Laci’s stomach did a delightful double flip as the employee absently affixed a price sticker to her chest. It was the last piece of the costume, unwittingly given to her and signaling something new: that Laci was property now, able to be bought and sold. As he left, Laci bit her lip with no one looking.

It had been a dare. A silly, little dare from Yvette when they saw the costume in the shop across the mall. Put it on and sit in the display window of the toy store for five minutes. Fifteen. Thirty. Two hours. Each increase came with a bigger prize, but the greatest prize was simply bragging rights. Laci had never won any of Yvette’s dares; she had always been the less daring, the less confident. But this time, Laci was determined to win.

There was nothing to being a doll. Sit. Smile. Though it began as a façade, that simple happiness did not take long to soak into Laci until it was real. She had thought sitting there for so long would bring her to boredom, but had never realized that the imaging’s of a doll would be so vivid.

She overheard an excited description of a tea party, and instantly thought herself at one, sitting at a table of pink plastic, her Owner towering over her. Laci’s arms would flip and flop as she was sat in the chair, her plush squeezed by giant hands. She’d sit across from a lion, a witch, and a warrior, her mitten hands occasionally sipping invisible tea. But when the customers and conversation moved away, Laci’s mind returned to the toy store. Sitting. Smiling.

Laci wondered if any of the shoppers considered purchasing her. Her heart picked up speed. Oh, God, how embarrassing would that be? For some random person to walk over to her, to read the price on her sticker, to decide she was worth it. All of herself consigned to dollhood for the price of $10.00.

What would Laci do if someone did that? Well, she would make sure to keep perfectly still and act like a doll, at least until the dare was over. She was going to win that, no matter what. When the time limit was passed, she would stand up, calmly and easily explain to the person who mistakenly purchased her that she was human. And then she would leave and go back to her human life.

Laci frowned, but not enough for anyone to see, before quickly restoring her smile. That excited, delighted thrill had vanished. So, she went back to her imagining. When the time of the bet had passed, Laci would work up the courage, overcome her blushing embarrassment, and hesitantly introduce herself. She would explain the bet, explain that she wasn’t a doll, and ask to go home.

But Laci’s Owner wouldn’t simply let her go. There would be a wicked smile, a teasing laugh. How could Laci have been so foolish to pretend to be a doll? So stupid to be bought? She’d try and explain, weakly, it was a bet. A dare. Just a game that went too far. She wasn’t a doll, she wasn’t property. And to all that, her Owner would simply reply with a receipt.

Laci-Doll:           $10.00

She would blanche, seeing that number. She was so cheap. Her Owner would push Laci, knocking her into a pile of plush toys in a toy box. Her arms and legs would go numb, it would be hard to wriggle out, and Laci would have to look up to her Owner, to ask, to plead, to be let out. But her Owner would tell Laci that she needed to learn to be a good toy, and shut the lid on her, locking her away with the other toys.

Laci blinked, returning to reality. Sitting. Smiling. Her stomach churned at the thought that people were looking at her, thinking about buying her. It made her feel lightheaded, weak, and helpless. It would be so humiliating to be bought.

Looking around, she bit her lip, hoping that’s exactly what happened.