(Mind control, magic, altered common sense, transformation, objectification)
Monica and Taylor meandered their way through the aisle of the supermarket. Their fashion and general demeanor varied greatly: the former a mousey brunette and the latter a blonde preppy princess who took her style and personality straight from Mean Girls. In theory they were grabbing some snacks for a get together at their house later, but in reality it was a chance for Taylor to bitch at length about their other housemates.
“...and can you believe that guy Lisa’s dating?! Or is that too strong a word? Fucking sums it up better. I bet she was spreading her legs before he even bought her dinner, if he could even afford to take a girl out on a burger flipper’s salary. God, she’s such a slut.”
Monica pushed the cart, half filled with a few items, and tried to tune out Taylor’s constant rants. They, along with three other girls, went in together on renting a house for their last year of college. The first few weeks were fine, but then Taylor started gossiping about her housemates behind their backs. Monica did not wish to know what her blonde ‘friend’ said about her when she wasn’t around. The gossip turned mean and then meaner as the weeks went on, and now approaching winter break it grew insufferable. The other housemates casually floated the idea of rallying together and kicking Taylor out, but none of them were really ready for the shit show that would prompt. So Genevieve, whose gothy-pagan vibe drew the bulk of Taylor’s bullying, came up with an alternate solution.
“...and who does little Genny-witch think she is anyway?” Taylor continued, prompting Monica to wonder if the girl even took a break to inhale while being horrible. “Those dresses she wears are just, uughh! Just get a corset and some fucking fishnets and go all in. Stop pretending you’re anything more than a goth bitch with black lipstick and daddy issues.”
“Enough,” Monica hissed, letting go of the cart and reaching into her pocket. Taylor, so used to the other girl’s quiet nature, kept right on talking over the declaration. Hate bubbled up even more for the babbling blonde beside her. She licked the back of the small slip she pulled out, focusing her feelings into the action. Monica then grabbed Taylor’s wrist, finally catching her attention and pausing the spiteful monologue, and slapped the wet side of the flat rectangle down on the other girl’s forearm.
“What the shit!?” Taylor shouted. Her mouth continued to move but her voice faltered as she felt heat radiate up her arm from the point of contact. A tingling spread over her body and a strange pressure pushed at her thoughts. “What the…?” she asked again more quietly. She felt tipsy and a little numb, but mostly confused. Looking down at her arm, she saw the paper-like thing on her arm. It looked like the semi-opaque covering layer of a temporary tattoo. The thought to reach down and rip it off passed through her brain, but try as she might, Taylor could not make her hand perform the action.
Monica noticed the struggle and smirked. “That’s enough of your vitriol. Let’s get you somewhere a little more proper and visible.” She kept a hand on Taylor’s wrist and tugged her along, abandoning the cart halfway down the chip aisle.
Taylor found her feet following obediently and attempted to stop, to root herself to the ground in protest. The most she could manage in opposition is to form the simplest of questions, “How?”
The brunette smirked over her shoulder as they turned a corner. “Turns out you were a tiny bit right about Genevieve. She is a witch, and worked out a little something to try and teach you a lesson.” Two aisles down they turned again, flanked by seasonal goods and a small toy section on one side, and cookware and office supplies on the other. “You can already feel the effects, or you would be throwing an even bigger fit. Basically we, and by ‘we’ I mean everyone you’ve interacted with these past few months, are sick of your shit.” Monica stopped at a small section of empty shelving and positioned Taylor in front of it facing out. “You treat people like things, and now it’s your turn to know what that feels like.” She grinned and peeled the paper off of Taylor’s forearm, revealing a black series of lines standing out on the blonde’s tan skin. A tattoo of a barcode, about two and a half inches long and an inch tall.
Monica took a step back and crossed her arms, feeling more empowered than she had all year. “Now you’re just a thing. Don’t worry too much, it’s not forever. The barcode there anchors the spell, and will fade or fall off when you learn your lesson. Personally I hope it takes a long time. Bye, bitch.”
Taylor watched with horror as Monica turned and walked away. She tried to yell, to scream, to chase after and beat the other girl’s ass. But she simply stood there in her cute pink top and designer denim short-shorts, unable to move or utter a single word. The college senior-turned-item stewed silently in her rage as time slipped by. It was hard to tell from the fluorescent lights above, but she tracked the passage of a few hours from the light glimpsed from the front of the store. To her it felt more like barely fifteen minutes. Eventually she noticed that her full perception of time came into focus only when shoppers paused on their way down the aisle to regard her. Not a single one of them seemed upset or even curious that a full person was on sale.
A woman in her 30s stopped to consider her, going so far as to reposition Taylor’s arms and turn her around for an inspection. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing?” Taylor surprised herself at finally saying something aloud. “Fucking get me out of here! I’m not a thing!”
The older woman pursed her lips. “You looked like you’d make a good life-sized Barbie for my little Theresa, but with a mouth like that there’s no way I’d let you play with her. You’re still cute though, do you eat pussy?”
The matter-of-fact question left Taylor stunned. She barely even started to process the idea of being bought as a doll for a little girl. “What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not some dyke!”
“That’s a shame,” the woman said with only mild disappointment. She groped Taylor’s ass appreciatively, prompting a confused squeal of protest from the girl. “You’d look great between my legs while Jason is away on business trips.” With a shrug, the older woman turned her back to facing out and continued on down the aisle. Once the attention of the shopper moved, Taylor felt her perception of time slide again into vague awareness of barely connected moments.
She came back to full attention to see a man looking her over. He appeared to be five or so years older than her with a lanky build and dark hair. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the sun had nearly set. Remembering the freedom the woman’s interest gave her earlier, Taylor tried to speak. “What are you looking at, perv? I’m a college student, not some toy. Get me out of here!”
The casual smile on the man’s face grew wider, and just a touch hungrier, “That’s an interesting setting. College student, huh?” He jostled her about and shifted her clothing. In the process he very intentionally felt up her breasts. “Guess the school girl outfit is sold separately?” Taylor’s cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. His finger brushed over the barcode on her arm and the anger dissipated for a long moment, leaving a giddy feeling in her belly. “Hmm, only comes with one outfit. No other accessories? Damn.” He brushed his finger along the tattoo again and the giddiness evolved fully into the flutter of butterflies. Taylor did not want to feel anything positive about this man’s attention. He was so far from her type, and his clothes were just, ew! “A bit pricey, but what the hell. I’ll just hang onto the receipt.”
The man picked her up and placed Taylor into his cart. She had not been in a shopping cart since she and some friends pushed each other around back in middle school. Then the store manager had yelled at them, now no one else batted an eye as the man went about the rest of his shopping. As other items were added to the cart, a strange conflict pulled at her feelings. She sat in a shopping cart next to ramen and microwave meals, but he picked her. Disgust and gratitude warred within her as he took her through the self checkout lane.
Everything else went in a bag after scanning, she stayed in the cart. Her mind tried to rally at the insanity of this whole experience as he lifted her arm and picked up the hand held scanner. But a flash of red laser light flicked over the barcode, producing a beep that made her thoughts momentarily go blank. Her brain restarted just in time to see the man press a few things on the touch screen and swipe his credit card. The jingle of the finalized sale and printing of the receipt washed over her, fundamentally changing something within her. She was bought, paid for, and owned now.
He put the bag of groceries in the cart beside her and began pushing her out of the store. “Now what should I call you?”
She could tell he was talking to himself rather than to her, but responded anyway. “My name is Taylor.”
“What, like that singer?” he asked, addressing her directly for the first time. Taylor nodded, feeling the warmth of recognition and the comparison to one of her favorite musicians of all time. “No way, her songs are pure pop drivel and she absolutely sucks,” he responded with a sour expression, then looked at her chest and brightened up. “I’ll call you Tits. At least until I come up with something better.”
Tits just nodded slowly. She couldn’t believe she went to see that talentless hack of a pop star in concert and bought all of her albums. What a waste. Some part of Tits’ mind recognized what just happened, the power of her new Owner’s words and desires would have over her. She wanted to feel afraid, but as he pushed her out into the parking lot and towards her new life, she could not quiet those damn butterflies and the feelings they represented for the man who purchased her.
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