Don't Turn Me Into A Marketable Plushie Novels & Stories

I stepped back from him and turned around to leave the room. The next time I would give him my attention was when he would treat me without seeing the fragile mark on my forehead. Because I didn’t want to be a glass doll, I wanted to be something he wouldn’t be able to look away from. The thought made me falter, did I really want him like that? Would I be able to handle it? But then how would I know when I never experienced it. Till now I had been a doll in cruel hands, but now I wanted to be a prized possession in certain rough and strong hands.

He had soup in his beards. The auctioneer growled but there was nothing he could do. No one was willing to pay higher for such a beautiful girl. “Sold,” he said and removed the brooch then pushed her forward to meet her owner. I observed the strategy here. It was a market. It was like placing a teddy no one wanted on the shelf of a store. It will grow old with time and not look as pleasant and it may be archaic at that time. When finally someone comes for it, they wouldn't want to pay the regular price for it because it was old and not as pleasing to the eyes. But for teddy, he was glad that it had been taken and had somewhere to go even if he wouldn't be given fair treatment.

"Capitalism at its finest. Slap a fancy name on something basic, double the price, and convince people they're buying luxury." Penelope pretended to wave a candle like it was a trophy. "Congratulations, you now own Ethereal Serenity. Smells like…lemon Pledge." We burst out laughing, drawing a few side-eyes from nearby shoppers, which only made us giggle more. Moments like these, surrounded by simple absurdity and Penelope's infectious laugh, made me feel so full of joy and relief,I never thought I would have such a day again.

Her voice mimicked one trying to curb anger. My eyes were still fixed on Mr. Beckham, and my heart was beating in my throat. "So, the artisan I wanted to buy it from said it was sold out, and it turns out it wasn’t a popular piece, so I had to make mine with a little alteration," I explained.

"You know, I had a whole room in my apartment filled with plush toys like this one not long ago. But they didn't mean anything to me, so I donated them all to nearby orphanages and kindergartens. "It's just a toy. If I wanted one, I could get it anytime. But now I don't want it anymore. It's not important to me." She was talking about that particular plush toy Jacob had once flaunted on social media. Elijah had gone out of his way to buy every similar plush in the city, having them delivered straight to her door. He wanted to strike back at Jacob in his own petty way.

'Do you like them or not? 'Who wouldn't? she asked. 'Of course, I do like them a lot'. 'Then they are all yours. Just handle them like you would handle any treasure you have. They belonged to my wife like I told you and I have refused to sell them. Not that I have not been approached. But I am really moved to help you. You are like the daughter I never had'. 'You will never regret giving them to me but I must assure you that I do not know what great deed I have done to have been led to your doorstep because you have made the establishment of this business a success already'.

The word landed like a verdict. My hands curled into fists at my sides. My wolf snarled, violent and restless, slamming against the cage of my body. Because this wasn't about making me clean, or presentable. This was about stripping me down to something sellable. Something desirable. Something that wasn't even me anymore.

I am stretched, prodded, and pulled in so many directions, I’m barely able to think. I blink as I’m pushed into a chair, lights flashing in my eyes, voices overlapping again. Someone is tugging at my hair, another at my shirt, fingers brushing against my face like I’m something being prepared for display. Right now, I’m not a person…. I'm a product. Something we need to sell to the general public… a love story that can leave little girls dreaming at night. Passion that makes the earth quake. “Stop moving,” a woman snaps, tilting my chin upward. “If you smear this, we’ll have to start over.”

I moved from the counter to the table and pulled out the chair opposite Cindy and sat down slowly while I tried to think what I should say. "Cindy, I'm so sorry you had a bad experience. But sex doesn't have to be like that. It shouldn't hurt, it should be pleasurable, wonderful and exciting. It just sounds like you had a bad first time. Don't worry it won't always be like that." Cindy looked up at me, and brushed the tears from her soft red cheeks. I wanted to reach out and hold her but didn't want to scare her. She said "But my friends say all boys are like that."

“Who are we selling to?” Ambrose smiled again, almost grandfatherly, which only made my stomach drop a little. “People with expensive tastes,” he replied. “People who want something young and untouched and easy to mold. That kind of merchandise.” My face collapsed in horror. Was he talking about selling human beings?!