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

Most of the designs are my own creation and I have my own trademark on my clothes which If someone would try to plagiarise will come to my knowledge as I always embroider my name is a secretive way which even my company doesn't know. My apartment is colourful and is designed the way I want. I have installed a shelf with glass cover just to keep small plushies and toys as I love them a lot but my family always have the ones I collected to my sister and now I own them solely. I am actually very territorial over my things and friends. I don't like to share and this is me . I work hard so that I can live the way I want because we only have one life and can't spend it with longing and regrets. We

She reasoned and I resisted the urge to jump out of excitement, I was thinking I’d finally give up the ghost today. “Awwwn, look at how relief and happiness spread across your face after hearing the news, now I feel like a bad person, but I know I’m not. How the heck will you not like shopping??? Like How is it possible, the thrill that runs through my body when I see new things and shop new things is indescribable, shopping is therapeutic for me.” She proclaimed and I groaned internally for tomorrow because I know by the time we’re done, my body will be so weak that you’d think I’ve undergone the werewolf transition.

I’ve never dreaded the sound of my own name before. I allow my spine to curve as I head toward center stage. Instead of smiling like the previous two girls, I stick out my lip and make it obvious that I have no interest in being here. Money is important, but I’d rather see negative figures in my bank than never see my own fucking child again. The game is on. Even though I’m curved forward like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the audience still looks pleased to see me. Way too pleased. It’s smiles all around, even though I’m trying my fucking hardest to look as glum as possible.

Only if I was not in need of money and saving my sister. In short… Smile and wave. That's all you got Meera Adarsh barbie doll version 2.0. Think that you're of plastic and you have no emotions. At all. How nice and motivating! So that's what I do. Smile. I smile at Mr. Brock, I smile at the ladies who by the look are definitely interested to burn me down with their gazes. I guess they want what I hold right now. And I would love to share it with them. Maybe even give it to them in whole. I'm a very kind person and today I feel extra kind.

"I bought her for thirty days because I was a 'Machine.' I stayed for a lifetime because she’s the 'Variable' that makes my 'Blood-Standard' run hot. The only 'Contract' that matters is the one written in 'Presence.'" He turned back to the crowd. "We are 'Defaulting' on your 'Power.' From this moment on, the only 'Currency' in this city is 'Resonance.' If you want to 'Buy' something, you pay with your 'Authenticity.' If you want to 'Own' something, you have to be willing to 'Feel' it." The Resolution of the Market-Wilding

“Do I look like I know what I’m doing?” “You look like you tried.” “Story of my life.” The cart was full now. Overflowing. I kept staring at it. Bibs, bottles, baby socks that looked like they belonged on dolls. A breast pump I pretended I didn’t notice. A plush giraffe Mom tossed in when I wasn’t looking. “They can’t even hold things yet,” I said. “It’s not about that. It’s about making it feel like theirs.” “There’s no nursery.” “Then turn a corner of your room into one.”

Blake stared at the plushie on his bed, his long fingers stroking the soft fur. There has never been a woman, especially the ones he had dated, who had thoughtfully gave him something. They would claim he was rich and there was hardly anything he couldn’t get on his own…. That much was true. But… Seeing this plushie makes him regret all his bad decisions. He should have dated more sensibly. He picked it up snuggled closer to it. It was soft… so soft that if indeed he had a mental illness then it might be comforting.

He looked angry as he just turned back to the crowd. Adam reappeared a few minutes later, flanked by two women and cackling too loudly. He scanned our faces, smiled with too much of his mouth, then got right up in my ear again. “Remember… smiles, hands, touches. You’re not here as individuals. You’re a brand. Sell it or they’ll eat you alive.” I looked at him in a strange way as he winked at me and walked off.

The plushie was soft and pleasant to the touch. It was certainly different from the ones sold in stores. Someone like Everett would surely have had it custom-made, using materials that were both safe and eco-friendly. The more I looked at it, the more I liked it. I couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at my lips. The call connected—but Everett didn’t answer. I knew companies were busier toward year-end, and Everett sometimes left his personal phone in the office during meetings. I exited the call screen, deciding not to try again.

"Are proof of that." A gasp. A horrified, breathless sound. I stepped closer, watching them shrink back like startled little mice. "At least I chose to be a slut to a man who could buy you and your entire families as my personal mannequins just to pleases me." I tapped a manicured nail against my chin, feigning thoughtfulness. "Not to mention your jobs." Their silence was delicious.