The feel of soft fabric caressing his face and a gentle pressure against his eyes pulled the man back from the deep, dark silence that had embraced him. Lying on his back, his body; aching and sore, began tensing, only to relax as he again felt a gentle touch caress his skin. A half formed groan whispered in the air, issuing from a throat abused by too much screaming, and passing dry and cracked lips caked with blood and sores from biting back screams, until he could hold them no more. the barely audible sound was all it took, a small gasp and the man felt a cool, damp cloth cover his face as the sound of something scrambling away reached his ears.
Slowly, almost as though the arm were a long unused machine covered in rust, it began the long journey to take his hand from his waist up his chest, and to his face. Shaking with the effort, and slowed with the weight of a manacle attached to his wrist, the man must rest his hand on his chest, for he has not the energy to continue. His fingers slowly crawl their way up to his chin, and fingers long unused scrape at the cloth that is covering his vision.
Almost motionless, all his energy is focused on that one small movement, and his fingers clutch at the cloth, unable to do more than give him a feel of the coarsely made fabric. Having used all his energy, his hand falls limp, as he breathes as deeply as his battered and bruised ribs will allow. A cautious voice, rough from abuse, but distinctly female whispers softly through the air.
“If you promise you will not harm me, I will come back and help you.” The quaver of fear that carries in the voice is obvious even to one who has never heard it. The man’s lips quirk in the tiniest of smiles, his thoughts turn inside his head, and he figures that he probably couldn’t hurt anything, even had he desired such. Opening his mouth, the man tries to speak, to reassure the voice, but all that comes out is a rasping breath. Resigned to himself, the man tries raising his hand; and, trembling with effort, he shakily pulls in his fingers to give the voice a wavering thumbs up, before his hand drops to his chest, and turns with the force of gravity, so his palm is up, and his thumb is away from his face. The discomfort of the position reaches the man’s thoughts, but he hasn’t the energy to care.
A soft sound is the only indication of the cautious motion that brings the female closer. The man, having no energy lies there, letting the woman do as she will. When the man does not move, the female shuffles closer, until her body is softly touching the man’s shoulder. A tentative hand reaches out, and softly touches the cloth, her fingers softly brushing his skin causing her to flinch. The man’s fingers twitch slightly, drawing the female’s eyes, until she realizes that he is just trying to move his hand into a more comfortable position. Gently, the female’s hands caress his arm as she softly moves his hand and arm, laying it back on the ground beside him. Her hands return to the cloth, and softly begin pulling it, as though cleaning his face.
The man lets his attention follow the feel of the hand, his thoughts full of questions, both about where he was, and about her and why she seemed as though he would rip her apart with naught but a thought. Her voice pulls his attention back, as she begins to softly scrub at his face, and closed eyes.
“I am going to try and clean you up, please do not fight me, I was ordered to clean you, and if the mistress finds out that I haven’t gotten you clean, and helped you heal, she has promised to beat my into unconsciousness again.” Her voice squeaked out the last word as she felt his hand on her leg, but all he did was to gently pat her in what she finally decided was a reassuring way, before his hand returned to motionlessness.
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Fuzzy images seemed to flash into being, his daily torture he supposed, as he caught just the tiniest glimpse of his roommate, and his surroundings. The most frustrating part, he figured, was that somehow they had wired his eyes, so he could only see when there was a sound. Each foot scraping against the ground brought a fuzzy spark to his vision, and when the sound left, so too did the sight.
The female approached her being flashing into focus. Then suddenly dimming back, as he tried to understand what was happening. Her hand touched him, holding him in place, as her soft voice roughened from ‘he knew not what’ caressed his ear softly. “It’s alright, just a nightmare…” she placed a cup to his mouth, and continued, “… here, water.” Her hand slid off him, and under his shoulders, almost effortlessly lifting him up as she gently tilted the cup’s contents into his mouth. “Drink slowly, it will help.”
The female held him as he drank, and after about half a cup, the man shook his head. The female nodded to herself and took the cup away, and almost dropped it as the man’s voice reached her ears for the first time. It was scratchy from disuse, but deep, and it reverberated through her body, and off the walls. He spoke one word; that was all he needed, as within that word lie questions enough. To one who understood his position, the questions stemmed from that one word, “eyes?” were all to obvious.
“Your eyes are covered, I have been cleaning them, but there was so much blood, that I fear when I finally get them cleaned, you still may not be able to see; If you hold still, I can finish.”
Eventually when his caretaker had told him that she had cleaned off all the caked on layers of dirt, grime, blood and tears, his eyes seemed to work normally again, even though in the dim light, he couldn’t see as clear as he could when he was only getting flashes. Raising his head with a small smile, that died as he gazed upon his nurse, he groaned as his head dropped again. Another word from the man, this one tinged deeply with resignation, and tasting of defeat, reached the female’s ears, “figures”.
“What? What figures?” the female demanded, a sharper note in her voice than he had heard so far.
Gathering himself, the man seemed to swell a bit before his voice reverberated from his chest. “that the first I would see is one of the only breeds predisposed to hate me, and yet, is forced to make nice.” The man slumped, his head dipping slightly, seemingly out of energy. A small smirk graced his lips as he heard his cup drop from her nerveless fingers, and clatter on the ground. Rallying himself. He didn’t bother moving, but instead spoke again. “sorry, I figure I just scared half your life out of you, but it’s as much a part of who I am, that I can be sarcastic, as it is of what you are to want to be as far from me as possible. I figure we can change that, but it won’t happen overnight.” The man’s body relaxed as he seemed to breathe deeply, and the female watched as his breathing evened out, signaling he was asleep.
The girl slumped, her body shaking, breathless. His eyes, all her thoughts seemed to focus there. His eyes were a deep brown, rich as the fresh turned loam with flecks of gold shimmering in the dim light. She saw the naked sincerity in them as he spoke, his gentle gaze seemingly reassuring her. Something inside her twisted as she thought, and with a blink, she realized that she was cradling the ma’s head in her lap, and of all things, she had a peaceful smile on her face. Gently, she stroked a hand through his soft hair, her thoughts turning inward as she silently thanked her mistress for forcing this ‘punishment’ upon her, and before she realized it, she had fallen asleep.
Notes:
PSI-DYKE, the Man-Hating Pokégirl
Type: Near Human or Humanoid
Element: Psychic
Frequency: Rare
Diet: carnivorous (ferals prefer raw freshly-killed meat)
Role: Anti-Human Psychic Task Force
Libido: exclusively lesbian, moderately High
Strong Vs: Fighting, Poison, Psychic
Weak Vs: Bug, Dark, Ghost
Attacks: Teleport, Quick, Agility, Telekinesis
Enhancements: Night vision, unique skin, functional claws
Evolves: Psivamp (Moon Shard), Psilady (Dark Stone), Platypussy (Angel Stone or proximity to the Orange Island Explosion site)
Evolves From: None
Psi-Dykes are not common for many reasons, not the least of which is their carnivorous eating habits.
Threshold and Domesticate Psi-Dykes look Near Human so long as they don't become feral. Psi-Dykes don't have a unique appearance, but all Psi-Dykes have a unique skin takes on a smooth, almost oily, texture. Their skin allows them to resist 'pruning' in water and gives them a silken touch.
Feralborn Psi-Dykes, a true rarity, and any Psi-Dyke who DOES go feral do not look very humanoid. Their skin turns a faint turquoise color and looks almost scaly, even though it isn't. Their eye colors usually invert (save for their pupils), and their claws lengthen to an inch, but become retractable. When feral, Psi-Dykes have a tendency to separate things into that which can be mated with and that which is food. Everything else is a concern only in how it can be used to get either more things to mate with or more things to eat.
If Domesicate or a Threshold Pokégirl takes a female human lover, she will return to her Near Human appearance, save for her claws, which remain retractable. Their psychic powers are considerable and only the strongest willed of female Tamers has been known to keep in control of a Psi-Dyke when she's "in the mood".
Feralborn Psi-dykes have also been known to cause some dismay due to their habit of swallowing live rodents whole, though some have adopted a more civilized habit of biting the heads off before devouring their meal. Domesticate or Threshold Psi-Dykes may seek out a Khangasscunt or a Chickenlittle to fulfill their meat needs.
When feralborn or domesticate born, Psi-Dyke instinctively hate males, and it's believed that they may have been made as an attempt to keep Pokégirls from going feral and joining mankind. Domesticate Pokégirls can usually keep their hatred in check to the point that they can be nice to men who are well-mannered or good at heart; but Feralborn Psi-Dykes have a harder time tolerating any man.
Threshold Pokégirls do not arbitrarily change their opinions about men, but slowly find themselves less and less attracted to male until only bishounen-esque men (i.e. men who are pretty to the point of being feminine in appearance) can even begin to arouse them. Eventually, 95% of all threshold Psi-Dykes will find that the strongest relationships they can have with men is purely friendship. Threshold Psi-Dykes are the most likely to even attempt to engage in a heterosexual relationship, but find themselves requiring female companionship as well, due to the fact that Psi-Dykes are among the rare Pokégirls whose taming cycle is 100% satiated from taming from a female, while a taming with a male will result in only 10% effectiveness. As such, it requires five tamings to get them as satiated as a normal Pokégirl would be with a female tamer.
In the rare even that a male tamer winds up with a Psi-Dyke, it's suggested that they get a Dark-type Pokégirl or a trusted Pokégirl (i.e. bonded to the tamer) to be the Psi-Dyke's regular lover.