Whipping Back Into Action

Prelude – Mist, Walls, and an Invitation

It was a foggy Wednesday morning.
A postbus wound its way up the mountain along the winding country road, its post horn sounding every other harsh bend to alarm oncoming traffic of its presence.
You've always liked looking out the window and gawking at the landscape while riding the bus. It's a bummer that the weather decided to be grey this morning.
Instead of seeing the Alps in their usual morning glow, you saw a pale, purple ermine visage in the windows reflection lazily looking back at you.
Its narrow, maroon-coloured eyes were mocking you...
A testament to what became of you six weeks ago.
You dwelt on your reflection for another few seconds, watching your yellow-tipped whiskers gently oscillating with the movement of the postbus.
The post horn sounded and everyone and everything shifted to the right as the bus was turning left. The fog behind the window gave way to the grey retaining wall.

You let out a quiet sigh and looked down at the letter sitting on your lap.
However, your legs were the focus of your attention.
They were now too short to reach the floor. Instead, they dangled like children's legs just beyond the edge of the chair.
You used to be a proud two metres tall, but now you measured a measly 147 centimetres.
You loathed your newfound dwarfism the most.
As the experience wasn't dehumanising enough, your feet certainly added insult to injury.
Each foot was adorned by three long claws, sharp enough to tear through a bag, or a duvet while sleeping.
You forced your eyes away from your grotesque form, back to the letter in your lap.
It bore the insignia of the army and was dated two weeks ago. It arrived one week after you filled out that government form to get financial aid for turned humans.
The government was quick to act if it wanted something from you.
God forbid if you needed something from them, though. You still hadn't seen a single penny and had to live off your savings.
You were fortunate enough to not be living hand-to-mouth.
But this letter was different.
It was from Christophe, your former platoon leader when you were a sergeant.
While you just did your militia service and the accompanying refresher courses, he became a career officer.
It seemingly paid off for him, as he recently got promoted to help the commander of the recruitment centre in Turnegg.
He had been tasked to look into possible hybrid platoons to incorporate turned humans — the military calls them "Affligés" for some reason, like you were cursed by the pestilence itself...
You heard the post horn again, followed by a hard turn to the right. Everyone on board shifted to the left. You saw the foggy nothingness again.

... Anyway, guess it was Chris' lucky day when he saw your dossier on his desk.
He invited you to go through the recruitment process again to determine whether you would be suitable for the role of instructor for the hybrid platoon.
The examination would include some sports tests and a physical and mental health check-up. The same things you already had to go through back when you were a recruit a decade ago.
As you were already an NCO, there was no need for you to take the leadership and psychological tests, though.
Not that you were able to anyway. Your paws surprisingly sucked for typing on a keyboard.
You only had three fingers on each paw. Not having a proper thumb was just the icing on the cake.
You were still able to grasp things – admittedly a small consolation, considering your overall situation.
Your lost dexterity had also led you to fill out that form in the first place. You no longer were able to work as a software engineer, after all.
Another horn. Another shift to the right. Another grey brick in the wall.

Even though it was the military, you actually enjoyed your service.
There always was something new to do, and you could experiment with your leadership style without fear of being fired.
The way you carried yourself with the soldiers went down well with the rest of the platoon, which was why Chris made you his deputy.
You two became really close friends after that, even outside of the armed forces.
He trusted you with basically anything. In turn, he had kept you out of trouble and defended you when you couldn't stop yourself again from speaking out of line against the staff officers' bullshit orders.
Your decision was an obvious one. The offer was simply too irresistible given your situation. So you effectively accepted Chris' offer on the spot.
Ever since the first humans turned into Pokémon a few months ago, you wanted to help in any capacity possible.
It was a strange kind of win-win in a way. Perhaps it was fate's strange way of telling you that you could help after all?
Besides, you were eager to see Chris again. Several years had passed since the last time you two saw each other. The military academy had taken up all his free time.

You slid the letter back into its envelope, stowed it in your daypack, then put the pack down in the space in front of your seat.
The small bag was standard issue with the army's personal equipment. It had just enough space to fit most of your important stuff.
Since you didn't need clothes anymore, the space it provided was more than enough for the next two days.
What had once only existed in your nightmares had now become a bitter reality. Leaving your home without putting on clothes was certainly an unpleasant experience.
The first few outings were agonising. You immediately started wearing a dark purple scarf around your long neck as compensation to avoid feeling too exposed.
Subsequent trips were easier, probably partly due to that little voice in the back of your head.
The news and other turnees considered the voices to be the soul of the original Pokémon.
If true, either the little voice pouts at you for taking its body hostage, or it wouldn't care and simple nudge you in the right direction occasionally. You were just hoping it was the latter, because you already had more than enough on your plate.

One more horn resounded from the bus. The waltz continued its dance to the left.
But this time, there was no fog.
Instead, the mist slowly but surely gave way to a panorama even Van Gogh could only dream of.
It was enough to snap you out of your reverie.
A veil of pearly-white mist stretched before you; beyond that, the Alps were ablaze in scarlet.
You couldn't help yourself, but smile a little.
"Guess the journey paid off just for that," you thought to yourself.

Some of the other passenger also seemed to notice the vista, as you heard some chatter and saw a few pointing fingers.
Most took just a quick glance at the burning grace.
Everyone, except a young man with dark brown hair and glasses in front of you.
He was preoccupied with his phone until the man beside him ― you assumed he was his friend ― tapped him on the shoulder, jolting him awake.
In shock, he dropped his smartphone in your direction.
The little voice suddenly jumped into action.
You leaned towards the glass sandwich to catch it. You captured the device between both your paws and saved it from a terrible fate on the bus floor.
Unfortunately, your reflexes weren't quick enough to save you from the handrail, which was now firmly pressing against your snout.
You could hear some passengers snickering. The voice joined in, before leaving you to your own embarrassment.
You felt your blood rushing to your head. Thanks to all the fur nobody seemed to notice your blushing, at least. A small comfort.
Thankfully, the top railing had padding around it, so it didn't hurt too much.
You slid off your seat during your acrobatic manoeuvre. Luckily, your claws missed your daypack by mere milimetres. It would live to see another day.
You shuffled to your feet, freeing yourself from your mangled position, holding the phone in one paw and your sore nose with the other.
You involuntarily glanced at the phone.
You knew it was bad etiquette to pry into someone's screen, but the content of the web page he was visiting caught your attention.
He was on the Bulbapedia page of Mienshao.
You look up to the brown-haired man.
You thought you were embarrassed by your cat-like behaviour, but the poor man could outshine the sun. He was as red as a tomato!
You bet he'd leap into an abyss right about now, if one were to open right in front of him.
Even worse, you couldn't shake the feeling that your bus neighbour usually wasn't easily embarrassed.

The silence was deafening.

You broke the awkwardness, "You should really consider not dropping everything the moment someone asks you for something. Unless, of course, you wanted to make me jump like a cat. In which case, congratulations! You succeeded." you mockingly said, still rubbing your nose with your right paw.

The man took back his phone and began to stammer. "Th-thank you, sir. I'll keep i- I'll keep it in mind, and sorry for making you jump like that."
He lowered his head in shame.
It seemed you misjudged your sarcasm and his reaction to it.

"Oh no, you're fine!" you reassure him, "No need to apologise. You couldn't have known that my instincts kick in like that. Even I was surprised by my actions!"

You tried to force a smile to ease the tension, but you only managed an awkward grin.
Your conversation partner looked up at you and started to smirk when he saw how unsuccessful your attempt at a smile had been.
"I guess we could both learn a few things, Mister Cheshire," he said.
You closed your mouth and cleared your throat.

"I guess we could", you replied, "But please don't call me Mr Cheshire, I'm Etienne."

You flipped the whip-like appendage on your right arm to the side and offered your paw for a handshake.
The young man returned your handshake. His grip was surprisingly firm.
The grip of a confident man! It turned out that your initial assessment of his character was half right after all!
"Nice to meet you Etienne, my name's Florin", he introduced himself.

"With that out of the way" you continued, "I gotta ask – why are you looking at the Bulbapedia page of Mienshao?"

Florin hesitated before answering, "I-i guess I was curious about what had been sitting right beside me for the past fifteen minutes."

"Makes sense, I'd probably do the same if some furry slinky were sitting next to me looking all melancholic", you jokingly said.

Florin began to laugh. "Furry slinky, really? Is that what you call yourself? But calling you Mr Cheshire is inappropriate..."

"I'm allowed to call myself whatever I want!" you protested.

You two continued to tease each other for a while. It seemed you got along well.
The novelty soon wore off, however, and you were both back to minding your own business shortly afterwards.
Florin was again mindlessly scrolling on his phone, while you committed yourself to spotting as many birds as possible.
You could have sworn you saw a Skarmory sparkling in the sunlight.

Chapter 1 – The Recruitment Centre

Part 1 – Welcome to Turnegg

Ten more minutes later, the bus finally arrived at the Turnegg bus stop.
You remained in your seat until most of the around 60 recruits left the vehicle.
It took a while, but once the corridor was empty, you shouldered your daypack, wished the bus driver a pleasant day, and stepped outside into the fledgling day.
You took a deep breath of the cool, fresh Alpine air of late September, which cheered you up right away.
You always liked the air up here and your improved sense of smell made you appreciate it even more!
The crisp air alone had reawakened your wanderlust. Anything to get out of the city!
You thought about whether there'd be enough free time over the next two days to satisfy your desire to wander.
The voice also seemed to share your sentiment, pleading you to explore the little village on the side of a mountainous forest.
You ignored the voice, but promised yourself that you would try to scout out the area later.
Invigorated by the air, you made your way to the entrance around the corner of the street.
As you trotted down the road, you looked around. You saw many houses and chalets, each one more beautifully decorated with gentians, alpine roses and pansies than the last.
At some point, you caught a scent of lavender, which made the whole sensory experience complete.
You reached the end of the street and turned the corner.
You were now able to see your destination: A big building complex, three stories tall. Its concrete walls were hiding behind decorative wooden planks.
It wasn't as aesthetically pleasing as the chalets around it, but at least they tried their best to harmonise the modern with the traditional. They even put some nice-looking bushes in front of where it wasn't easy to hide the exposed concrete.
You saw a commotion in the distance. It was the new recruits trying to sign in at the entrance.

You strolled leisurely towards the entrance, at least until you saw them: Stairs hid themselves behind a well placed bush! The entrance was about five metres up from street level.
Your mood took a hit right then and there. You disliked climbing stairs with your short legs. The steps were just high enough so you had to jump a little.
"Curses..." you muttered to yourself, the voice once again in agreement.
You readied yourself to hop up the stairs, when you saw your ray of hope on the other side. There was a ramp for wheelchairs and heavy trolley bags.
Relieved, you circled around to the other side and walked up the ramp, sparing you from the early-morning exercise. Potted plants decorated the small path to the elevated entrance.
There were still two or three dozen people waiting in line. You decided to wait it out on the sidelines.
You made your way to some empty flowerpots where the morning sun was already shining and sat on one of their brims.
You took the chance to chill and meditate for a while. You closed your eyes and let your mind go free as the warm rays bathed your purple, ermine body.
But it didn't take long to feel something tugging on your tail. You opened your eyes and looked down to your left.
A young looking calico cat pawed at the two purple tips of your tail.
Surprised by the unannounced guest, you moved your tail up and away from the vicious beast.
The cat, clearly upset that its toy had been taken away so soon, glanced up at you.
Its big, steel-blue eyes met yours. It meowed, as if to say "Let me play some more!"
You jumped off the flowerpot. The cat took a step back because of the sudden movement, but didn't run away. Instead, it tilted its head curiously to one side.
You squatted down and waited for the cat to come closer again.

You reached out a paw to it. "Hello, little one," you said, greeting it.

The cat meowed again and head-butted your paw affectionately. It then moved around you, rubbing its head against your legs.
You carried on petting the attention-seeking red-white-and-brown cat. This continued for some time.
«Looks like I'm not the only high-ranking officer who's taken a liking to you,» you heard a familiar voice call out from behind you.
Your ears autonomously perked up and moved backwards, then your head followed.
A lanky man with short blonde hair and a freshly lit cigarette in his mouth stood before you. His uniform's right collar featured a badge with a single, wide, horizontal bar — a major!
You stood up and saluted the officer with a big smile. The whip on your right arm was swinging all over the place because of the momentum. The cat focused intently on the movement.

"Christophe, it's been a while!" you greeted your old friend.

Christophe took a long drag of his cigarette.
«Repos, mon ami. You don't need to be formal around me,» he said, casually blowing out the smoke and returning the salute. He made sure to blow the smoke away from your sensitive nose.
You lowered your arm. The cat followed your every hand movement, its eyes narrowed to slits.
Christophe's emerald green eyes mustered you from head to claw, before he gave you a big, brotherly hug.
«It so good to see you again, Etienne! How have you been?», he asked you, patting you on the back. It felt somewhat awkward, since you were now two heads shorter than him.

You patted him on his left shoulder and replied, "Good, considering the circumstances."

«Glad to hear that!» The officer said and let you free. He then looked down to the little fur ball to your side. It was preparing to pounce on its prey.
You followed Christophe's gaze to the tiny, tricoloured predator. You knew what it wanted, and you accepted your fate and held your right arm out in front of you. The purple-tipped, snake-like extension of your arm now swung dangerously close to its own demise. A declaration of war!
Christophe chuckled with anticipation. «Vas-y, colonel Benny !» he encouraged the cat.
Finally, Benny sprang at its nefarious opponent, claws out and ready to finish the "serpent" off. You made sure the fight wasn't one-sided by moving your arm around.
Christophe and you couldn't stop laughing your sides off at the adorable display of murderous instincts.
The fierce battle continued for a few moments.
The purple snake demon weaved around the colonel, who tried his best to parry and riposte with quick strikes.
First an attack from the left, then from above. None of them were a match for the seasoned feline. He knew how to cover his blind spots and exploit his enemies' weaknesses. Sun Tzu would have been proud of his prowess!
Another strike, this time from the front. The colonel readied himself to deliver the coup de grâce — a direct hit!

At last, the battle was won! The colonel stood triumphantly before its slain adversary and meowed once again.

"Well fought, Colonel! Congratulations!" You congratulated the proud victor and scratched him behind the ear as a treat. A loud purr erupted from God's perfect killing machine.

Christophe was still recovering from his laughter, wiping a tear from his left eye. «Goodness! Turned or not, it's always fun with you around, isn't it?» he stated.

"Trying my best," you replied while cleaning your arm from the battle debris.

Suddenly, the cat heard a bird moving around inside the nearby shrubbery. The young colonel had found a new addition to his badge collection and sped off towards the bush.
«Well, that's that,» Christophe said. He took his last drag of the cigarette and flung it into the nearby ash tray.
«Unfortunately, I have to go to a different military base for the rest of the day to complete some administrative tasks,» he began. «We'll have an after-action review tomorrow at fourteen hundred to discuss your potential role in the hybrid platoon.»

"Aww, that's a shame," you replied, sounding defeated. "I was looking forward to catching up with you!"

«I know, I know... We'll have plenty of time for that tomorrow, including our private lives,» he reassured you.

"If you say so. See you tomorrow then, Chris," you concluded.

«À demain, Etienne !» Your friend said with a warm smile as he put his military cap back on. «Best of luck with the recruitment exams!»

"Merci ! Good luck with the higher-ups! You probably need it more than I do." you replied with a grin.

Christophe snorted. «You know it.»
The two of you bumped fists as a final farewell. Christophe then went over to the G-Class that was already waiting for him at the end of the ramp.
You were on your own again. You looked at the entrance. There were only four people left in the queue, so you went inside to sign in.

Part 2 – The Struggles of Signing In

Once inside, the distinct, sharp, alcoholic smell of hand sanitiser crept into your nose.
Your eyes immediately began to water.
You instinctively covered your nose with your paw and started breathing through your mouth.
It didn't help much, the damage had already been done.
You blinked wildly while trying to keep the accompanying dizziness in check.
It was similar to when you tested the seal on your protective mask and you agreed to pull your mask off for a quick laugh.
How on earth did you manage to do ten maskless push-ups in that tear-gas-filled trailer back then?
No! You've been through worse, you can't give up at the first hurdle!
"Tenacity in difficult situations! Stiff upper lip and all that," you reminded yourself.
You lowered your paw and forced yourself to breathe through your nose.
You took a first, quivering breath.
It stung like hell, your nose was in agony, and your vision was a blurry mess.
You focused on yourself, ignoring the thousand needles prodding your nose, and took another breath.
The dizziness was starting to ease off. However, your nose was still displeased by your insistence.
Another inhale.
Your nose slowly began to get used to the lingering aerosols.
You took a few more breaths and eventually recovered your footing, and your nose stopped sounding the alarm.
It still stung, but it was becoming bearable.
You hoped that not every new sensory sensation would irritate you like this.
You dried your eyes with your arm and sniffed your nose.
With your eyes clear of tears, you could finally see the entrance room in its full, grey glory.
The walls were mostly concrete, with a few pictures of military equipment and historic events to break up the otherwise monotonous boringness.
Several tables were set up to cope with the rush of recruits from earlier.
Besides you, there were just a few soldiers loitering around and one recruit still signing up.

While you were busy with your overloaded sense of smell, a soldier behind one of the sign-in desks had stood up and looked at you concerned.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
He made a move to go around the table and help you, but you gestured for him to stay where he was.

"I'll probably survive, thank you," you replied. "Did you happen to spill a palette of disinfectant? The smells's revolting!"

The man sniffed the air with a raised eye brow.
"No sir, but we have a strict disinfection policy for everyone signing up," he explained and sat down again.

"I see... That's gonna be annoying...", you replied while making your way to the desk.

It was COVID all over again, it seemed.
Minus the masks, at least.
"Anyway, let's get you checked in," he said, and began rummaging through a pile of papers behind him.
"A Mienshao Affligé..." he said to himself, probably searching for a specific document.
He finally pulled a piece of paper from the pile.
"Ah, there it is! I assume you must be Sergeant Etienne, then?" he finally asked.
You straightened up and moved your arms back into a mantis-like stance to not drag your whips on the ground anymore.
You pulled your snotty nose up again.

"You assumed correctly!" you replied.

"Wonderful! We just need you to fill out this form and sign it at the bottom on the back side," he told you, pointing to the different fields on the front and back of the paper he slid towards you.
You looked at him with a slightly tilted head.

"Don't you already have this information?" you asked.

"It's to confirm that the data in our system is still correct," he replied.
He then put a pen next to the document.

"OK then..." you muttered.

"Could I borrow a tissue, please?" you asked, sniffing up the mucus again. "My nose is still a bit runny."

"Oh, sure. One sec." The man opened the chest pocket of his uniform, took out a packet of tissues and handed you one.
You thanked him and blew your nose, then took a liberating breath without snot.

"Ah, much better!"

You glanced down to the form and the ball point pen beside it.
You actually haven't written anything with a pen since turning.
You grabbed the pen with your right hand.
Without a thumb, you couldn't properly hold it, so you tried a few different styles.
Holding it like a human with thumbs would?
Obvious result...
Maybe pinch it between your digits?
Not enough grip strength...
The Private watched you with amusement.
You eventually settled on clutching the writing utensil with your fist.
The form just asked for some general information, such as your place of residence, national insurance number, occupation and emergency contacts.
Writing was easier than you thought. It felt like you were five again, but at least you were still able to write things down.
Your whip appendage on the other hand...
You filled out a few lines, just for the whip to smear your writing.
You flicked the furry snake away and retraced the messed up letters.
You jotted down a few more lines, just for the purple menace to ruin it again!
You felt many eyes on you.
...
It happened again — for the third time.

"Argh, screw those bloody whips!" you blurted out.

You stared at your involuntary blotting paper – now sprinkled with blue ink – and wondered whether you should just tear it away.
You knew full well that it was a waste of time, as the bloody thing just grew back after a day or two.
...
Screw it! They gotta go!
Just as you were about to rip the leash off with your left paw, another soldier nearby joined in.
"Why not wrap those things around your arms if they annoy you?" he suggested.
You stopped writing and glared up at him.

"And how would that he-" you interrupted yourself mid sentence.

Your mouth stood agape.
What?
How didn't you come up with that idea? It was so simple!
"Six bloody weeks..." raced through your mind.
For six long weeks, you either tore them off or tried to ignore them.
For six annoying weeks, the voice occasionally reminded you to hold your arms up like a dog standing on its hind legs and be proud of the whips pristine sheen.
For six humiliating weeks, you gave in, mainly because cleaning them up after dragging them through the mud would have been worse.
Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and, even worse, self-doubt.
The voice seemed to have influenced you more than you initially thought.
It wasn't just pouting after all!
It wasn't a passenger, but the copilot.
But those six weeks were over now.
You were in charge — completely this time!
Hopefully...
There was a lot to think about yourself and that little weasel in your head, but it had to wait.
You cleared your throat and turned to the soldier, who stared at you as if petrified by Medusa.

"Please forgive my anger. I was just about to rip those things off, but your suggestion is actually so much better!" you told him, trying to soften the glare you'd shot at the man a second ago. "Merci!"

The soldier hesitated, but gave you a smile and a salute in return. "Glad to help, Sergeant!" he said with relief.
You grabbed the whip on your right arm and started to wrap it around your forearm.
You secured it by cramming the purple tips into the gaps.
Your copilot in the meantime was howling at you, telling you were a disgrace if you didn't show your weapons with pride.
...
You wrapped the left whip around your limb.

Afterwards, you shook your arms around to see if your efforts had paid off.
Luckily for you, they held fast.
Your forearms felt a bit strange and they were a bit thicker now, but after six weeks, your wrists were finally able to move freely without anything obstructing them.
Even better, you no longer had to walk around like a praying mantis to avoid dragging your long fur on the ground.
You could feel slightly more human again.
A relieved sigh escaped your mouth.
You adjusted a few creases to feel more comfortable.
You thanked the soldier again and then continued filling out the form.
Once finished and signed, you slid the form back over the table.
The soldier took the form and checked it to make sure it was all legible.
He nodded, put the piece of paper on a different stack of forms and handed you another, more colourful piece of paper.
The vibrant, colour-coded page contained the whole time table for your stay.
"That's the Picasso for the next two days," he began. "You're in group three."
"The commander's speech starts in 55 minutes," he continued, "You can take your luggage up to your room on the second floor; room number 204. You'll be sharing it with two other Affligés. Please deposit your belongings and then make your way to the waiting area in 40 minutes at the latest." He then pointed to the room to your left.
You nodded, still mustering the Picasso for your group.
After the speech, there was the sports exam together with group one, followed by some time to shower and have lunch.
The medical examination took up the entire afternoon, leaving just free time after dinner.
The next morning was left empty for group three, while the other groups were having the leadership and service aptitude tests.
After lunch, there was a big block labelled "Assignment".
You assumed that this last block would be the exchange that Christophe told you about.
Between the blocks were awfully long gaps.
You folded the paper up and put it in your bag.
You thanked the soldier and made your way up the stairs up to the second floor.
There was no saving grace for you this time, as the elevator was for staff only.
You gain some, you lose some...
So you started hopping up the stairs.
At least the voice seemed to have calmed down.

Edit

Pub: 05 Dec 2025 20:56 UTC

Edit: 12 Jan 2026 18:22 UTC

Views: 117