Treat Your Team Well
Summary: A good trainer takes care of their Pokémon. This includes healing them in battle and avoiding having them faint. The nurse at the Pokémon center decides to make sure Scarlet treats their Pokémon better during their next battle
Warning(s): Spanking with a paddle; spoilers for Pokémon Scarlet; some references to abusive behaviour
Author's Note: I always find it quite irresponsible to allow the entire Pokémon team to faint during battle. Obviously, it's the way of winning against your opponent, but I always feel really guilty every time even one of my Pokémon faints. So I thought I'd write this fic.
I'm also considering the academy more like a college, so Scarlet is about 18 years old, rather than a child.
Since Scarlet's appearance, name and gender is determined by the player, I'm writing this fic in second person. I hope this works, as I've only ever written in second person when it comes to interactive stories
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"First, let's get your Pokémon all healed up." The nurse smiles reassuringly at you as she takes your Pokémon.
You watch anxiously as the Pokeballs containing your teammates disappear from view, only relaxing marginally once they're returned. You know that they're safe here in the Pokémon center, but you still need to reach out and take each of the Pokeballs. You open each one, releasing your Pokémon inside, and check them over.
There isn't so much of a hint of an injury on your Pokémon, and each one chirps happily when you check them over. They don't seem unhappy with you. They don't seem to blame you for losing the battle.
"What happened?"
As the last of your Pokémon returns to its Pokeball, your eyes track to the nurse. Joy. That's her name, isn't it? She's watching you closely. Intently. Waiting for a response.
You shift slightly from one foot to the other, keenly aware that this isn't the first time you've run here in a panic, desperate for your Pokémon to be healed. "I didn't have enough potions. I thought I could defeat the Team Star boss. I...I was wrong." You stumble over the words. It's hard to say them out loud, but there's no one else to blame apart from you.
Joy's eyes narrow in disappointment and she sighs, casting a glance towards her colleague who runs the the Pokemart. Then, she turns back to you. "It's disappointing to see so many trainers act in such an irresponsible manner. You aren't the first student I've seen neglect your Pokémon in such a way, and I'm sure you won't be the last."
Her words feel unfair. After all, it's not as if you deliberately chose to battle until all of your Pokémon fainted. And they understand that. Don't they? They still obey you. Still fight for you. Still want to do their best for you.
They know you didn't mean to hurt them. Don't they?
Joy is speaking again and you pull yourself out of your thoughts to listen. "I took the liberty of contacting Director Clavell at the Academy. I wanted to ask his permission to implement the strategy I've thought up to teach trainers like you better responsibility."
What strategy? "What strategy?" you ask out loud, a hollow pit forming in your stomach.
Instead of answering with words, Joy moves over to one end of the center and opens a door in the side. "Come inside," she orders, eyeing you with an expression you can only describe as stern.
For a moment, only a moment, you think about walking away. Will she run after you? It's unlikely. But then, what if you needed to come back to the Pokémon center? Would she refuse to treat your Pokémon?
The hesitation only lasts for a second or two, before your feet take you round to the door. You step into the center as Joy moves out of the way, long enough to allow you entrance before she closes the door. Then, she reaches under the counter and takes out a thin, wooden paddle. "Bend over. Place your hands on the counter. Stick your bottom out," she orders.
"What?" You can't help but flinch at the high-pitched note that creeps into your voice.
"It's easy for a trainer to allow their team to fight battles for them," Joy says. "You don't get harmed. You don't get hurt. You use the Pokémon to fight your battles for you, but you don't take care of them. This isn't the first time you've come to this Pokémon center. And I'm sure you've gone to others, too. I have spoken to Director Clavell and he agrees that a bit of negative reinforcement is in order." She points the paddle at the counter. "Bend over. Place your hands on the counter. Stick your bottom out. I won't tell you again."
It feels like a cold hand grips your stomach and you can't help flinching at the order. Once again, the thought of leaving, of running away, goes through your mind. But if Joy's already in contact with Director Clavell, the chances are that she'll let him know if you run away. And maybe you'll even be expelled from the academy.
Still, it's hard...very hard...to force yourself to follow the directions. You can only hope that no one else will approach as you brace your hands on the counter, leaning forward until your stomach is pressed against the hard surface and your bottom is a perfect target.
Once you're in position, she moves round to your side and takes hold of your shorts, pulling them up until they lie taut against your backside. She taps the paddle against your bottom for a few seconds and then brings it back, letting it land with a loud, stinging crack.
Burning pain immediately blooms on your bottom and you hiss out a breath, fingers curling into fists. "Ouch."
Ignoring your exclamation, she brings the paddle down a second and third time, each crack sounding abnormally loud in the small space. Your shorts don't offer very much protection, especially pulled taut as they are. And the fourth stroke from the paddle catches the underside of your bottom, impacting bare skin that isn't covered by your shorts, and you can't help but yell out.
She lands another two strokes and then pauses. Your bottom is sore and burning, almost throbbing through your shorts. There are tears in your eyes, although none have fallen yet. You've managed to get through this with your dignity mostly intact.
At least, that's what you think...until Joy speaks. "I think that's enough of a warmup. Take your shorts down.”
"What?" With how much your bottom is aching already, you know there's no chance you'll get through a paddling on your bare bottom with your dignity intact. Wiping at the tears still threatening to fall, you push yourself up. "I didn't ask for this."
"Did your Pokémon ask to be forced into battle and to need constant healing?" She pushes you back down. "Six on your bare bottom. One for each of your Pokémon. Now take your shorts down."
In spite of yourself, you can't stop the whimper that escapes your lips. The thought of another six strikes from the paddle, this time on your bare bottom, is daunting. But Joy's words pierce through to your heart. You never intended to force your Pokémon into battle. It's what this world is all about. You don't have a choice.
But she's right. You shouldn't keep letting your Pokémon faint. You need to start stocking up on potions and take them with you. Your Pokémon trust you to take care of them...and Joy is right that you haven't been doing a very good job of that.
Letting out another tiny whimper, you reach back and slowly ease your shorts down and off your burning, throbbing bottom. You push the shorts down until they're down around your ankles, then reach out and grab onto the far edge of the counter, trying to brace yourself.
The stroke from the paddle to your bare skin makes your whole body jerk and you cry out. Your entire bottom feels like it's on fire and as the second strike lands just below the first, the tears begin to fall from your eyes, falling down your cheeks.
Four more. You just need to make it through four more strokes.
The next stroke lands against your upper thighs, the pain sharp and intense like you've been branded there.
Just three strokes left. You can do this.
She swings the paddle and it catches your sit spots, with enough force to send you arching up on tiptoes. Your fingers release the counter and your hand flies back, rubbing at one of the particularly painful, tender spots on the middle of your cheek. Before Joy can tell you to move your hand, though, you pull it out of the way and grab the counter edge once more.
Only two more to go.
The penultimate strike seems much harder than the previous and you cry out, arching your back and whimpering out, "Please."
"One more to go." Joy's voice doesn't sound entirely unsympathetic. When she pushes down on your back, it feels a bit gentler than the last time and you find yourself sinking down against the counter, trying to brace yourself.
Only one more to go. One more stroke, and then it'll be over.
The paddle cracks against the center of your backside and you choke on a sob, stamping your feet to try and soothe some of the fire raging in your backside.
But it's over. You made it through the paddling, even if the punishment was painful and intense.
Joy moves her hand from your back and says, "You can get up now."
The thought of pulling your shorts back up over your swollen, burning bottom is daunting, but you don't want to turn round without first making sure your lower body is covered. So even though it's painful and you can't help whimpering loudly, you reach back and tug your shorts back into place, trying not to let more tears fall as the rough material rubs over your bottom.
It takes you a few moments to be able to turn around, as you're trying to gather your composure. When you finally manage to do so, Joy holds out a damp cloth. "Here. You can wash your face. It'll be less uncomfortable that way."
"Th-thank you." You take the cloth and wipe your face with one hand, while your other gingerly rubs your stinging bottom, trying to cool at least some of the fire raging there. "I'm sorry," you mumble.
"It isn't me who needs to hear that."
Taking a deep breath, you nod. You take the Pokeballs out and look at each of them. "I'll do that. I'll apologise to them. I'll...I'll be better," you whisper.
"Good." Joy rests a hand on your shoulder after taking back the cloth. "I don't believe you're a bad person. But you need to take better care of your Pokémon in the future. If you don't, this will happen again," she promises.
"I understand." Your face is hot as you put the Pokeballs away again, resolving to let them out for a picnic once you're far away from here. You don't want to stay here any longer...and you can only hope that no one else saw what happened. "Can I go now?" you ask.
Joy nods and opens the door, gesturing for you to leave. "Please bring your Pokémon back the next time they need healing," she says chirpily...just as if she'd never paddled you to tears.
Moving a bit stiffly, due to the stinging and burning pain in your backside, you walk out of the Pokémon center and quickly head back out into the wilderness.
Hopefully, it won't be long before you can forget the embarrassment and humiliation.
The End