Janice hummed to herself as she walked through the store, trying to drown out the chatter of the shoppers around her and the tiny music piped over the store’s speakers. The shelves around her were stacked high with balls of just about every shape and colour imaginable: basketballs, volleyballs, and footballs both American and worldwide. As she passed, she idly ran a hand across some of the soccer balls, sending them spinning on the shelves, bouncing against each other. 

   Lifting her hand away, something caught the edge of a finger, a loose sticky label peeling away and wrapping itself over the fingers on her left hand. The ink was faded and indistinct, the remains of a barcode, a word that might have been ‘SOCCER’. Sighing slightly, she reached to try and peel it away, the sticker clinging tight, tugging at her skin. All she really managed to do was roll it over the rest of her hand, sticking her fingers together like a mitten. 

   “Stupid thing…” shaking her hand a few more times, the sticker still refused to budge, Janice tried to ignore it, figuring it’d fall off eventually. Continuing through the store, she only managed a few steps before stumbling, tripping over her own shoe, her right foot slipping out. Catching herself against the shelves, she looked down: at her right shoe, still fully laced, and the left slipping loose from her other foot. It was as if they’d grown larger… or she’d shrunk. 

   Blinking a few times, she tried to make sense of things: the sticker, her shoes, the clothes that now felt loose and ill-fitting about her body. Convinced she must be dreaming, she pinched her arm, or tried to. Her fingers slipped over strangely smooth skin, squeaking and protesting, tougher than it should have been. 

   “What the hell…?” something was definitely wrong, her body feeling stiff and weaker with every passing moment. She had to find help, and fast. She stepped forward again, slipping easily out of her remaining shoe, shrinking legs catching against the hem of her jeans. Gripping her waistband, she pulled them up, suddenly conscious of how high the shelves seemed to loom around her. 

   Each step required more and more effort, waves of fatigue washing over her, stiffening joints and muscles protesting against every movement. Her skin grew stiffer still, turning pale, gleaming against the harsh lights of the store around her, squeaking louder each time she moved. 

   “What is happening to me…?” the words came slowly, even breathing was becoming more of a chore. She could feel her body starting to shift under her clothes, feeling a strange pressure inside her torso. The more she shrank, the more the pressure grew, pushing her body outwards. Glancing down, her belly seemed to be swelling, pushing out and rounder, chest starting to flatten against it as they lifted up. 

   Pausing for breath against a pillar, she looked back to her discarded shoes. It couldn’t have been more than a few feet, but the distance seemed to stretch out ahead of her shrinking body. By now, her arms and legs had started to bulge, growing wider, thighs and shoulders pushing out rounder to join the curve of her swelling torso. She felt like she ought to have been panicking, or terrified, but it was hard to shape the feeling of ease and calm… a growing curiosity about what was happening to her. Pinching sensations started to cross her skin as seams formed, tugging her skin inwards, a tingling sensation as sticking started to criss-cross her body. She looked down, trying to follow them, watching the pattern of individual patterns forming across her body. 

   She lifted an arm, tough plasticky skin creasing and folding, hands almost lost amidst the ballooning flesh. The sticker still clung tight, though the ink seemed bolder now, and she could make out the letters “ICE SOCCER” above the barcode. 

   Pressing her arm into her torso, her skin caved slightly, feeling nothing beneath but the pressure of the air now filling her hollow body. Beneath her, the growing pressure pushed her thighs outwards, pulling her legs flat against her growing body, feet slipping out beneath her. Janice slipped, tumbling, jeans and panties falling away as her shirt and bra rolled with her. She rolled in a tangle, bouncing this way and that as her arms bumped against the ground, the force of the impact strangely pleasurable as the vibrations spread through her body. 

   Each bump and knock squashed and flattened her body, pressing what little remained of her limbs flat into her, what had once been thighs or shoulders little more than hexagonal patterns across her body, breasts flattened into smaller squares, shifting apart as her form started to settle. Another roll and the last of her clothes fell behind her. A glimpse of the ceiling, then shelves, then the patterned tile floor as her face rolled across it. Smooth and cool, it flattened her head into the rest of her body. Her vision shifted slightly, spreading out across the shape of her body, Janice’s field of view growing wide and distorted. 

   Her hair spilled out around her, some of it falling in front of her face - now little more than patterned ink on her skin - turning from brown to shocking pink, with occasional flashes of blue. As she continued to roll, the hair wrapped around her, pressing flat into her skin, forming a geometric pattern of pink and blue around her. By now, she was half giddy with the sensation of rolling, her body shifting a little each time she rolled over one of her seams, a slight vibration carrying through her body. It felt good, but still she craved more - she was a soccer ball now, and she wanted to be played with. To feel the impact of a kick against her, to soar through the air, to bounce over grass and into the goal. 

   She was so distracted by the thoughts of being used, she barely noticed she’d rolled to a stop, face pressing against the ground one more time, all trace of her mouth or ears lost, only a gleaming new logo marking where her face once had been. She laid still for a while, resting up against the shelves, losing track of time until someone approached, their footsteps sending vibrations through the floor and into Janice’s sensitive body. 

 “Urgh… who left all this lying around?” the voice was weary - a member of staff, Janice guessed, glad at least for the chance to be properly on the shelves, on proud display for anyone looking for a new soccer ball, for her. Warm hands picked her up, gently squeezing her body, spinning her around, a flash of blue uniform before she was set down on the shelves, gazing out at other soccer balls just like her. Well, almost like her: none of the others had her colours, the best colours. 

 She watched the member of staff reach down and pick up the discarded clothes, barely registering that they had all once been hers. They didn’t seem important, now. Now, she just had to wait for someone to buy her, the chance to be used, to be played with. 

   A short while later, Janice could hear more footsteps approaching, the friendly chatter of a family. As they grew closer, Janice willed them to spot her, to choose her, rejoicing as she felt hands around her, lifting her up once again.

   “Oh, how about this one? It’s perfect!” The young woman spun the soccer ball around a few times, quickly checking the price on the sticker, now proudly bearing the words ‘JANICE SOCCER BALL’. 

   “Sure thing, Courtney, just hurry up or your friends are going to start playing without you…”

   Courtney tucked her new soccer ball under her arm, heading for the checkout, though Janice was too excited to pay much attention: she was finally going to be played with, and she couldn’t wait…