When I dreamed of a different world, this was not the place that I dreamed of. When I created a mental me to walk through the worlds in my head, the worlds were not like this one. Fantasy is one thing, but the reality can be quite different.
I was only ever an indifferent member of the pokegirl community. I registered on the forums, read everything I could find, but rarely if ever commented on anything. Sometimes, when I had read a bit too much, I did wonder what it would be like to be there, to be a Tamer, to have a harem. I wondered which league would be the best, the one that was the analogue to my country, or the one that would allow me to indulge my love of professional wrestling. Or maybe some new and exciting. It certainly beat thinking about my day job and the realities of my life.
But that's all it was. Dreams, nothing more. Despite what my parents thought about me, I still had my feet on the ground. I knew the different between reality and fantasy and I was content with the reality that I had.
That changed one autumn morning.
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The sun was hardly up, and the air was still cold. She was well wrapped up in a leather coat as she wandered down the path at the side of the road. Her eyes weren't focused yet, mostly because of the early time, and partly because of the ear buds and her cheap mp3 player.
There was no traffic on her small side road, but the occasional car flashed by on the main road, the engine noise muted by the distance. Only when a lorry or a tractor went by was there a change. Staring at the ground, her head absently nodding to the beat, Isabel didn't look up as her feet traced the same old familiar path down to the bus stop.
There was grass there, she noted absently. The council must have been to cut it. And there was the cow muck. The farmer must have shifted the herd again. Shame he didn't fit the cows with nappies, since they appeared to be badly incontinent. Even the rain from last night hadn't shifted it. Mind you, she was glad that he moved them when she wasn't walking. She didn't really fancy being caught in the middle of the herd on foot. Bad enough in a car.
The bus stop wasn't in the best condition. The perspex roof was mouldy, the concrete walls were chipped, and the brambles were taking over. But at least it provided some shelter from the rain and the wind. Isabel stepped partly inside, making sure that none of the resident spiders were performing any aerial acrobatics this morning. Since nothing jumped on her head, she turned her attention back to the road.
Isabel found her foot twitching back and forward as Black Stone Cherry began to sing about the need to blame things on the boom boom. A pick-up whizzed by, the collie on the back alternating from side to side, peering over the edge. One of the lorries from the quarry nearby rumbled past, filled with rubble. No bus.
A damp splat of rain flashed before her eyes before spotting onto the pavement. Isabel sighed at the vagrancies of the Northern Irish weather, and looked up at the sky. The clouds looked no greyer than usual and there was no blue in sight. In for the day then. But the grey seemed to be getting closer, and darkening as it came. She blinked, wondering just what her vision was playing at this morning and wondering if it was how the side effects of sleep deprivation started.
Then everything went black.
There was pain. It wasn't a sharp pain, just a dull ache that pressed against the inside of her skull and at the base of her neck. Something warm was running down from her forehead, and she could feel it trickling over her eyelids. Her hands were flat against a metal surface, and it was chilly against her stomach and thighs. She was naked.
She wondered why this didn't bother her more.
There was warm air blowing in from somewhere. It felt nice against her back. It moved up and down her skin in smooth, uncaring strokes. It seemed to pause on her hips.
Was it a hand?
She wondered why this didn't bother her more.
There were voices, but it sounded as it they were talking from quite a distance away. She tried to focus in one what they were saying, and slowly, she could start to make out the words.
“....go so wrong?”
“ We did everything right!”
“Apparently not right enough, Suilan. Or else we'd have what we wanted on that table.”
“I don't understand it, Mabell. I checked the figures twice, and Domino checked them again.”
Suilan sounded whiny. Mabell sounded bored.
“A Titto. After all the time and effort that we put into this project, your incompetence only manages to bring us a Titto.”
“I don't understand,”
“Well, you'd better,” and Mabell's voice turned harsh, “get an understanding when you explain this to the Mistress. You know she does not tolerate failure.”
The coldness of the metal was starting to get more uncomfortable now, and the pain in her skull was increasing. Pain began to flare in her joints. This was starting to worry her, as the lassitude that had engulfed her was starting to fade. The wind stroking up and down her spine started to whisper to her, telling her not to worry, that everything was alright, to just relax and let things happen. It was soothing, quite hypnotic, but also commanding.
Isabel didn't like being commanded. She had to put up with enough bossy types at work. That was right, she had a name. She had a job. So why was she lying naked on a metal table? Why was there a female voice telling her to stay down and to stay quiet? Why was she even listening to it?
She opened her eyes slowly, blinking against the sudden rush of white, sterile light. The metal table was dull steel, scored with marks, some scratches deeper than others. She twitched her fingers, feeling the pins and needles feeling start to fade, although the pain in her wrists remained. The voice started to whisper louder, droning in her ears, muttering on and on about remaining passive and quiet.
Bugger that. Isabel didn't know what was going on, but lying naked on a table wasn't going to find out. She twitched her ankles, feeling the left one crack as it was prone to do when she had been lying around for a while. Not too bad. Sore, but moveable. Now it was time to do something about actually getting up, despite what the voice was telling her.
The voice really was getting quite annoying now. It was stopping her from remembering just why she was on a table. Those sorts of memories would be quite important, she would have thought. Having a name and knowing about a job weren't exactly essential items compared to knowing what she was doing here, wherever here was. And something about that thought make her stomach burn. Wherever here was. By the feel of things, it was somewhere she wasn't meant to be.
Suddenly, everything in her head went quiet. There was no voice whispering to her any more. There was only a strong sense of danger, of immediate danger, and the need to lie down and stay still. There was a feeling of satisfaction wrapped in tightly, with just a hint of frustration. That was odd.
Isabel let herself go limp again. She trusted her instincts. True, she thought that she usually wasn't quite as good at reading emotions as it appeared she was, but when something shouted danger, it seemed best to listen to it.
There was a hissing noise, barely heard over the sound of the arguing voices. It sounded like Mabell and Suilan were getting shouty with each other, and that third voice must belong to the other name. Domino. They didn't appear to notice the hissing, or the drifting specks of powder that were starting to come into view. They were rather pretty, sparkling green and yellow and purple and white.
Although she was fairly sure that the table shouldn't be testing its legs. Tables weren't meant to walk, and she was definitely sure that they weren't meant to be trying to do the Macarena. She giggled to herself as the specks of dust covered her again.
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Whatever she was lying on now was certainly warmer than the table. Well, she thought that she was lying on it. It was rather tricky to determine what was going on, as her body appeared to be missing. That did bother her. Although the fact that even if she didn't currently have a head, she was still able to think was comforting.
The ache in her head (or where she thought her head should be), was mostly gone now. All around her was red energy, swirling and dancing. It felt like it was part of her, if not the entirety of her. Isabel knew that she should be thinking better than she was, that she should probably be panicking about now, but the fuzziness in her head made it quite hard to. It was easier to go along with things as they were and try and work out what was going on, rather than having a screaming breakdown, which she suspected would be on the cards.
After all, it wasn't every day that you were turned into red energy and stuck in what appeared to be a fishtank. Beyond her, behind distorted glass that was tinted with red and with white, stretched a room. It wasn't the same room she had been in before, since there was a distinct lack of any metal table. Instead there was a counter-top, on which leaned a bored looking woman with bright pink hair. She was filling out some papers attached to a clipboard, and was dressed in a neat nurse's uniform.
'Odd,' Isabel thought to herself, as she tried to poke at the glass.
The door to the left of the counter opened, and a dark-haired man stepped in. He wore a uniform, slightly soiled with dirt and what could be smoke stains. Behind him was a humanoid cat, white striped fur, muscles, and a scowl on her face.
'No clothes,' was the first thought that came to Isabel.
“Corporal Jameson, how can I help you?”The pink haired woman straightened up.
“The Titto we captured during the raid is needed for questioning,”the man said. The woman nodded.
“She's been healed and run through a level one conditioning cycle. What are you going to do if she's feral?”
“What do you think?”The man smirked, and the cat behind him growled quietly. Isabel didn't like the look of the cat at all. Normally she liked cats.
“Captain Doherty is standing by to scan her,”the cat explained. The woman nodded in understanding.
Everything seemed to wobble and shift as the pink-haired woman picked up the tinted fish tank that held her, and handed it to the military man. They didn't appear to be concerned with the red gas that was herself, and the man calmly held the tank and exited the room.
Isabel didn't pay attention to the route the man took; instead she was trying to sort through her memory to figure out what was going on. There was something about this situation that tugged at her memory, and if the clouds of fluff in her head would just start to give way, then it might all just make sense again.
Funny, the only thing that she could think about was the solider carrying her and what he might look like with his clothes off.
Hmm.
It didn't take them long to arrive in other room, through a maze of dull grey corridors. There were two others present in the room. One was a man with more decorations than chest, face slightly flabby. Beside him was something orange. With antenna.
'I should know what that is,' Isabel mused to herself, even as the man carrying her saluted. The cat took up a position beside him, before he pressed his thumb to the side of her fishtank.
She swirled free of the container, and felt her body condensing all around her. Her aches and pains flared back to life, even as she felt her arms gripped tightly by the white cat woman. The eyes of the orange creature flashed, and Isabel felt her knees go weak. She opened her mouth to ask what the hell was going on, but couldn't quite make her vocal cords make anything other than an inquisitive noise. The orange creature stared at her, frowning as blood began to ooze from her nose.
“I can't pick anything up from her, sir. It's like she's not there.”
“Nothing at all?”
“Nothing, sir.”
Isabel twitched her shoulders, and felt the white cat grip tighter. She twisted as best she could to look at the man who had brought her here, and stared at him. Slowly, he started to smile.
“I'm getting strong feelings of desire,” the orange creature said, confusion in her voice. “But that's all.”
“With your permission, sir,”the man asked.
“It looks like the only way we'll get information out of her. Go ahead, Captain.”
Isabel found herself frogmarched out of the room by the white cat, and away through the maze again. That didn't bother her. Her eyes were fixed to the back of the man that led the way. His scent trailed to her now, smoky and burnt. Desire for him was starting to curl inside her, and even though she wasn't quite sure why this was happening, it was something she was going to go along with.
The room that she was led to was a simple dormitory style room, neat and clean. The cat pushed her through, and held onto her arms, looking pleadingly at the man. He laughed, and the cat dissolved in red light. Her arms free, Isabel stretched, before stepping in close to hug the man, wrapping her arms around him. She snuggled her head into his neck, and exhaled in contentment. She felt his hands slide round her naked back and down to grip her rear. Pleasure surged through her, and every thought left her head completely. There was nothing but heat, pressure, and pleasure.
And in the instant that she felt him tighten, and heard his breathing hitch, reality shot back hard into her mind. Everything clicked into place in a blazing flash of white light that seared through her heart and soul. Isabel screamed in pleasure/pain as her own orgasm ripped through her again, and her head cleared of the fuzz that had gripped her.
She felt power fill her, and felt her body stretch and start to change. The eyes of her partner, Mark Jameson, opened wide as her mind impacted on his. Isabel knew that she was draining him of his life force, draining him and changing herself. Slowly, Mark's eyes sagged closed and he slumped down, unconscious, breathing shallowly. She stood, naked, in his form, his memories swirling round her head, ready for her to access.
He was a member of the Blue League Security Force. Frost was his only pokegirl, and she could not see or leave her own pokeball. He was not expected to report back till the morning. He knew the way out. He had been part of a team assigned to raid the premises of Sanctuary Goth spies and arrest them, with information given by the author, Kerrik Wolf.
Pokegirl. From standing sleepily at the bus stop, she was now on the pokegirl world. Kerrik Wolf, author. Sanctuary Goths.
She was a pokegirl.
The Sanctuary Goth's had said they had summoned her. They were the ones that had brought her to this world. But they hadn't expected her to threshold as she came.
She was a Titto.
She had been yanked from her own world, transformed against her will, taken by the BLSF, and was probably meant to be interrogated.
She had been feral, hadn't she? And she had just been tamed out of it.
Isabel stopped her racing thoughts, and took a deep breath. Panicking here and now was not going to do her any good. Panicking later would be better.
“I've got to get out of here,” she said, in Mark's voice. She was only a reader of the pokegirl stories, and never wrote anything except the odd drabble that she kept to herself. If anything, she was prepped theoretically. First of all, she had to find out where she was, and get out of this place. Being in the centre of the BLSF base, with a naked and unconscious man on the bed was not the best idea.
First thing, she had to get clothes. The locker on the wall provided another neatly pressed uniform, and Isabel put it on, trying not to stare at the male body that she now wore. She didn't even have to maintain concentration on it, the inbuilt instincts of the Titto that she was seemed to know exactly what to do.
Clothes sorted, it was time to try and exit. Mark knew all the passwords, but Isabel couldn't think of a logical reason that he would be trying to leave the base at this time of night. The only hope that she had was to use his body to get to the exit, try and bluff her way outside, and then run. She didn't want to be part of a harem of a military member. To be truthful, she didn't want to be a harem member at all, but as she was now a pokegirl, it seemed inevitable.
Rather than let her thoughts get carried away again, Isabel concentrated, smoothed her uniform, and stepped out of the room. The clock on the wall told her that it was 11.00, hopefully that was evening. By the mental map that Mark had, the base wasn't as twisted as she had initially thought. He had deliberately gone a longer route just to throw her off, in case she was masquerading at being feral. And that route went past several security stations so that if she did flee that way, she was sure to be caught. Not to mention that there was nothing essential that way. Smart man.
In fact, her nearest exit was right, left and then right again, to a fire door that creaked as she opened it. The air outside was cool, quiet and dark, and Isabel stepped outside with a feeling of relief. Part one was over, time for part two. She turned her head and looked up at the stars, picking out the constellations that she was familiar with. It seemed strange that the stars that shone down on her at home where the same as here. Unless this was all some weird practical joke dreamed up by a TV show with more budget than braincells. But that wouldn't explain her ability.
She smiled at the sight of the Plough. Her guiding star. First constellation that she learned the name of, and learned how to spot. She just hoped that the fact that it was hanging overhead now would be a lucky omen.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, trying to settle down. “Out of the base, check. There's bound to be sentries so best bet is to wander around looking like I'm on guard duty till I get near a way out, and then run like buggery. That sounds like I'm trying to get myself killed,”she sighed. “Don't have the time to come up with a scheme worthy of Machiavelli. Or over think things till I give myself a headache. Walk, then run.”
She took a quick look around. She was standing at a door at the rear of a three storey building that towered over everything else. Straight ahead of her was a long, low building, sitting in a line of four others. Beyond that was something that glinted, which could be a fence. To her right was an open parade ground, to the left, more buildings.
She let the instincts of Mark take over and stepped out, heading for the glint that she had caught. She tried not to clench her teeth as she left the shadow of the building and entered the open ground. She walked casually, calmly, trying to control the thudding of her heart. While she thought that any pokegirl that caught her scent would think that she was Mark, she wasn't sure if any of them would be able to pick up her nervousness as well.
She wrinkled her nose as she picked up the smell of gas and oil from the building that she was approaching. Apparently, it was the garage for whatever vehicles this department of the BLSF had. At least being in the alley between the two buildings concealed her again. She walked on down the alley till just before the end, where she stopped, pressed herself against the brickwork, and peered around.
There was a fence there, ten feet high, thick steel chain and barbed wire. There was open, cleared ground beyond it for one hundred metres, and then the undergrowth and small bushes started again. What might have been the figure of a watchman stood at the back of the building next to hers, about fifty metres away. The wind was blowing towards her, so at least she was upwind of him.
She hadn't actually thought that she would get this far, that someone would come and check on Mark. She knew that he had disobeyed when he had put his Tigress back in her pokeball. He was supposed to have kept her out, but apparently he had been that confident in his taming prowess that he hadn't considered the fact that she would try and escape from him. Thank god that she had got the BLSF man that still thought with his dick, and forgot about operational security.
She let herself slide back into her own form, feeling Mark's clothes hanging heavy on her frame. She certainly wasn't as broad as he was, and the clothes looked rather funny. That didn't really matter though, as she started to strip out of them, leaving them in a pile to confuse things.
Naked again, and starting to shiver, Isabel crouched on the ground, and started to concentrate. Pokegirls were not part of her world, she had never seen one until now. She had never seen the pokegirl that she was trying to change into, but she had certainly read enough about them. She only hoped that this was the right way to go about things.
Her own height of just under six foot didn't have to be changed, but she felt a rush of heat wash over her skin as it darkened down to black. Her hair spiralled around her face, the black washing out into a deep, crimson red. There was no pain as she changed, just odd squishy feelings from within as different organs moved around. As best she could, she repeated the information about Nightmares that she could remember from the Pokedex.
It took her a moment to figure out how to switch into a tauric form. Then she stopped.
“I have a tail,” she said softly, turning her upper body to stare at her backside. She giggled as it twitched. “I've got an actual tail!”
But staring at her own backside wasn't going to get her out of this place. There was one reason and one reason alone that she had chosen the Nightmare to morph into. Because they could use phase. Possibly there were other pokegirls that could, but this was the first one that jumped into her mind. That and the fact that hopefully four legs would be faster than her own human two.
She rested her hand on the cool concrete.
“Phase. Phase. Phase. Phase.”
With each repetition, she tapped her fingers on the concrete, trying to focus on passing her hand through it. On the fourth repetition, her hand slipped through the concrete. Immediately, she bolted into action, charging out into the open towards the fence. It took her a moment to figure out how to move on four legs and where to hold her arms, and for a heart-stopping moment she thought that she was going to crash down hard on her face.
She recovered her stride as the startled shout from the sentry echoed in the quiet air. She didn't respond to his challenge, and felt a bullet whizz through her intangible form, followed by a fireball from a Charmelons. The fence approached and she gathered herself and leapt, passing through near the top of the fence. She tried to accelerate once she hit the cleared ground, heading for the undergrowth. If she could get the chance, she would try and hide like a feral Titto, disguising herself as a bush or a tree.
Instead she found her intangible hooves rising into the air as she galloped onwards, spiralling up into the sky. Isabel couldn't help but giggle maniacally. As the lights of the base faded below her, the shouts died away and the night swallowed her, she didn't care that she was a stranger in a strange world. She didn't care that she wore the form of something fictional, that she herself was no longer human. Instead she exulted at her freedom, however temporary it might be. There would be time later to take stock of things, time later to think and to wonder.
For now, she flew.