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Over the next several days, Lavender recovered from her initial electrocution, quickly learning that the warden wasn't needed to administer punishment. She attempted to use her telekinesis to break open the bars, and was met with another electrical shock for her troubles. Sufficiently dissuaded from trying again, she began exploring her confined quarters. Her cage came equipped with a pair of buckets, one filled with lukewarm water and the other empty for obvious reasons. Despite her visual impairment, she quickly learned to differentiate between the two as early on, a late night transposition left her in a convenient position to vomit. Beyond these two minor semblances of furniture and a single fluorescent light overhead, the kennel lay barren without the slightest comfort to be found. The walls and ceiling all featured multiple pitons connected to metal cuffs, adding to the torturous vibe exuded by her prison. With little else to do, she spent hours on end pressed against the wall, whispering around the corner in short conversations with her sister until interrupted by a human visitor.

The staff, of course, consisted of more than just a single sadist, and Lavender grew accustomed to their various presences as well. Her buckets were cleaned and replaced every other day by a pair of low-level custodial staff dressed in khaki uniforms. The male of the team would travel out of sight to empty and wash the buckets, while female counterpart would remain in the kennel, watching over the Espeon so she wouldn't need to be restrained. Though she hardly interacted with him, Lavender vastly preferred the male; he was in and out of her cage in minutes and she enjoyed his efficiency. His partner, however, feigned sympathy for the Espeon's situation, offering condolences before humiliating Lavender by forcibly washing up under her tail and between her thighs with a damp rag, finishing the process with a sickeningly cheerful smile.

Two different guards brought her meals, the first in the morning and at noon, and the second in the evening. The menu remained stagnant throughout the day, however, with a bowl of unidentifiable ground meat served alongside several leaves of unseasoned lettuce. With no other options, Lavender stomached the food, but she hardly considered it appetizing after having the second portion foisted upon her. Still, the routine served its purpose of keeping the Espeon grounded in a schedule. Though she had no idea how long she had been unconscious to start her ordeal, at the very least she knew a week's worth of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners passed by as she remained caged.

Rounding out the staff population, at the end of that first week, a doctor visited the kennels. Accompanied by the warden, he traveled with a leather briefcase and a metal folding chair, popping into the cells one-by-one and giving each occupant a thorough examination. He entered Lavender's cage and unfolded his chair, setting the briefcase down atop it while the warden secured the gate behind him. Clicking open the fasteners on his briefcase, he popped it open and produced a pair of rubber gloves, which he efficiently drew over his hands, snapping the latex against his wrists. Following the gloves, he rested a stethoscope around his neck and raised a clipboard chest-level, flipping through several pages before focusing his attention on Lavender.

“Lavender Evans, yes?"

The Espeon balled herself up, her back pressed against the far wall and knees hugged into her chest. She raised her chin up to shoot the doctor a dirty look before returning her gaze to the floor and ignoring the man completely. The warden clanged his baton harshly against the bars and cleared his throat. When Lavender looked over to him, he made a show of fiddling with his remote control before tapping the red button once and zapping her to her feet. Growling, she tugged at her collar, rubbing at the tingling flesh where the electricity made contact before glaring towards her handlers and acquiescing.

“Yeah. Lavender," she growled, leaning back against the wall, crossing her arms over her breasts, and ducking her tail up between her thighs, “who're you?"

“I am Doctor Elm, the resident physician of this facility. How are you today?"

“Seriously?"

“Any illnesses? Soreness? Fatigue?"

“What the fuck do you think? I puke my guts out half the time from the slop you push in here, my back feels all cut up from this shitty floor you've got me sleeping on, and oh yeah, I don't wanna fucking be here."

“Is this level of irritability common, Miss Evans?"

“Are you fucking with me right now? What the fuck do you want? What do any of you people fucking want with me? Or my sister?"

“Ah, your sister. Nicole Evans, correct? I believe she's next on my list. You two are twins? Seventeen years old, born…January 20th, 3310?"

“You tell me," she hissed before yelping as another shock ran through her collar, “yes! Fuck! Yes, seventeen, twins, all of that. Arceus fucking dammit!"

“And I can see that you're an Espeon. Parents are…Joel Evans, an Absol…and Fiona Evans…Sylveon. Correct?"

“Yes," she paused, contemplating just how much they already knew about her.

“You evolved over the summer of…3325. I believe the Espeon species is an affinity evolution of the Eevee branch?"

“Yeah…affinity. Sure."

“Alright then, that takes care of verification. Now we can get started. First off, I notice that you have a tattoo around your navel. Is that the only such body modification?"

“She's got a whore stamp too, Doc," the warden helpfully interjected, sneering across the cage.

“A-?"

“A whore stamp. Tattoo on her lower back. It's so guys know you're open for business."

“I…see. Is that all?"

“Oh yeah. Believe me, I combed this one over myself."

“I bet you did," Lavender mumbled to herself, “fucker."

“On a related note," the doctor looked up briefly and waggled his index finger towards Lavender's pubic mound, “you dye your hair, I take it?"

“Yes," she growled, slipping one arm from her chest to join her tail, hovering over her groin.

“Alright then," Elm continued, noting the change in posture, “what about piercings? Ears, nose, tongue, etcetera?"

“She didn't come in with any-" the warden began.

“My ears are pierced," Lavender interrupted, “but I don't like wear earrings. I'm allergic to silver and they get all infected."

“Ah yes, allergies, that's next on the list," the doctor observed, jotting notes down on his chart, “Bruno, would you mind allowing Miss Evans to answer? I think she's being cooperative now."

“Yeah, Bruno," the Espeon snapped, baring her teeth and receiving another shock for her troubles.

“Fine. She's all yours, Doc."

“Thank you. Now, Miss Evans, you mentioned a silver allergy. Do you have any others?"

“Ugh," she grimaced, rubbing at her burning neck once more, “I can't eat shellfish. That's all."

“Does that swell your throat?"

“I don't fucking test it regularly."

“Fair enough. Anything else?"

“I said no."

“Alright," he jotted a check mark in the chart and continued on, “are you a virgin?"

“Yeah, I'm a fucking virgin," she sneered, rolling her eyes.

“That's a…no, then. Have you ever contracted a sexually transmitted disease?"

“No."

“Have you ever been pregnant? Or given birth?"

“Do I look like I've had kids?"

“You'd be surprised, Miss Evans. But I assume from your response that your answer is a no."

“Yeah, that's a no."

“Alright. How often during a given year do you enter estrus? And when does this typically occur?"

“When do I go into heat? Uh…that's none of your fucking business."

“We do require-"

“You know what, fuck it. I bet Bruno's gonna light me up again, so fucking fine. Whatever. Twice a year. March and September."

“Thank you. Let's see…have you contracted Pokerus?"

“Two years ago."

“Any other major diseases or injuries?"

“No."

“No broken bones?"

“No broken bones. No scars, no cuts, no bruises…least there weren't any when I got here."

“Is there any history of illness in your family?"

“None."

“I notice that you've been squinting for much of this meeting. Are you visually impaired?"

“Well, I can't see a goddamn thing besides these gray walls and everything looks a blur. Other than that though, my eyes are fine."

“I see," he tapped the pencil's eraser against his lips for a moment before turning back, “Bruno. Do you still have the personal effects from this group? Perhaps Miss Evans'…glasses? Contacts?"

“Glasses. And yeah, get on that, Bruno."

“Once you're out of there, Doc. Do what you've gotta do and hurry it up."

“Of course," Elm turned back to Lavender, “how's your hearing? Satisfactory?"

“I'm not deaf, if that's what you mean."

“Sense of smell?"

“Far too good for this shithole."

“Hmm, I think," Elm mumbled, continuing to jot at his clipboard, rough scribbles echoing through the sudden silence of the cage, “we're all set with the interview portion of this examination. Now I'm going to begin the physical."

Moving over to his briefcase, he extracted a tape measure and a plain metal scale that took up about two thirds of the parcel's space, setting the device down on the floor at Lavender's feet. He approached the Espeon slowly, kneeling down and gripping her right ankle. She stiffened, fingers clenching as she glanced in the direction of the cell door where the warden's green blur remained vigilant, gritting her teeth as she allowed Doctor Elm to touch her. He tugged her foot slightly off the ground, hooking the tape measure beneath her sole before settling it back to the concrete and extending its length upward.

As the device whizzed against her body, Lavender was treated to a more defined look at the doctor in his close proximity. Gaunt and bespectacled, the man's dark skin was pocked with age marks, and the origins of a patchy white beard encircled his jawline. Coal eyes met hers, the man respectfully glancing up as the cool material of the tapeline passed over her forearm and breast. The Espeon elicited a quick gasp at the sensation, biting her lip immediately and forcing her eyes shut to break contact with Elm. To his credit, he finished his task, halting the hefty metal base of the device just above her jewel and nodding to himself. His leather shoe lightly tapped at her foot, which eagerly released the tape, sending it skittering back into its home.

“67 inches," he said, scribbling the number down, “please step onto the scale for me, Miss Evans. And keep still."

She reluctantly stepped forward, bare feet depressing the scale's surface as the digital display rotated clockwise in anticipation of its result. The various lines and dashes halted, revealing 129.2, at least two pounds lighter than Lavender had weighed a week prior. Nevertheless, Doctor Elm knelt down to record the information and nodded for her to step back before securing the device in his briefcase once more. Another test completed, he rose to his feet and grasped the end of his stethoscope in one hand.

“Arms at your sides please," he waved the instrument towards her, “tail untucked. And I'll need you to take a deep breath."

After a few seconds, she tentatively lowered her arms, her breasts bouncing slightly as they succumbed to the abrupt influence of gravity. Her tail followed suit, leaving her bared to the small audience and revealing her pink slit, topped by a small patch of royal purple pubic fur. Though her fur bristled angrily at her forced nudity in the presence of an uninvited assailant, Doctor Elm remained a consummate professional, once again making eye contact with the young woman and maintaining his gaze from the neck up.

The doctor mimed for Lavender to inhale deeply, applying the stethoscope directly beneath the soft fur of her right breast as she followed his instructions. The breath caught briefly in her throat as the chilled metal pressed into her tender flesh, and the following exhale trembled as the stethoscope glided across her chest to repeat the process on her left side. This process continued for several more attempts, the Espeon breathing in and out as Doctor Elm explored her abdomen to its fullest extent. She gave off a shameful yelp as he circled around, finding a weak point against her shoulder blade. The subsequent response, a patronizing pat on the head, only added to the humiliation. Still, he finished his task, the stethoscope flopping back against his chest as he noted the results on Lavender's chart.

Remaining behind her, Elm wrapped both latex-covered hands around her calf, rotating from side to side as he squeezed her muscle. His hands drifted north, oblivious to the intensifying growls as they groped Lavender's thigh just shy of her crotch. He repeated the process on her other leg, nodding and offering the occasional 'ah' or 'mhm' with robotic efficiency. Gripping her at the knee, he lifted the leg, raising it as high as it could before the Espeon displayed signs of discomfort. The leg swung back, stretching out behind her to reveal a similar result. After duplicating this test on her other side, he continued up her body, grasping a firm handful of her smooth rear and releasing, noting the elasticity before replicating the motion on her other cheek.

Lavender was prepared to snap until he reached her tail. Her eyes shot open as his latex glove wrapped around the base, stroking about halfway up its length before bending the appendage up and down, and from side to side. A needy mewl escaped her lips, drawing Elm's attention to the girl's clenched fists, bristling fur, and lowered ears.

“I'm nearly done with this," he assured her.

“Fine! J-Just hurry up!"

Elm's sense of urgency remained unchanged, and he calmly stroked the Espeon's tail to its fork. He tuned out the sharp series of meows and desperate tapping of her foot as he wiggled her divergent tips, twisting and flexing them while noting the wild spasms whenever one went unchecked. Clearing his throat, he released her, Lavender's tail quickly coiling its way around her left thigh, each end still quivering against her fur. Beneath her fur, a deep red hue flushed over her body, and she swallowed one final mewl, defiant to her nature once again.

Scooting around the young girl, Elm gripped at her abdomen, tenderly examining the smooth muscle of her stomach. Lavender fought back giggles, refusing to break down so soon after the molestation of her tail. She masked several chuckles with a series of false coughs, his fingers prodding around the crescent of her tattoo and circling her navel. Her toes curled, claws digging into the concrete in preparation as he stood, applying his palms to the underside of her breasts. After a few gentle squeezes to her mammaries, he repeated the earlier experiment from her backside, lifting the supple flesh and allowing it to bounce back to its original position. The Espeon flexed her fingers, claws scratching against her bare palms while she watched the doctor's face intently. The only reassuring thing about his current molestation was the complete emotional detachment his face portrayed, though even that could be chalked up to her blurred vision.

Much like with her legs earlier, Elm groped and massaged the muscle of Lavender's arms, traveling from shoulder to claws and rotating her limbs in all possible directions. Satisfied, he cupped her chin between his thumb and index finger, turning her head to the left, then the right, and becoming acutely aware of the growing scowl across her otherwise soft and pleasant face. He stepped back, jotted a few more notes on his chart, and gathered his briefcase, propping it upon the chair and retrieving an otoscope.

“We're nearly done, Miss Evans," he reported, stepping forward and pinching the tip of her ear as he peered inside through the otoscope's magnifier. Lavender winced, her neck tilted and trying to alleviate the strain on her ear as it twitched within the doctor's grasp. He moved to the other side and duplicated the process before producing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping away the apparatus' tip. Without missing a beat, he tilted her head back and inserted the otoscope into one nostril, nodding as he peered inside. A sudden sneeze coated him in a mist of saliva, the thought of which brightened the girl's face, but he remained undeterred. Finishing with her nose, he wiped his face clean and pried open her jaws, shining a small flashlight to the back of her throat and drawing the beam over each tooth, clucking briefly as he noticed a gold filling.

As he released her head, Lavender shook her hair, reaching up to swipe her index finger over the damp fur of her upper lip. She sniffled for a moment, wriggling her nose to coax out another sneeze before squinting to try and make out the new device Doctor Elm had removed from his case. He approached cautiously, frowning as he brought the instrument up to her eye line. Clear plastic gleamed in the pale fluorescent light of her cell as she realized exactly what the elongated device was for.

“No!" she growled, hissing, “no fucking way!"

“I have to, Miss Evans."

“No you fucking don't!"

“I do," he stated calmly, “this won't take long, I promise."

“No! Fuck you! You can shove that thing upFUCK!"

She flew back against the wall, hissing and spitting wildly as her claws sunk into the leather collar, attempting to tear at the restraint as electricity coursed through her. Lavender thrashed about until her legs gave out, collapsing to the floor and writhing until Doctor Elm banged on the cell door, ordering Bruno to cease her punishment. Her eyelids twitched, watching the doctor's blurred form kneel at her side and hook one hand under her armpit, dragging her to her feet. He hoisted one arm around his shoulder and hobbled her to the chair, crashing the briefcase to the floor as he swept it aside. As he settled her in place, he tucked her tail through the opening at the back of the chair and leaned her back, the Espeon's arms dangling limp at her sides while he retrieved the discarded speculum from earlier.

Slowly, the doctor spread the Espeon's labia, pushing the instrument into her vagina as deep as it could go. For her part, Lavender began to regain agency of her body, emitting a soft whine as she glanced down to find Elm studying her womanhood. As the speculum moved within her, she once again failed to contain her mewls. Though the pain had subsided, the electrical charge left her body tingling and sensitive to even the most harmless of stimuli; the sensation burying deep into her slippery canal hardly qualified as harmless, reminding her of the sleek plastic toy residing in her bedside drawer at home. Trying to regain her self-control, she attempted to drag her legs together. In a rare display of force, Doctor Elm gripped her thigh with his free hand and spread her open once more, his face never retreating from the end of the device.

By the time his thorough examination was complete, the light violet fur around Lavender's pussy glistened with shameful moisture. Doctor Elm extracted the speculum with a soft squelch, holding it to one side as he rose to his feet, pulling the Espeon along with him. Spinning her around, he straddled the young woman over the chair, pushing her forward as her breasts squished against the metal back. A chorus of mewls erupted as her clutched her tail, yanking it up and away to reveal her tight pucker. Mewls gave way to an extended hiss as she bit her lip, looking over her shoulder in response to the speculum, lubricated with her own juices, as it pushed its way into her anus.

Elm's probing felt like an eternity as the Espeon fought back a series of mewls, clutching the chair in a feeble attempt at distraction from the sensation invading her ass. When he finally finished his examination, the speculum popped free and Lavender let out an involuntary sigh of relief. He helped her to her feet and fluttered loose his handkerchief, gliding it down to dab at the damp fur between her thighs and wipe away the small puddle of fluid formed on the chair's metallic seat. Trembling, she backed away, her shoulder blades meeting the wall as she watched the doctor's blurry form clean up the minor mess she'd left behind. Her claws dug into her hips while she waited, needing to keep her hands occupied, lest they indulge in her newly-awakened bestial instincts and put on a show for Doctor Elm and Bruno.

“You're not afraid of needles, I assume?"

“Wh-what?"

“Your tattoos. I would assume you're not averse to needles?"

“N-No. No, I'm…I'm not afraid of needles. Th-That's Nicole, not me."

“Good to know," Elm's voice flowed over his shoulder as he rummaged through his briefcase once again, “because we're almost done. I just need to draw some blood to make sure there's nothing we need to be concerned about."

Compared to his previous actions, the needle Elm produced was a welcome change of pace. Tapping on the crook of Lavender's elbow, he injected her once, drawing back the plunger to fill a full vial with her blood. Quick and efficient, he extracted the needle, and in its place tied a strip of linen cloth around her arm, citing her fur as a reason for avoiding tape and traditional bandages. Fully satisfied, he made a few final notes on his clipboard before tucking it, and all of his accoutrements back into the briefcase before sealing it shut. He passed the case to Bruno through the bars and seated himself in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and looking up at the Espeon.

“We're finished, Miss Evans," he stated bluntly, “however I believe I owe you an explanation."

“Y-Yeah."

“You're still flustered. If you need to masturbate and compose yourself, I'll gladly look away."

“No! Ew! Arceus fucking…no."

“Alright then. Your choice. As I was saying, I…we…my organization, owes you an explanation. Why you're here."

“N-No shit. Who the fuck are you people?"

“As I said earlier, my name is Doctor Elm. Jonas Elm. I work for the Rocket Corporation. I'm sure you've heard the name before. At school, perhaps. Our CEO, Salvatore Varrino, is one of the main benefactors for the various Arcean Islands Battle Academies. The Rocket Corporation fully funds those academies, paying for the highest of quality education for young men and women like yourself who can afford it, as well as providing scholarships for those gifted Pokemorphs who cannot. We provide this service for a very important reason, Miss Evans.

I'm sure you believe the battle training you received over these past four years was meant to stock the various Pokemorph-operated combat leagues and arenas scattered throughout your country, but this is not the reality. No, the Rocket Corporation insists upon battle training at all of its academies because it's worth much more in my world…the human world. Pokemorph battling is big business, and the Rocket Corporation has cornered the market on this business. Those that excel in the academies—Pokemorphs like yourself and your sister—are…harvested would be the proper term, and brought to the mainland to be drafted onto a professional combat team."

“H-How can you…that's not possible!"

“Oh but it is. The staff of our little schools is informed of the arrangement. So long as they keep their heads down, they earn a tidy living, and only a small percentage of their students are ever chosen, so I'm sure the guilt is negligible. As for the families…it's amazing the sort of lies people are willing to believe when they're swaddled in positivity and false hope. Most parents only require an acceptance letter from a prestigious human college before they accept that their little angel is on the path to bigger and better things."

“My mom…my dad would never believe that!"

“Well, this is true. Some families do fight the process…for a time. Until doing so simply becomes too dangerous to continue."

“You…you bastard!"

“I assure you, Miss Evans, I am not. I am merely a messenger, here to examine you and determine your physical viability. That's what this place is: the Neo Johto branch of the Rocket Corporation's Pokemorph Preparatory Facility. You'll be here, undergoing processing, for a few days more before you'll be shipped out under the care of your new owner."

“O-Owner?"

“Yes. Think of it like a coach…only a tad more omnipotent. You're a smart girl, Miss Evans, I'm sure you'll understand soon enough."

Doctor Elm rose to his feet, folding the chair in half and hoisting it up under his arm. He turned and nodded back to Bruno, whose keys jingled as they turned in the lock, sliding open the cell as the doctor emerged. As the door fastened securely once more, Elm looked back into the Espeon's aghast face before making a show of plucking off his gloves and tossing them to floor.

“Ah yes, that's right," he smiled, “Bruno, I believe we need to find Miss Evans' glasses, remember? Probably her sister's as well, isn't that right, dear? We wouldn't want her to be anything shy of her best now, would we?"

Bruno chortled, bopping his baton against the bars of Lavender's cell one last time as he followed Doctor Elm, strolling out of view. Minutes later, an intern haphazardly tossed a pair of glasses into the cage, the red plastic clattering on the floor as Lavender fumblingly secured them on the bridge of her nose. The view was clear, though her kennel looked as gray and desolate as always. In the hallway, just out of reach, she watched as the pair returned, passing her with a fresh chair and case in tow, pausing as Bruno secured Elm within Nicole's cell next door. She leaned against the bars, trying to follow their movements, only to yelp as Bruno's rounded on her, striking out and thwacking her ear between his baton and the bars.

Bruno sneered, the corner of his mouth pulled skyward and drawing Lavender's attention to the trio of jagged scars across the side of his face, a feature she noticed for the first time with her reclaimed sight. He turned his back to her and focused his attention on the second cell, leaving the Espeon to listen in confined isolation, seething as she heard the doctor begin the same spiel for her twin.

“Hello. I'm Doctor Elm. I'm the resident physician for this facility. How are you?"

All characters © Inviso

Artwork from Avencri and Upstairstudios