Dark Beginnings

      It isn't that I hate Pokègirls. The truth is I don't trust them. They aren't people enough to stand up and say `no` when something is morally wrong. They say there are Pokègirls who seek out evil. I have never seen any. They say there are Pokègirls who uphold Justice, and the Law. Show me one of the former, I've seen too many of the latter mindlessly upholding unjust laws, I want to

     'Limbec Pirates. It's a name to give even the gods pause', my old teacher used to say. We all thought it was big talk to keep us in line, just wind. Until today.

     I didn't see what they did, but I heard it all.

     Old Man MacCreedy makes - made - the best moonshine, his Enchantress Pokèwife had enchanted the bunker/root cellar with all kinds of runes to avoid detection by the 'Revenoo'. It had become a rite of passage to sneak in, get a sip and escape. Breathing in the challenger's face or an ass-load of buckshot or rock-salt were all considered adequate proof.

     I was sure I was a man, so I was in the bunker when the attack started. They never found me, despite how close they got. I heard what they did to the mayor, the local NurseJoy and OfficerJenny. I didn't see anything, other than the runes in the walls occasionally glowing softly.

     Then the silence. Minutes, hours, days, I didn't know. I sat there among the metal tubes, the burners, and the jugs, listening to each creak, scratch and pop, and prayed it was only heating or cooling metal.

     Finally, even the metal fell silent. Still I waited, eyes straining to pierce the darkness, ears straining to pierce the silence. Finally, cold and hunger forced me from my hiding place.

     I tried not to look at the heaps of flesh that littered the landscape, concentrating instead on the columns of smoke. Especially the ones from the ships pulled up on the shore. The pirates who had attacked us had encountered something that had destroyed them. I carefully poked around the buildings, most of them were charcoal. Houses, the Pokècenter, everyplace.

     The pirates wanted to reduce this place to a memory, I thought as I walked through the ruins towards my home.

     As I headed towards the edge of town, more lightly damaged and even untouched buildings began to crop up. My house, my entire neighborhood looked that way. Some fires had burned the smaller buildings, but the small houses way out 'on the wrong side of the tracks' weren't worth their time. The houses looked fine, but I couldn't hear any of the usual sounds of people, the smells of baking or laundry. There were charred bits on the stuff hanging on some of the clotheslines, as if some moron had tried to set sopping wet clothes and bedding ablaze. In another time and place, it would have been a comical sight. The only sounds were my idiot little brother's crystal radio playing the all-news station from the nearby town, the creak and rattle of the windmills providing electricity or pumping water, the flap of laundry in the breeze.

     No laughter, no cries, no mothers yelling at their kids, none of the soft talk of teenagers who should have known their mothers could hear every word, none of the sound of an occasional Taming going on in the woods. There were sounds, just no human sounds, just machine sounds, the sounds of empty houses. The machines had no more orders, so they continued doing what they had last been `told` to do. The houses creaked and groaned, as if nervous about their fate, with their inhabitants all gone. Purposeless. Good Lord, I'm maudlin. They could all be hiding in the root cellar, or in the forest, I told myself silently, as I crept towards my house, Hey, how about that, I'm actually looking forward to a hiding for being out so long and worrying everybody. That is gonna make dad and mom nuts, me smiling all through a switching.

     I crept through my house, remembering which boards made noise and avoiding them, all the time listening to the radio reports that the Navy intercepted a Limbec Pirate assault force and destroyed it. Funny, no mention of whether they succeeded or failed to save the town's inhabitants, I thought as I listened to the stories of victory of the carrier Abe Lincoln and its squadrons of flying Pokègirls over the vicious attackers. I remember seeing one of the Navy's carriers, a huge six masted sailing vessel with over a hundred flying-types aboard. It was an awesome sight . . . just not enough to save my town, I thought bitterly as I crept around my own house like a sneak-thief. Afraid not of finding my parents and answering to them, but of not finding them, or worse, finding what the Limbec Pirates left of them.

     After almost two hours of creeping from room to room, opening every closet and cupboard and drawer with terror and expectation, I gave up. If they left, they hadn't returned, if they'd been taken away, they hadn't been brought back. The place was deserted, empty, dead.

     My last stop was the sprawling treehouse out back, hoping beyond hope that one of the neighbor kids had managed to hide there in what one local bookworm called 'Winchester Mansion in the sky'. The signs of struggle were everywhere, someone or several someones had tried to hide, or had tried to fight. All the games of `Domestic and Ferals` . . . someone tried it for real. I can imagine how it turned out. There was blood here, and the piles of rocks and the handmade arrows were either stuck in the tree itself, or gone. The walls were torn in a dozen places. They must have torn through the walls to get at the `defenders`, I thought, Or tore the defenders out through the walls. The claw marks on the tree made that more likely. None of the local Domestic-born had claws that big. At the highest point on the treehouse I looked out over the horizon. From way up here, I can see all the smoke pillars, all the destroyed buildings and farms, I can see the town is gone. Everybody I ever knew, everything I ever cared about is gone.

     In a daze, I packed up all the camping gear, tents, blankets, stove, etc. I raided the places I knew where my older sisters, mom and dad hid a little extra money. I walked to my friends' houses and took any cash there as well. I left the jewelry, any old coins. Maybe they're keepsakes or heirlooms, I told myself, although I didn't want anything left in my house, not my lucky shells, not my `baseball` cards, nothing. My dad's brother can have it all, I'm done with it.

     I headed back out. In town, I found banknotes scattered about. These I collected. Like every other kid in town, I'd been studying what I'd need for a Tamer's journey, although I never intended to take one, I looted what I needed from the bones of my hometown. When it got too dark to work, I curled up in a cell at the jail, one of the few buildings in town with a roof and walls still intact. My loot on the floor beside me, I slept my last night in my hometown, in a jail cell.

     Morning came, and a quick breakfast, a last look through the Pokècenter for any girls left in the machines, Storage or their balls. Nothing. The fire had destroyed everything. Then I turned my back on where I grew up, with the intention of never returning again.

     I walked all morning and afternoon, rarely stopping, except to eat or sip some water. I'm not really hungry, or thirsty, or even tired, I realized, I'm just numb. As it began to grow dark, it got harder to put one foot in front of the other.

     I don't know where I'm going, I don't know what I'm doing, the realization and the loneliness landed on me like a ton of bricks, Just trying to get away was everything. It had been enough to keep me moving, it no longer was. It was as if someone let all the breath out of me. My legs folded up and I collapsed in the middle of the road. I knew I should have put up the tent, or crawled out of the road, but I couldn't. I don't care if I freeze to death, I don't care if I get run over, I thought, I don't care if they shoot me as a looter. I don't care.

---

     He hasn't frozen to death, or gotten run over. I'm wrapped in a blanket, he thinks, Several by the weight, and I'm in a tent. He could hear breathing, not his own. So I guess some Tamer found me and stuck me in with his Pokègirls to keep warm, he thinks, I'm not sure if he did me a favor or an injury. He opens his eyes to look around. The tent's the same as the one I packed. The heart-shaped face, intense blue eyes, blonde ringleted hair and world-brightening smile looking up at me. He doesn't know what he could have done to deserve it, or the hug that accompanies it as the child snuggled against him.

     "You're chilly," is the only explanation he gets.

     He can't place the breed. Very Near Human definitely, but extremely small, he thinks, Unless it's a Chibi. In which case, all bets are off.

     No, he realizes, It's a human, a human boy! How did he get this far out in the woods, he's not from my town, and the nearest town is several days walk? Why is he treating me like a lost brother?

     The boy pulls his head back under the blankets and seems to go back to sleep.

     He doesn't seem to mind being under the covers, he thinks, He doesn't seem to mind my arms around him. Except it isn't him my head is pillowed on, it's someone's arm, and a powerful one. An Amachoke or similar I'll bet, he thinks as he realizes he feels soft breathing on his neck. He turns to look, sees the muzzle, the midnight-black hair and the curious golden eyes. That can only be one breed! he realizes, Panthress!

     "He didn't scream. I think he'll do," the Panthress says before unconsciousness claims him.

---

     Morning came, he somehow escaped the nightmare of the previous night. Although I shudder at the memory, he thought, Must have been quite an experience to get me to dream that. Suddenly a figure wriggled out of his grip. Ohcrapohcrapohcrap! It wasn't a dream! He started climbing out of the bedding, only to be yanked back. He didn't receive the expected slam to the ground, instead he landed in the creature's hands. He looked up at the creature's fine, full bosom, then a little higher, and froze when he looked at her face.

     I remember the 'dex says 'Panthresses are vicious, unrelenting fighters'. This one's locked in a death struggle it seems, with herself, he realized as her face contorted with rage and tenuous control. He could feel her claws extending and retracting in time with her writhing face and lashing tail. More indications of the war within herself.

     "What are you doing? Where are you going?" she whispered, because a raised voice would be the first step to a vicious murder.

     "I have to pee," he admitted, "Also the boy needs - "

     His throat was in her grip, his feet dangling off the floor. "How do you know Kris is a boy?!" she screamed, choking off any responses he could make.

     "Mother," the soft voice said, the boy laid a hand on her hip, "Someone should look after me, and it's better if you hide." The boy's tone was very reasonable and soothing. The fury drained out of the Panthress as she gazed lovingly at the boy. "I trust him," he told the Panthress as he leaned against her, "That's why I picked him."

     Her grip slackened enough to let him breathe. "How?" she asked in a too-controlled voice.

     "It's a knack, maybe a Bloodgift. I've always been able to tell, like I can tell a Domestic-born from a Feral-born. It's obvious to me, it always has been."

     "What am . . . I?" she asked so he could see her fangs and guess what use they'll be next put to.

     "Domestic," he told her. It's as good as written on her, he thought.

     She dropped him. "Go, I'll be listening. My senses may not be as good as a Tigress's, but they're still plenty good."

     He nodded and followed the boy out of the tent and into the brisk morning air.

     "She likes you," Kris confided, "That's why she's so mad."

     "I'd hate to see how she'd be if she hated me."

     "She'd tear your throat out and eat you," Kris replied with a smile.

     Okay, he thought. "So what do I do?" He turned his back to the boy as he unbuttoned his fly, but looked over his shoulder to keep an eye on him.

     "Understand she's afraid, not really angry with you," Kris told him, "She loves me, a lot. She's afraid you'll do something to take me away."

     That gives me a lot to think about, he realized.

     "What are you going to do?" she demanded as they returned.

     "Can we discuss it?" he asked. There's something odd about the boy as well, he thought, No kid his age should be able to speak and think the way he does. Is it because of what his mother is?

     She growled but sat back when the boy sat in her lap, faced her and hugged her waist.

     "I don't know what you want," he told her, "Other than not revealing yourself to League authorities."

     "Mother." Kris stood up to be face-to-face with the Panthress. "You need to tell him the truth, all of it."

     Again the Panthress's seething expression softened as she looked at her boy. She considered Kris's words, then turned to hate the other occupant of the tent. Her pose was meditative, except her tail which lashed like a snake in its death agony. "I killed the Tamer who changed me from a Tigress into a Panthress. I was technically underage, but it never stopped him. I wasn't able to win my very first fight, so he punished me and didn't Tame me." She took a deep breath and bowed her head. "No matter how I begged, no matter what I promised." She looked up at him, her face impassive, but her eyes glowed with hatred. "I didn't like being ignored, and I still don't."

     He gulped and nodded.

     "I was . . . distracted . . . so I lost my second fight. As punishment, he showed me exactly what I was missing. He Tamed his entire harem, had them all panting with exhaustion, begging him to let them be so they wouldn't die of bliss and fatigue. All the time letting me know that I wasn't going to get any." She leaned forward, claws extended, only to have Kris grasp her arm. The boy pulled it back, as if hauling on a rope, until he could cup his face with her hand. The Panthress seemed to melt. She wrapped her arms and legs, and even her tail around the boy, holding him tightly against her body. She rocked back and forth for a moment, her chin on his shoulder. When she came back to herself, she looked over the boy's shoulder. "The pattern was repeated, for the required seven times. I evolved instantly. Suddenly I had the power and ferocity he always wanted, he just expected to be in control of it. I killed him, his partners and their combined Harems. I escaped that League, and found the Limbec Pirates. I got to . . . relieve myself - on a captive, and ceased being Feral. I worked for them, as they moved through the ocean. Finally, I was used in an experiment." Her fury had worked back up. This time she set the boy aside, threw her head back and ROARED!

     Not like a lion or a puma, he realized, It reminds me of that old monster movie.

     She finished and stared at him, daring him to react in any way. "They drugged and beat the crap out of me, and they tossed me in a pit. They had caught a Zeromer. They let her/it see the beating I got, then they gave her a worse one and threw her in the pit with me. They'd hurt her worse than she could fix, so she bonded with me. Their plan. Now they had a Battle Panthress. I assume they had great plans for me, except they didn't know - or didn't care - that the Zeromer was a Pokèwoman, and she must have realized that she'd been tricked."

     The Panthress sighed, a melancholy expression. "The next time I . . . dealt with male Tamers, it didn't satisfy, I even felt regret, not much, but it was there. Then I found out I was pregnant. I think the leadership was as surprised as I was, I'm just lucky that they didn't do a thorough scan. Later, I spared a NurseJoy, got her help to deliver . . . my son. I hid that `she` was a he, but I knew what would eventually happen to any human in that camp. So I made my plans to jump ship. How convenient I was ashore when the Navy wiped out the entire strikeforce, and with a heavy carrier no less. Our `masters` won't bother to come looking for any survivors."

     "I'm guessing that Kris waved to any of the nice Navy fliers who happened past the `corpse` of a Panthress," he said, mother and son both nodded, "You know that means they'll be looking for him?" Except they didn't find me, he thought, So they can't have searched hard, or they assumed anyone they searched for wanted to be found. That's probably why they missed me too.

     She didn't look worried, she looked at her son and touselled his hair. "I want him to grow up. I want to be able to help him grow up. Not like the bastard who did this to me, or my loving family who sold me to him."

     The thought of all the people in my old hometown who could have helped . . . he thought helplessly, They're gone, because of your friends! But I'm here. So do I avenge my town by destroying you . . . or by helping you? "What happened to the townsfolk?" he asked. Did you kill my neighbors and my family? he wanted to ask her.

     The Battle Panthress had the decency to look embarrassed. She took a deep breath. "They were all killed. Some of the Pirates found out some of their old shipmates had jumped ship and hidden there. I thought it would be a good place, because of that. All I did was come ashore. I was going to round up stragglers, instead I took to the woods, hid out, until the Navy came. We went deeper in the woods, found a place to hole up until the screaming stopped. The Navy's Airedales swept the place, burned all the bodies and headed back home. I waited a day and a half until I could head out. Towards nightfall, Kris found you. We saw you had everything we needed, since I didn't even have a set of clothes. So we helped ourselves to your stuff, and you."

     During her speech, he'd been remembering all his friends, relatives, even his enemies. She didn't take part in the slaughter, but she didn't stop it, he thought, suddenly feeling empty and alone, Everybody gone, I ain't going to live with my uncle and that pack of weirdos. So what do I have to look forward to? Captive of a monster with a hair trigger, a life on the run? Even if I get away . . . there's nothing out here for me. I've never been more than a day's walk away from town. I never wanted a Tamer's journey, I don't even know what's beyond and I never cared. Hell, I don't care now. Better to just get it over with. I never wanted Pokègirl, cause I never wanted captives, now I am a captive, I don't like that any more than having them.

     "Is the Zeromer why you're able to control yourself?" he asked without expression.

     There was a flash of anger, swiftly squelched. "Yeah, I get mad and . . . it's like the mood just stops, like a balloon popping, if nothing sets me off again. I'm not going to apologize for what I am and what I've done."

     "Fine, I don't care," he told her, "I heard your old comrades slaughter my town while I hid in a cellar. I've got nothing to care about. I've got no place to go and no place to be. You do need to get him and yourself checked out by a competent doc."

     "And you know one?" she asked angrily.

     "Yeah, Doc Thompson, oh right, he got killed by your mates. I'm as lost as you are!"

     She stood, grabbed him by the throat and dragged him to his feet so he was face-to-face with her. "You need to adjust that attitude, kid."

     "Why don't you just kill me? I don't care, who'd miss me, who'd notice?" He stared at her, waiting, almost wanting her to carry out her implied threat.

     "All I need you for is Taming, you can do that with or without your tongue, or a few other pieces," she growled.

     "And what do I need you for?" he asked coldly, trying to see how far he could push.

     "How about keeping you alive?" she replied.

     "How about if I don't care? You want to kill me for the supplies, go ahead and do it." He hoped she would, as much as he hoped she wouldn't. He really didn't have a preference.

     She seemed on the verge of tearing him to pieces when her tail slipped into the top of his pants, and down. The tail curled around his dick and the tip began teasing his balls.

     He felt himself relax in spite of himself.

     "Like getting a dozen blowjobs," she purred, licking his cheek, "From girls with mink lips. I like spirit, as long as you get a better of when to show it."

     He threw his head back and gasped as the feelings coming from his crotch, feelings he'd been told abut, but never experienced himself.

     "You really think you've got nothing to live for?" she purred as she wrapped her arms around him, "I don't think you've ever been with a girl, even a Pokègirl, have you?"

     "N - n - n - no," he stammered.

     "Poor baby," she purred, nuzzling his neck, giving his throat little cat licks, "That's part of your education I'll have to correct. And I'll tutor you every night."

     He couldn't answer, the pressure building in him was unbelievable, he thought he might explode at any second. I've had dreams, but not like this! he thought as the Panthress laid him down. He almost cried out when she pulled his pants down and her tail away, but something better replaced it. He couldn't help himself, he practically exploded once she'd slid completely over him.

     Her expression wasn't angry, or even disappointed but resigned. 'I should have known better'. She pulled herself up and free of him. "One thing about you virgins, you're quick to do the deed and you're quick to get started again," she told him, "Now I want you to think about something, keep it firmly in your mind, above all other thoughts." She blew gently on his member, as if fanning a flame. He felt himself getting hard again.

     "If you pop before I've even started - " She ran a claw tip over his stomach. "While you're having such a good time, I'll make a little slit." She leaned over him to stare in his eyes, and rubbed her belly on his hard cock. The feeling of her smooth skin almost made him pop again.

     "And start pulling out your entrails." She had his full and undivided attention. "Just wind them around my finger like spaghetti." Even the feel of her hand stroking him down there didn't erase the image she'd planted. "And squeeze out the crap inside, and eat them. You'll have a gut full of blood and shit, and that's all. If that doesn't cure the problem - " She paused as she continued to stroke and harden him.

     The need to pop again drove him slightly mad, but he knew she was telling the truth, this wasn't a threat, it was a description of what would happen. If that doesn't solve the problem?! he wondered how it couldn't.

     "There's a spot - " She touched the base of his cock with a claw tip, then started pressing in, retracting her claw so only her finger tip pressed hard against the underside of his cock. "As you spurt, I press there - hard - and you'll stay hard for hours."

     That doesn't sound so bad, he thought, Why didn't she do it before?

     "It'll feel like I've filled your balls to the bursting point with pure, liquid pain, but my old Tamer was into pain, if it meant he could service his entire Harem in one night. It has to cause some problems, but he had a girl with healing powers. Something you don't," she reminded him as she settled across his hips and impaled herself on him.

     He watched as she slowly, delightfully slid up and down, watched her fondle her huge, firm breasts, pinching and rolling her own nipples, and imagining his own intestine sliding between those breasts, then between her sharp teeth, and down her lovely throat. As she began to speed up, she began to pant, her breasts bouncing free as she snarled angrily and frantically clawed the air. I can almost feel her finger down there, pressing against that spot! he imagined, I can almost feel myself `backing up` from the block and my balls expanding and exploding! Going through life permanently hard, permanently in agony, but without balls.

     She howled her pleasure, he thought about all those things more intently than he'd ever thought of anything before. His need was a physical pain, but he held on. He needed release, but he needed her permission more than anything else. The anguish of need was only the tiniest taste of what she'd do to him.

     She pulled herself free, he almost couldn't stand it.

     "Ah, good, you can learn," she cooed, "You've been a good boy, now you'll get your reward." She'd barely gotten her lips around the tip when he exploded, spraying into her mouth. "Well, you were being good, weren't you?" she teased as licked him clean, her rough tongue flicking over his member, as if it were everywhere and nowhere.

     All he felt was limp. I should be getting hard again, he thought, But all I want is to lie here. "You really wouldn't - you weren't going to . . . I mean, not while we were - "

     "What do you think?" she asked and grinned, despite all the teeth, it was not the predator's smile, but the impish grin of a teasing girl, something he had a lot of experience with, "I said 'keep it firmly in your mind', I said I'd teach you. Now you know what to focus on, when you're with any girl, even a Pureline."

     "What do you - I mean what has - "

     She took his manhood in her hand and squeezed, slightly, silencing him, making him focus. "Now, now, slow down and think. You put those pictures in your mind, hold them there, and you can outlast any girl in existence." She ran her thumb over his tip. "That's always a good thing to know how to do. Now, just accept I want to get fucked every day, and I don't want you blowing your load before I get done, or you'll have a Feral Battle Panthress to deal with. So, since you're obviously one of those idiot New Age Tamers who has to talk through the time when any Pokègirl would rather be up and dancing around, then you stick her in her Pokèball to `rest`, I'll have to get you a nice Bimbo or Kitten at our next stop. So you won't be so lonely," she cooed, then snarled, "And so I won't have to kill you to shut you up."

     "I just wanted to know - "

     "You're better off assuming I will! In fact, you're better off assuming I'll do that to you anytime to go before the girl you're with goes."

     He gulped and nodded.

     "Now I'm going to bathe, I expect both of you to be asleep when I get back." She walked out, only her tail giving away how good she felt, the rest of her was a cloud of barely suppressed rage.

     He looked at Kris, who shrugged and wrapped himself in his blankets and went to sleep, as ordered.

     He lay there, staring at the wall of the tent, trying to figure out what had become of his easy, normal, predictable, boring life.

---

     The ball sailed right into his glove. "Not bad, Kris," he said as he tossed the ball back to the kid. He spared a glance at the delighted mother. So different from last night, he thought in amazement at the cute, seated with her tail curled around her feet posture. She might just be a busty, black Kitten from her pose and behavior right now. He caught another stinging throw from Kris. "You've really got an arm," he said as he stepped back to open the distance. Most kids his age can't throw that hard or that far, I'm already 20 yards and walking out. He tossed the ball, then saw Kris wasn't looking at it or him. Both Kris and his mother were scanning the sky.

     "In the tent! Now!" she shouted.

     You don't have to tell me twice, he thought as he heard the drone of wings, Bug-types. We've had problems with Buzzbreasts in these woods, a good reason to stay out of them. He collected Kris as the first Buzzbreast cleared the treeline. And exploded as the transformed Battle Panthress opened fire. The silvery creature who blasted Buzzbreast after Buzzbreast out of the air seemed to utterly lack the underlying Panthress's madness. She was just mechanically targeting and shooting. The boys dove into the tent, cowering as the shooting continued for a while, then stopped.

     Then the tent flap opened.

     "Dig a fire pit, stay close to it, I'll be back!" she told them and left.

     "Now what?" he asked.

     "We dig, gather wood and have it ready when she gets back," Kris explained.

     He broke out the shovels. "How deep and how big?"

     "Big enough to bury a horse-shape Rapitaur, and as deep as your shoulders," Kris replied.

     That sounds more like a barbeque pit, he thought, If you were cooking a Second Gen. Legendary.

know where they were, and just what they were so busy doing while I was growing up.

 

      The mayor of our town had a good scam going. As a place primarily full of pureblood humans (pure-strain as we called ourselves), any Pokègirls were to be turned over to him immediately. Any girl who Thresholded became his property. He needed them to protect us. I've heard about weapons confiscations in the past, attempts by a minority, who would subsequently avoid or ignore those laws, to control the majority, who foolishly obeyed them. Weapons were likewise banned in our town, after all, what did we need them for? The mayor and his police would keep us safe, from each other, and the lightest weapons that could deal with a Feral was a 50-caliber machine gun. The question nobody asks is 'Who is going to protect us from the politicians?'

      The town was ringed by a forest full of traps, and was the mayor's Pokègirls' private hunting preserve. So escape was impossible. We were also told that there was nothing but Ferals, isolated villages like ours, and devastation as far as the end of the world, so there was no where to escape to. That would have been bad enough, but the mayor had a taste for beautiful 'things': young women, girls, boys. If you were wall-eyed and snaggly-toothed, you were the lucky one. If you were 'fair to gaze upon', and worse, your family wanted what the Mayor could offer, you were in Hell.

      I was too young to fight, when my dad 'gave' me to the mayor, for a fancy steel plow. The Mayor didn't beat me, he simply refused to take 'no' for an answer. My first 'no' got me a heart-to-heart about love and beauty. The really creepy thing was, I was old enough to understand what he was demanding, and the speech was almost persuasive. My second 'no' got me a less tolerant lecture on duty to my family. The hints they'd suffer for my defiance were not-too subtly hidden, but never stated outright. The rest got me labeled a tease, or a dunce, and he simply took what he wanted. Afterwards, I was sent back to my family, escorted by his Majordomo, a self-important Pengal. My family was praised on their willingness to serve the mayor, and a few digs about 'spirited children, who should really learn their place'. What followed was another lecture by my father, which eerily echoed the one the mayor had given me, and my family shunned me as vaguely unclean. It was then I realized, I was of no value as a person, I was a commodity to be bartered, and commodities have no loyalty to their buyers or sellers.

      I was regularly sent to please the mayor. Occasionally my parents got extra food, blankets, a new spinning wheel. Never anything for me, that would have made the connection of what the mayor did, and the real reason for my family's cooperation, too obvious. All I got out of the deal were bad dreams, the mayor or one of his Pokègirls would do to me what they usually did, so they weren't really so bad. I was the mayor's to do with as he pleased. None of the kids my own age got interested in me as I grew up. They also knew not to tease and especially not to hurt me. It was an oddly sheltered, yet violated existence. I'd been beaten down too far to even consider suicide. The local Nurse Joy had special healing salves and potions reserved for the Mayor's favorites, or so the story went. So the Pokègirls wouldn't even let me die to escape, and you wonder why I will never trust them?

      The end of the mayor's paradise came one day, when a Pokèwoman with gray streaks in her hair landed in the town square and began shouting for 'Athistia' to show herself. The mayor's army of Pokègirls, which had held the villagers in thrall for so long, marched out to face her. They assumed she was a magic-type, so the mages clustered behind the line of fighting-types. The woman emitted fire, lightning, ice, and bolts of darkness which tore through the fighters and mages. The Mayor's Army began dying in batch lots. The woman rampaged through the town, destroying buildings, knocking humans out of the way, without hurting them, but killing every Pokègirl she came across.

      I followed, watching gleefully as so many of my tormentors died or fled in the terror I'd been forced to live in so long. As the creature destroyed the mayor's mansion, I decided to flee. No one would stop me. There was no one and nothing I wanted from this town, not my parents, not my friends, no one. Starvation and death in the wilderness were preferable to the life I had. So I headed off into the forest. Within a few minutes, I was alongside the only major road that led outside. I knew enough from previous escapes, and outings with the Mayor's coterie, that I had to stay off the road proper. It was full of traps, mostly lethal. A short distance off the road was both smarter, and safer. I didn't care I didn't have food or water, if I died away from my family and that town, that was escape enough. Then the universe gave me a present.

      Jacqueline was a Herolee 'general' of the Mayor's Army. I'd noticed she's fled when the situation was clearly hopeless.

      "Get me my pack," she ordered on seeing me, as if I'd never dare to disobey. She was clearly torn up, and there were probably bandages and healing gear in the pack that lay yards out of her reach.

      "Yes, Mistress," I answered in the manner and tone she always required of me, and the others.

      She smiled indulgently and looked at her ruined legs with such longing. I saw her pack. Beside it, was a large rock. It went against everything I was taught growing up. It went against all the 'respect your betters' the Pokègirls, especially this one, drilled me with constantly.

      But I returned with the rock, and she never suspected anything. Not even when I brought it down on her head. I was amazed her skull didn't splatter like a melon, on the first hit. It did on the third. I quit counting after that. Finally, the rock was just too heavy to lift anymore, and I looked at the bloody mess that was my chief tormentor's right hand. I felt no satisfaction or relief, only tiredness.

      I washed myself off, and changed out of my clothes, the fancy and flimsy clothes of one of the mayor's favorites, and into the more durable traveling clothes of my victim. I was surprised most of them fit well, especially the boots.

      Washed, redressed, in more ways than one, I headed out down the side of the road. After some walking, the dart in the neck was an unexpected event. I pulled the dart out, and immediately recognized it. I'd seen others hit with such darts, when they tried to run away, or refused to comply. Then I saw her, as my vision swam and my knees buckled, the Mayor's Majordomo in her `tuxedo`, walking towards me, smiling in a way that told me what was going to happen, because I'd seen it before.

      No, no! Not me, not this way! I tried to scream, to deny that again I would be a victim, as I slid to the ground. I made my last vow before the darkness took me, even though I knew what was next. I wasn't prepared for the reality.

------------------------------------------------

      It was morning, and I was terribly sore. I'd found myself in this position often enough over the years. I knew what had been done to me . . . again. By a Pokègirl by herself, this time.

      I had long experience with this too. The mayor never wanted any of his playmates around in the morning. I was used to dressing silently and slipping away. I had mastered it well enough that I'd taught my fellow victims the skill too. Most of them - most of us, couldn't look at each other in the morning. Both for what had been done to us, and what we'd been forced to do to each other.

      She was using the pack I'd scavenged as a pillow. The food and extra clothes might be useless to her, but if they mean I have to put up with her - I thought as I slipped away, I will do without them. I made my way out of camp with just the clothes on my back. The momentary idea that I had supplies, now because of her I didn't, didn't make me bitter, or more bitter. I was used to Pokègirls and their Masters taking things away from me. Pokègirls taking anything and everything from me and everyone else that they wanted, and no one could ever stop them, or tried. I just prayed my escape had been as clean as I had hoped.

      Should I feel . . . something? I wondered at being violated again, I'm more irritated at losing the supplies that I am at the Pokègirl taking something from me that I've had taken from me so long ago, and so many times since.

      The trail was harder than I figured it would be. The bruises from the Taming she gave me, inflicted on me, hampered my progress.

      I have to think that was intentional. The mayor was never that rough, unless he was exceptionally drunk and angry, I thought, Must be to make it harder for me to get away. I angrily forced myself to go on. As if I know where I'm going. Maps more detailed that the League-level were banned in our village. The road has to go somewhere, I told myself, The Tamers that wandered into the traps, and the Pokègirls who attacked had to come from somewhere.

      At the time, I didn't know I was being pursued, or I would have taken greater pains to conceal my trail.

------------------------------------------------

      Concealing in the brush at the edge of the clearing, I watched the Tamer and his Harem tangling with a pack of Ferals. It's not my fight, I told myself, Even if he was my business, I want nothing to do with that many Pokègirls. The noonday battle raged, the Tamer lost a few Pokègirls, collected the surviving Ferals, and continued on.

      I watched him leave with his 'prizes', not stopping to mourn the dead, as I hid. Once he was gone, I left.

------------------------------------------------

      It was perhaps foolish to follow him, after all, he could turn and do to me what had been done to me so many times before. He could also do that and kill me, or just kill me, I reminded myself, But he knows the way, and a pack like that means I'll be safe from the Ferals. Unless they kill his entire pack, then I'm dead anyway, I realized as I followed.

      If I had been more experienced, I would have realized he was pausing during the afternoon, to let me keep up, and didn't want to approach, wanted to let me approach or follow. The argument between the two amazon/Hero types was a subtle example I didn't catch at the time. They'd been exchanging glances, then looking away, exchanging little snipes, then fuming or looking superior, and posing provocatively. One showed off her long legs, stoking them, the other twirling her staff to show her flexibility. Their little show gave me the willies at the time. Finally, the leggy one, probably a -Lee, threw her pack at the staff-girl, probably a -Wu. The two began a fight, but the thrown pack captivated my attention. I'd grown hungry and thirsty in my following, and that pack had food, I'd seen the Lee eating it, and water, in the two large canteens hung from it.

      The bloodcurdling scream from far ahead caused the Tamer and his pack to freeze. Then he ordered them forward. When the Lee complained about her pack, the Tamer barked the order to follow.

      I ignored the sounds of the fight far ahead and concentrated on any sounds of them returning, as I slipped through the brush to get that pack. I returned to a much better hiding place and covered my tracks, then I waited to see how the fight came out. It seemed like hours, and as the sun began to set, I began to worry that they might have left. Then they came back and in the fading twilight, scoured the area, finding neither the pack, nor me. The Lee got considerable ribbing about that, but she grimly ignored it as they pitched their camp for the night.

------------------------------

      The pack was a greater gift than I'd dreamed of. The clothes fit loosely, but would cover me. The rain poncho, ground cover and blanket meant I wouldn't be out in the rain or sleeping on the bare ground. The food was a dense-type obviously designed for travelers, small so a lot could be carried in a small space.

      The maps were the amazing part. There were villages a few days walk from ours! I thought in stunned amazement, Any of us could have simply walked out and been free of the mayor and his tyranny . . . if we'd survived getting through the woods. How many knew? Someone must have talked to the outside world. Why did they stay? Didn't they care about what the mayor was doing?

      I later learned that there were people who hated Pokègirls more than I did, for less reason. Stupidity makes people do stupid, destructive things. Like living away from Pokègirls under the thumb of a human tyrant.

      I hid myself as best I could, and slept the entire night. The mayor, and those allowed access were never subtle about waking us, so I was shocked when I realized I'd slept through the entire night and into the morning. I awoke into a nightmare. Staring at me from only a few feet away, was a Pokègirl. A little taller than me, with light grey skin and darker gray hair. The tip of her wagging tail visible as it peeked out. Worst of all, she was smiling. I couldn't even scream in terror when she touched me. She pressed hard against my forehead and as much as I wanted to scream at the contact and burning, I couldn't. When she pulled her hand back, her grin faded for a moment, and then she vanished, leaving me a shivering, curled-up ball of terror.

      Only another sound, a sound I recognized through my fear, brought me around.

      Dragging the pack on the ground, walking down the road as if she owned it, was the mayor's majordomo. The looked at the bushes and undergrowth lining both sides of the road, calling my name as if I might welcome her presence. I froze, staring at her from my hiding place and hoping that she would neither see nor hear me. She approached, and I couldn't even run away. Her dart gun was holstered at her side, but she periodically touched it, to ensure my capture if she ever got a clear shot.

      She walked within a few feet of my hidey-hole, even looked straight at me, but continued on. Only then did I allow myself to breathe. I do not know how she didn't see me. If I had believed in their goodness, I would have offered a prayer to the gods. But they had put me in that Hellhole in the first place, so I put it down to the enormous debt they already owned me.

      I sat concealed for nearly an hour, hoping that the Pengal had really moved on, rather than holing up somewhere to ambush me. I quietly collected the gear and packed it away. Then I moved out along the trail. My ears strained for any sigh of other people, or any Pokègirls. My eyes searched every shadow and tree for my tormentor's presence, or any other enemy.

      The sound of tears caught my attention. I risked moving off the road and slipped through the underbrush. Sitting in a clearing was a little boy, a little younger than me. His travel torn clothes and numerous bruises and scrapes clearly explained his tears.

      I've got too many of my own troubles, I thought, And too many potential enemies. I slipped back to the road and headed down the path. Near noon, I heard mournful sniffles coming from a little girl in torn fancy dress, seating in the middle of the camp ground I'd hoped to rest and eat my lunch in. She didn't raise her head as I slipped past, hurrying along the road and quietly cursing my luck.

      She was probably a Card Captor, or one of their evolutions, I thought of the mayor's 'Court Magician' and one who performed with the mayor's other favorites, making it clear the age of the mayor's favorite play toys was not accidental.

      At mid-afternoon, at a river crossing, the mute cries of desperate loneliness drew my attention. A clearing showed a sign, somehow emitting the pitiful noises. 'You aren't getting with the program' the sign read.

      Terrific, some Pokègirl has decided I am a charity case, or the latest amusement, I thought, The first one at the clearing was probably some kind of Pokègirl too.

      "I don't want a Pokègirl, I'd rather be eaten by Ferals than have to Tame one," I growled to whatever was listening, then continued my walk towards other humans.

------------------------------

      The fork in the road was neither welcome, nor unwelcome. The lack of distance to the two destinations was extremely unwelcome. Idiot, you have maps, I reminded myself, and began unpacking the map. The nearer . . . no, the majordomo would assume I'd go to the nearer. So would she go to the nearer, and send the mayor's helpers in the other town to search for me? Or would she go to the farther, and let the mayor's agents? I'd given up on the idea that the world knew nothing of the mayor, his predilections, and our isolated little town. My decision made, I headed for the closer town. It seems bigger and as a city it should be larger than a 'town', or our 'village'.

      As I walked, I kept checking over my shoulder, not only for my tormentor, but also for any helpful creatures to be foisted on me by the monster I met who seemed to have decided my travails were worth interfering in. There were none today. I grew more wary. If I haven't convinced her I'm not playing, then she could just be getting more subtle. I wasn't looking forward to matching wits with a trickster from my village, let alone one from the wider world.

      Stunned amazement doesn't cover what I felt on spotting the city. A rise brought into view some of the nearer structures, and more vanishing into the haze. The idea of a collection of structures that I couldn't see the end of was staggering. Nothing could be that large! I thought as I tried to strain to see the other end, and failed. What I could see dwarfed my imaginings of what human habitation could actually be.

      It was late afternoon before I actually made it to the edge of the city. And now I was struck with a dilemma. I doubt they'll allow camping in the city proper, and I doubt any of the mayor's money would have any value outside.

      I walked towards the city. The lack of walls and other obvious defenses struck me as foolish, although the walls such a place would require would be staggering in cost. What also struck me was nearly every wagon and passerby in the entire place. If I was invisible, I wouldn't be treated like this!

      I managed to make it into what looked like a street, but smelled like an open cesspit. No vehicles tried to run me down here, and there were no pedestrians trying to walk through the noisome stench ground into the place. I won't have to worry about eating, if I stay in this place, I thought, I wouldn't be able to stomach anything. The odd iron railing that led to the roof of one of the taller buildings attracted my attention. A bit of climbing had me creeping up the railing, trying to avoid noise to alert the occupants that someone was outside their homes. They'd probably shoot me as a robber, I thought as I climbed. At the top, the roof was mostly flat, and people had set up laundry lines, and even a few small gardens. Drag dirt up a hundred feet, and use it to grow flowers, I thought as I looked at the garden, then froze as I spotted the garden's guardian. I backed away from the green-skinned, garlanded girl, who looked around. Her gaze passed over me, and looked for more aggressive thieves or vandals. At least she doesn't consider me a threat. I went over to the far side of the roof and rested. Even rolled out my ground cover in a shady spot to get a nap under the sky.

------------------------------

      My nap becomes a sleep that lasts into the chill of the night. I drag a blanket out of my pack and only then awaken completely as I realize I'm not out in the woods. I'm sitting atop a building full of people! My initial joy at that thought vanishes, as I realize, And what makes you think that a kid with no right to be there won't be treated the way the mayor treated intruders into his territory?

      The possibility of being publically eviscerated galvanized me into action, and then forced my initial panic to subside. I pack quietly, and try to figure out how I am going to escape the trap I've walked into. Other sounds around me warn me that leaping to another building is not even an acceptable alternative. The cries of rough sex were familiar enough to me that I recognized it instantly. Not my problem, I reminded myself as I crossed the roof and tried to locate the railing that led to the ground. She's a Pokègirl, you don't know if she deserves it, or even likes it. They wouldn't help you, why should you risk getting captured or killed?

      I made my way to the ground without setting off any of the Pokègirls or humans who lived in the building. The narrow street is as evil-smelling as I remember it. The dead body is new. The woman might have been pretty, before someone or something cut her up. Her purse lay near enough for me to spot it. While distasteful, I knew that money would be a little use to her, and I needed local currency. A pair of gloves were part of the kit, I put them on before rifling through the purse. The bills and coins were different from anything I recognized, fortunately, the denominations were printed on the currency. I put the purse back and headed out into the night.

      The horror of seeing the mayor's majordomo on the opposite side of the street nearly made me scream in terror and frustration. The darkness of the narrow road hid me, and I froze until she had walked out of sight. The lamp posts threw evenly spaced pools of light on the ground. She had walked into and out of darkness. Dread that she'd step into darkness and reverse course, or just turn and shoot me ate at my certainty. Once I knew she was out of sight, I realized she could have circled around behind me. Run! my instincts screamed, Don't run, walk, but walk fast! a more rational portion of mine mind chided. I took the advice and marched swiftly out of the road and around the few people out in the darkness. I'd seen enough of the functionaries walking as if their job was the most important thing in the world. I duplicated their pace and ground passed by under my feet. I passed a police station and humorlessly wondered if I could report the mayor and his staff to the authorities here. Sure, and then the local potentate will know about the little troublemaker. What do you think will happen next? I'm over my excursion into humor and on my way. A better question is what am I going to eat, and do I have the food . . . and luck, to reach the next town?

      I stepped under one of the lampposts and pull the map. The nearest town is at least a week's walk away. I'm not that lucky.

      People ignoring me isn't any fun either, I thought as I dodged more of the idiots who lived her, who seemed oblivious to anyone around them.

      One restaurant, or more like a lunch counter, was open. I headed over to that, to get some food, rather than what was in my pack. I almost froze again as I looked at who was the late night cook. The winged Pokègirl turned her nearly sightless eyes at me. Zubutts were one of the few Pokègirls that everyone in town thought were malevolent pests. The idea of eating food prepared by one almost sent me back out into the night. A moment later, my decision to avoid the local police was confirmed. A fat, loud slob who would have fit into the mayor's court nearly walked over me. The Growlie who followed him sniffed the area, but stayed close to her Master. The fat cop empties the small basket labeled 'Tips' of the small collection of bills and coins. Predictably, the Growlie showed no reaction to the petty thievery. The Zubutt stared levelly, but also remained silent. She just handed over the greasy paper bag, and accepted back most of her tip money and rang up the sale. The two protectors of the public walked back out and into the darkness.

      "You're smart to see nothing. Little thing like you would find him, unpleasant," the Zubutt said.

      I shuddered, but decided maybe the food would be acceptable. Then I looked at the incredible prices, until I realized, The prices are in pennies, not bucks.

      I considered the menu, and what would probably be safe.

      "Are you a boy or a girl?" the Zubutt asked.

      Does it matter? I wanted to ask in return. I ordered some soup, and bread.

      "Where's your Pokègirls? You can let them out here."

      Again I ignored her question, eating quietly.

      "If you don't feel like talking - "

      "If I felt like talking, I would have said something," I told her.

      Why do you think I didn't attract the cop's attention? I avoided shouting, finishing the soup.

      "I'll make you a deal. Tomorrow, breakfast is free, if you'll do a job?" she asked hopefully.

      I tried to ignore the aspects of a job a Pokègirl might want and simply asked, "Yes?"

      "I can't read, not like you can. I've got a bunch of boxes in the stock room that the labels fell off of. You relabel them, and keep your mouth shut, and whatever's on the menu is free, except the whole menu."

      I realized the raised letters and numbers of the menu over the counter she could read, but not words printed on paper. "Agreed."

      "The local Pokècenter is down the street. It's more a dorm with a few healing machines, not a full service center, but you can get a private room." She scribbled something on a business card. "June's a good kid, just don't tell her any problems. She'll try to - help. And I'm guessing you don't want that. Also. Lock the door and wedge your pack against it. There's been a problem with kids pranking the Tamers."

      "Thank you," I told her, and considered following her advice about using the center.

      The card could bypass the Tamer questions, I thought, Weird, why'd she want to help me?

      The Pokècenter was a small building, and the Megami on duty looked younger than I was.

      I presented the card. "The Zubutt restaurant - owner suggested I could get a private room, with a lock."

      "Running from something?" she asked, "If you want to talk about it?"

      "Running to," I told her, "It's better."

      Why tell her anything? Because she'll pry if I don't, I argued with myself. I got the key and read the number. Squeezing past people sleeping on the floor, I reached the room. Unlock, inside, and relock, and I wedged my pack against the door of the room that was little more than an oversized closet. But something will have to rip the door off its hinges to get at me. My sleep was untroubled by the bad dreams that had been my constant companion for years.