; chuckling - and despite herself, Lyra finds herself joining in. “Ah - and that reminds me… We'll need to do something for your… Formal introduction." By her tone, Ariana already seemed to have something in mind, but Lyra raised a hand to cut her off.

She had a plan.

The Lake of Rage was as violent as ever. The waters were churning dangerously, and ominous clouds circled above. Despite this - the lake grounds were as quiet as ever. Within the past week, Team Rocket had successfully muscled in on the territory - guards stationed at the gate between it and Mahogany Town, and grunts hassling the local fishermen and hermits out of the area. It had since become something of a staging ground - and today, a gathering place.

Grunts stood impatiently near the entrance to the lake - some anxious; most bored. Since the administrators started cracking down on their 'conduct', few of them had the opportunity to blow off steam in the past week. Today - they were called to the lake, but none of them knew why… Not that it mattered. Now more than ever, it'd become clear not to disobey them.

The reason quickly became apparent as Ariana stepped out of the house-turned-base of operations - she held a clipboard; eyes flitting between it and the crowd as she makes notations.

“Members of Team Rocket!" she bellows as she finally stops before the crowd; standing before the edge of the lake. Her voice carries even over the raging tides. “Today is a momentous occasion. In the years since our boss has enacted his… Long-term revival plan, we as administrators have worked long and hard in our endeavors to return Team Rocket to its former glory. While we have been largely deprived of suitable… Materials…" She glares at the crowd. “We now have a means of making greater use of them. You've surely noticed recent alterations in policy; recent acquisitions of equipment…" she trails off. “All of which have been devised by the newest addition to our great and glorious team's administration."

The door to the cabin opens again - and out steps a woman clutching a Net Ball. To most in the crowd, they recognize her as the… Oversized grunt that looked a little like Ariana. To those that joined since - the resemblance was enough to unnerve them. Murmurs began to circulate through the crowd as she stands beside the other administrator.

“May I present to you - Athena. Executive coordinator of the Mahogany Headquarters, and soon to be head of the Celadon Revival Project."

The murmurs grow louder as skepticism circulates. Athena - she looked like Ariana if she was over-the-hill. If she let herself go. She stood hunched; hands clawing the Pokeball with visible discomfort. It looked like she hated being outside to begin with. Even then - she was the one that made the admins crack down? To those that recognized her, it was baffling to see her working her way up the ladder, while they were still stuck where they were.

“You may have some concerns," Ariana began. “but I'll allow Athena to dispel them." She motions to her fellow administrator, who lobs the Net Ball toward the lake. As though orchestrated - the brilliant beam of light strikes the water in time with a far-off flash of lightning; briefly turning the sky white. The ball is quickly recalled, landing in the moist earth at Athena's feet.

Thunder rumbles as the waters churn further, the sounds building until the thunder gives a reverberating crack. The water's surface breaks, and from it comes a wild roar. Grunts flinch or tumble backwards as a Gyarados snakes up from the water; hovering dangerously behind Athena. Its scales were a vibrant shade of crimson - and streams of water cascaded off of it. Its normally-fearsome visage was twisted in a snarl as it bore down upon the grunts. In its shadow stood Athena, reaching down to pick up its Pokeball.

“I would hope that's sufficient?" Ariana muses. With the grunts still frozen in stunned silence, she barks “Is it!?"

The crowd leaps into motion - a confused and discordant “Yes ma'am!" rising from it.

“Good." she calls, beaming over to Athena. “You may all return to your duties - our plans are moving quickly. We'll make sure you have plenty to do in these coming months."

Athena recalls her Gyarados; the ball visibly shuddering in her grip. Before her - the crowd disperses; and behind her, lightning flashes again.

Ariana steps forward, draping her arms over her shoulders. “What a lovely display. I was surprised when you suggested such a venue, but I had confidence you could handle it." Lyra- Athena nods in affirmation. Thunder begins to rumble around them, and they move back toward the entrance of the forest. “Let's head back to headquarters. It isn't just them that'll be busy, you know."

She did - but… She was ready for it. The week of grunt work was the perfect eye-opener for what the team lacked. The time she'd spent planning these jobs - refining many of Ariana's own - had been a delight. Truthfully - she didn't much care about Rocket's goals; or their success - but with every notch on her proverbial belt, it elevated her. Now that she was an admin - she had power. She had money from the crimes she orchestrated. She had the fear of her subordinates and the respect of her peers. Moreover - she had responsibilities, and she met them; so she was rewarded for it.

Such was the nature of adulthood. It was Ariana that opened her eyes to that - and as thunder boomed across the sky, and a cold smile curled across her lips, she couldn't be happier.