Novel & Cerita Don't Turn Me Into A Marketable Plushie

“You say that like it’s shocking, Daddy.” “I’m not shocked,” Nathan mutters. “I’m… clarifying.” Theo finally stops laughing long enough to chime in. “I mean, baby girl, it’s a perfect market. There’s a lot of cheap stuff out there. Not much that feels like it belongs to someone who’s serious about it. Someone who wants to wear the role. Not just play it.” Her eyes flick to him, and something in her gaze softens. “Exactly.” Nathan leans back in his seat. “So you want to make pieces for submissives?”

But my parents always taught me to behave myself in front of my elders so I replied very politely. " By the way, has anyone shown any interest in you?? You must groom yourself beta. See, what have you done to yourself. If you groom yourself, I am sure someone might get interested in you. " She said looking at me, as if I was dirt and did not even tried to hide her expressions. " I am sorry to say this chachi, but I am not some object in the market, that some potential buyers should show some interest in me. I am a human being and I am happy the way I am. I can't be fake. "

Many of our decorations at home were bought from these flea markets. But my favorite part would be the variety of snacks sold at these markets. Just thinking about it already made my mouth water. Queenie often said that my appearance didn't match my true self. She said I had an angelic face but a down-to-earth heart. I especially love antiques with stories behind them.

But her next words melted my heart. “Well you’ve gotten to know that power and money don’t work for me, not even social status. So maybe you could start by being nicer to me and treating me like an actual human, not a branded object,”

Apparently, this power was so consuming that it could even knock me out and do whatever it wanted to. I didn't want to hurt anybody else. “So these are your sweet potatoes?” I found myself in the market and my worry over attracting attention was almost more or less completely wiped away. Everybody was involved in the hustle and bustle of the market, so nobody really paid attention to anything other than what they wanted to buy.

The more time that ticked by, the more nervous I got. “I am really sorry.” I try to apologize to the man with a makeup brush in his hand, who is glaring down at me. All he does is roll his eyes and continues to work on my eyes. I am not used to being pampered, or wearing a lot of makeup, but Scarlett says that we need to be able to stand out under the bright lights of the stage. She says that the prettier the treasures look, the more the buyers will pay. I guess that makes sense. Apparently, catfishing is accepted here. I mean, under all the layers of makeup, these men will find average-looking women. I think it would be best to go out on stage with our natural look. At least the buyers will

“Hush, honey. Don’t stare. You might get nightmares.” “What’s with a hot dude going out with a… gothic artwork? Damn, is he blind?” “Maybe he’s into it? Or maybe he’s a little bonkers in the head. Or maybe, he’s the reason she looks like that! He’s doing this to atone for his sin or something!” “This is a marketing ploy, right? Something for the algorithm? ‘A hot-*ss dreamboat with Ugly Betty walks around an amusement park’ sure sounds like those viral skits. Where’s the camera?”

His breath scalds my neck. His voice drops. “They’ll look cute. On any of them.” For a second, warmth spills through me. Then I realize he’s staring at me, not the socks, and my cheeks flare. I cast down my eyes and shove the socks into the cart. We move on. Baby lotion. Wipes. Shampoo. I toss them in. He tosses more. He’s stocking up like we’re preparing for an apocalypse. Then we reach the toy section. A small plush giraffe catches my eye. I lift it, squeeze it… and it squeaks. Loudly.

"For a nine-year-old girl. Smart, science-oriented, into puzzles and space." The woman's expression shifted from caution to interest. "Your daughter?" "No," I answered quickly. "She's my... it's complicated." Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Stepdaughter? Or soon to be?" I didn't correct her. "Something like that. I want to get her something special. Something that shows I'm trying." The salesperson smiled, warming to the task. "Let me show you our science fiction section for younger readers. There's a new series that just came out that might be perfect..."

" I snarled. I was treating him badly now just to remind myself he was off-limits, because that red line? It was getting blurry every minute he spent with us. "Huge, as in, like everything else about me." Flinn clucked his tongue. "Retiring from my fake-boyfriend work and giving up pot definitely gave me fewer opportunities to be a brat, though.". I still enjoy going out, getting drunk, a hot fucking shopping binge. I never understood why men are so butt-hurt to shop-I enjoy new things. I am no longer shamefully self-indulgent, however. I guess I'm at the age where I'm trying to prove to myself and the rest of the world that more to my life exists than being as hot as shit and fuck like a ro