Hatterene Story Thing

"Get the wanker! Use psychic!"
Seras strained as she manifested a potent charge of mind made material, the dust beneath her floating from the otherworldy discharge.
The hulking scizor barely flinched as the arcane energy struck, crackling futilely as it dissipated against ferrous shell.
The opposite trainer yelled out his own command,
Scizor weren't quick by any means, weighed down as they were by their thick chitin. But she wasn't either, and she knew that well.
The first blow she barely dodged, telekinetically yanking herself from its reach, the vicious haymaker parting the air where seconds before her head had been.
Away from any trainers orders, Seras struck out viciously with her clawed tentacle, only to meet the unflinching surface of one of those pincers, parried with the heavy grace of a boxer against her frantic swipe.
The scizor took the opening to strike out with its left claw, a darting jab which caught her where her sternum ought to have been. She wheezed, but drew back, psychically carrying herself twenty feet back, as the scizor reoriented its heavy frame.
She prepared a final, desparate emanation of psychic and fairy energy, hedging on the ability of its sheer force to overcome her .
The scizor saw her actions, realised their implication, and bolted towards her, wings flapping to give thrust, as it tried to close the distance before she could release her payload.
If she hadn't been winded, she might just have.
As she neared the peak of release, a tremendous as the claw shot out with a heaping blow, and struck deep into her body. Carried by forward momentum and meeting no resistance, it gouged through the entirety of her midsection in one swift blow.
Nigel cried out as her body was split cleanly in half, The lower half collapsed, sickeningly corpselike in its stillness, whereas the top half remained floating a few lead-heavy seconds, a look of shock on its features as it plummeted face-down.
The scizor withdrew, panic clear in its compound eyes as it stared in horror down at its claws. Curiously, neither blood, ichor or other fluids stained them.
"Oh blimey, did we kill 'er!" The rival trainer dashed to them, fear and concern in his voice.
"Oh nah, nah mate, I don't think you did. Just push off a sec" Nigel rushed to her side, shooing away the other trainer, before kneeling down beside her.
Strangely, the fallen form of the Hatterene did not act as expected.
No blood or viscera leaked from the body, despite its supposed mutilation. On closer examination, the reason was clear.
It was hair. Or rather, the fibrous fairy-floss coloured equivalent from which her looming form had been largely comprised. Great amounts of it, equivalent to the mass of any human, lay limp in clumps where Seras had fallen. A slight mound formed in its center, from which poked the tip of her characteristic hat.
Nigel frantically parted the tufts about her before settling his hands around a solid form, and gently pulling it from the mound of hair.
He breathed a sigh of relief. She was fine.
She would be pissed when she woke, however.

It was later that day. Having recovered from their unfortunate defeat, Nigel and Sera had continued on their way, him having lost a few hundred dollars, her - near enough to the majority of her hair. It now fluttered restlessly about her ankles, its lessened weight a constant reminder of her shame.
Seras fumed as she hovered about his head, making sure to let him know her feelings of malcontent as she huffed dramatically.
Bloody idiot.
Sending her out against a steel type - what exactly had he been thinking? Granted, he hadn't any other pokemon, but still -
"You're angry we lost, are you? Well oi'm not sure wot you want me to 'bout it, eh?"
Nigel's voice came out vaguely confrontational. He wasn't happy he'd lost, either. It carried an accent which left no doubt to his (and her) Galarian origins. Did she have an accent like that? Could Pokemon, even? She wasn't entirely sure.
She still pouted, floating about him in a continuous orbit.
"It was a steel 'toipe. None of your psychic or fairy tricks would of had much of a shot at punching through that."
The Hatterene glowered at him. That wasn't the point.
"Oh, then what's the bother?" He stopped then, "Come on, do tell?"
"This, this is the matter" She exclaimed in her inhuman tongue, gesturing down at her body. Not that he'd understand her words, but it felt nice to yell. when frustrated.
Where once she had stood a looming shape taller than any man, given regal shape by the twisted fibres of her hair, now floated her true body, which barely reached above his knee. Her body as it was was revealed now was soft, with an oversized head above a featureless torso and digitless limbs.
She still floated at her original height, as if to regain a modicum of dignity.
His face softened. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Right bugger it is that you've lost your hair, know how much effort you put into it. I'd be proper mad if someone tried to shave. Or it'd be more loike stealing me jacket, wouldn't it, cause you wear it 'bout you-self, eh?"
A silence passed between them, as if he expected her to laugh.
"But it's just hair innit? Oughta grow back, roight?"
She growled below her breath. He was "roight". It'd be a month, or so. Creatures made mostly of hair tended to grow it back rather quick, wouldn't you know.
Didn't make their loss any less humiliating. Or her sudden loss of dignity.

Over the time they'd been arguing, or rather him arguing and her making appropriately frustrated expressions, she'd slowly begun to inch closer to him, in a purely confrontational way.
At that, she noticed something odd about his appearance and expressions, the shorter their respective distance became.
He refused to make eye contact with her - rather, he refused to look at her entirely.
Whether it was the sky, road, or great armies of trees to either side, his eyes flitted nervously in every direction but hers.
She thought it was just a matter of him being too afraid to admit his fault in their loss, too cowardly to look her in the eye and admit he'd been the cause of her lost hair. Seemed on course for his personality. Fucking Nigel.
Then she focused on his other features. The intentional set of his jaw, as his teeth clenched inside. The worming rise of heat to his cheeks with every minute slip of his gaze to her
She wasn't a Mind-taster, like her Gardevoir and Indeedee brethren so specialised in, but even she could feel the latent psychic... something coming from him.

Realisation was slow to come to her, but when it did, it hit like a brick; it was this new body of hers.
Well, same body as always, but her true body, not the hair-forged facade she'd had ever since her evolution.
He'd never actually seen it before, had he?
He had showed curiosity in what lay under her shroud before, but she had dissuaded him from that line of inquiry. Firmly.
She supposed in a way, her form wasn't altogether dissimilar to that of the female humans, in the same way a Gardevoir or Gothitelle might be considered such.
Her gender was evident in the soft curves which outlined her form, pale skin made paler from lack of sunlight. Far shorter than any human, certainly, but she possessed every bit the smoothness and figure of one.
A faint reflection on humans and their tendency to wear clothes came to mind; not just that, but an answer.
Was that why he wouldn't look at her?
Sainted Keldeo, it was, wasn't it?
Surprise was her first emotion. Following that shock. A lick of something else she couldn't quite discern, or didn't want to.
Then, a litany of mischievous thoughts. the sort only a fairy type as herself could come up with.
If he was going to be like this, so grumpy and unable to admit his fault, why couldn't she have a little fun with him?

Seras waited a quarter-hour before her first attempt.
She moved closer to him, as he rambled on about the inherent special defense imbalance in Psychic-Steel matchups, in a way seemingly meant to distract himself more than her.
She stopped suddenly in front of him, forcing him to come to a halt, nose inches from her naked form. His eyes boggled as they unwittingly scanned every inch of her. She didn't need to be a Mindtaster to see the surprise and panic in his eyes. And for just a flinch, a flicker behind the pupils, that glow belonging to the more masculine sensibilities.
"Sainted Keldeo! What is it? And, uh, could you, uh, cu-could you stop that?"
He stammered, reeling back from her, face afire, from embarrassment, and something else.
She tilted her head innocently. Stop What? her expression seemed to tell, as she moved her hands to her hips, in such a way as to exaggerate them. Had she breasts, she might have jutted them for added affect.
He stammered, but didn't offer any continuation. That would mean explaining - and Arceus knows he didn't want to do that, to tell her just why staring at her made him flushed and nervous.
She pulled back as he stomped past her, muttering under his breath, and she followed gaily, smirking to herself.
This was a fun game.

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Pub: 10 Jan 2023 06:51 UTC

Edit: 11 Jan 2023 04:08 UTC

Views: 260