A limousine was sent to pick up Tara the next night.  She’d spent almost as long preparing as the previous night, going back and forth with Sasha as to the kind of impression she wanted to give.  In the end, she went with “be yourself, but dressed up a bit”.  So she went down to the limo in a halter-top dress that fell to mid-calf.  The fabric was mostly black, but had a bright orange stripe wound into it that spiralled down her body.

The driver said nothing about the dress, but when Marie met her at the door she grinned.  “Oh, that’s a great look on you.  Where’d you get the dress?”

“Sasha’s design.  And also Sasha.”  Tara twirled about to show how it clung to her legs.  “I’ve done some kickboxing in a similar design, it’s really easy to move in it.”

“Very nice.  Shoes in the cabinet there by the door.”

Tara slipped out of her walking shoes, and tucked them away where indicated.  “I’m surprised.”

“That I met you?  Our butler only works days, evening guests are rare.”

“No, that there isn’t anyone in the cabinet.”

Marie giggled.  “Oh!  We don’t generally turn people into anything quite so simple as shoes.  Have you tried it?  What’s it like?”

Tara grinned.  “I haven’t, but I do own a pair.  They’re incredibly comfortable, and they seem happy enough.  Honestly, I think they had a bit of a foot fetish.  Now they’re in love with my feet and it’s... a little weird if I think about it too much.  But they’re happy, and I’m happy.  And your chandelier seems happy enough as well.  Curious about something... probably me, I guess he doesn’t see too many new faces?”

Marie shrugged.  “One of Dad’s.  Tried to cheat on a business deal, and Dad’s contracts have some... interesting penalty clauses.”

Tara eyed the woman.  “Did you write them?”

“I may have suggested something of the sort,” she replied with a poorly suppressed grin.  “Come on, the others are eager to meet you properly.”

“Really?” Tara asked, following along behind Marie.  The entry hall was bigger than her condo, two stories tall with a broad staircase sweeping up the right side to a balcony that ringed the room.  Marie led her to an oak-paneled dining room with comfortable looking chairs, and a table that could only seat eight people.

“Tara, my Mother, brother Richard Junior, and father.  You all met her at the restaurant last night.”

Tara curtsied as Sasha had taught her.  “Pleased to meet you.”

Mrs. H chuckled softly.  “So polite.  And yet I see fire in those eyes.  You’ll be an interesting one, I don’t doubt.”

“I’ll do my best.  I’m... puzzled at all the attention, though.”

Mrs. H waved it off.  “Richard will explain to you after dinner.  No business talk at the table.”

“Of course.”  Tara sat at a place marked with her name, and both Richards took their seats a moment later.  The food was better than the restaurant had been, though it was somewhat simpler fare.  Still three courses worth, but hearty food instead of showy.  When Tara said that, Marie grinned and went on to extol the virtues of the family chef.

Marie and Tara dominated much of the conversation, chattering brightly about all kinds of things.  Some gossip, some about designs and dresses – Marie was delighted at how the colour of Tara’s dress was woven into it in a way that would be impossible to produce mundanely.  Tara hardly even noticed when the topic turned to Ursula, and became a casual but probing interrogation of what she thought of the woman.  They’d been good enough friends at work, and Tara had occasionally seen her outside of that context, but rarely for anything more than a jog in the park or a casual coffee before work.  She told what she could, trying to paint her in a positive light.

Richard Junior interrupted at the end.  “See?  She’s a good person.  You didn’t have to...”

“No business at the table,” said his father, and that was that.

Once dinner was over, Richard Senior shooed Marie away, and led Tara and his son to a room with two rows of deep comfortable chairs, all facing the far wall.  He spun one around, and gestured Tara to the one opposite, and waited until she’d settled to sit down.  “So.  Shall we start with RJ or you?”

“Why is she even part of this conversation?” asked RJ.

“She has useful insights and needs to understand our position on matters of magic.”

RJ frowned.  “How does magic relate to what you did to Ursula?  Other than the obvious.”

“Not the point.  The point is you have an arranged marriage ahead of you, and obvious dalliances compromise it.”

“Ursula isn’t a dalliance!  I love her.”

Tara looked RJ over.  She’d seen him a few times at the gym.  He seemed in decent enough condition, so he was training with someone.  His poise belied his age, however.  Looking more closely she figured him for barely twenty.  “How many people have you declared your love to?” she asked.

RJ shook his head.  “That’s not the point.”

“I suspect it is very much the point.  Your father is trying to teach you something, though I’ll admit I’m not quite sure what.”

“A fortuitous combination of timing and opportunity.  Your friend was the first of his crushes to be available inexpensively.  I was attempting to illustrate the benefits of being able to transform one’s partner.”

“You wanted to teach me to enjoy turning people into toys?” growled RJ.  “That’s the point?”

“Did you?” asked Tara, avidly.

RJ blushed hotly and looked away.  “That’s not...”

“It is precisely the point.  The marriage contract will give you control over Kendra’s form fifty percent of the time.”

“And give her control over my form the other fifty?  No thanks.”

“Seven percent.  One weekend per month.”

“And the rest of the time?”  Tara asked.

“Both can be whatever they want to be.  With the exception of certain specified public appearances.”

“And what does Kendra want to be with her half of the time?”

“Something to do with horses, no doubt,” muttered RJ darkly.  “I suppose she’ll want to turn me into one.”

“One weekend a month as a horse doesn’t sound too bad.  I’ve spent most Monday afternoons as a pony for the past few months.  There are some little girls who love riding a pastel pony, and are sure to be there to meet me.  It’s great fun,” admitted Tara.  “One of the highlights of my week.”

“How can that possibly be fun?”  RJ shook his head.

“Have you tried it?”

“Well...”

Tara grinned.  “You guys have all the best toys.  I’m sure you could spend an afternoon as a horse.  Or... perhaps as a centaur.  That way you’d still be partially yourself.  Running around on four powerful legs is great fun.”

The younger Richard sighed.  “I suppose I could try...  You seem to have interesting ideas.  What would you turn Kendra into if you had control?”

Tara clucked her teeth softly as she considered it.  “I don’t know her.  She might enjoy spending time as a pretty centaur with big boobs.  Would that appeal to you?”

“Other than the breasts?  Not especially.”

“Okay then.  Imagine your wet dream fantasy girl.  She has huge boobs.  What’s her face like?”

RJ shuddered a little.  “Not those vapid puffy lips that... I mean I wouldn’t know about that.  Pretty.  Not overdone.  Friendly.”

“And her hair?  Long, short, blond, redhead?”

RJ’s eyes lit up.  “Long red hair, yeah.  And maybe freckles to match.”

“Anything else?  A tail?”  At RJ’s curious look she grinned.  “Oooh.  Tell me about the tail you just saw.”

“A fox tail, to go with the hair.  And maybe matching ears?”

“You could turn her into that.”

RJ sucked in a sudden breath.  “Oh.  But... I’d rather turn Ursula into that.”

Tara shrugged.  “Then turn Kendra into a horse during your half of the month, and make love to a prettified Ursula.”

There was a loud giggle from outside the room.  Richard Senior rolled his eyes.  “You might as well come in, Marie.”

Marie bounced into the room, grinning madly.  “I knew I liked you.  That’s a wicked idea.”

“Would it work?”

“Kendra would love to spend all her time as a horse.  Or maybe a centaur, if you put that idea in her head.”

“What about public appearances?” asked RJ.

Marie’s grin turned wicked.  “The duplicator can store patterns of anything or anyone.  Turn Ursula into Kendra for those.”

RJ looked flabbergasted.  “You’re proposing I marry Kendra, then spend all my time with Ursula?”

“Kendra would be happy.  You would be happy.  Ursula would be happy.  Dad would presumably get his contract, so he’d be happy too.  What’s not to like?”

“It just seems... wrong.  There’s no fidelity clause in the contract?”

“In this day and age?” laughed Marie.  “Hardly.  Just a ‘no public spectacles’ clause.  And as long as Ursula’s willing to act at least a little like Kendra, kissing her in public wouldn’t count.”

RJ looked starry-eyed.  “Why didn’t someone say so?”

“I did!  You just wouldn’t listen!”

RJ stood up and bowed to his father.  “My apologies.  The whole ‘arranged marriage’ thing blinded me to the possible upsides.”

The family patriarch smiled magnanimously.  “You’ll find that your toy has a wider range of options tonight.  Go talk to Ursula.  This deal only works if she’ll play along.”

RJ left the room so rapidly that Tara was surprised he didn’t skid out and fall as he turned the corner.

“One matter settled.”  Mr. H eyed his daughter.  “I suppose I can’t be rid of you for the other.”

“Whyever would you want that, father dear?” Marie asked sweetly.

“Because this is your fault, and I won’t have you being smug at me.”

Marie arranged herself in a chair next to Tara’s, lounging in it insouciantly.  “I would not dream of it.  Especially if...  Oh, father!  Really?”

He snorted.  “Remains to be seen.  There are risks.”

“Risks?” asked Tara.

“My daughter has been... agitating for better treatment of the transformed.  This has put me in a difficult spot, as trying to acquire them and revert their changes to ask them has been... challenging, and largely futile.  The ones we’ve been able to ask, have almost uniformly said they’re very happy as they are.”

“No surprise there,” muttered Tara.

“Hm?  Go on.”

“How much time have you spent as an object?” Tara asked.

“An hour or so, here and there,” replied Mr. H.  “Marie has spent... rather longer.”

Marie giggled.  “I spent two months as a fountain in the back yard last summer.”

“Wouldn’t that get boring after a while?” asked Tara.  “Or did you just sort of fade out and lose time?”

“Bit of both, though I could see and would wake up when things happened.  The water flow was soo soothing.  When it was time to change back, I really thought I was a fountain, not a person.  Is that what you’re talking about?  Is it like that for everyone?”

“That’s how I’ve found it.  With the ball, it’s easy to fall into the mindset of the object, faster if others help you along by treating you like one.  Dawn’s even better, she can make you think you’ve always been a duster, and persuade others as well.  That got a bit messy, but...”  Tara sighed fondly.  “It can be even more fun if she’s responsible about it.”

“Right.  So... most people like being objects?”

Tara nodded.  “I’ve only encountered one that hated it.  She’d been stuck as a sex toy for months and found the whole thing an ordeal.  Others changed by the same item were happy to be used.”

“One Sandy Field, now registered as a mannequin in your possession.  Is she happy?” asked Mr. H.

“Reasonbly so.  I think she’ll get used to it in time, though she has asked for the option to become something more fun later.”

“So you did rescue someone!” exclaimed Marie.  “How did you... of course.  The whole test thing.  So instead of trying to retrieve random people...”

“Legally registered objects,” interjected her father.

Marie waved her hand dismissively.  “Involuntary servitude by another name.  We’ve turned millions of people into slaves.”

“They’re not slaves.  We are not forcing them to work.”

“They’re worse than that!” cried Marie, hotly.  “They’re not even people any more.”

Tara frowned.  “Just a minute ago you were giddy about not being a person.”

“That was voluntary.  If people want to be things, sure, go for it, more power to them and whoever they want to give themselves to.  But this whole business of plucking random people off the street to be your toy...  It’s monstrous.”

Mr H rolled his eyes.  “You are an idealist, and don’t remember what it was like before the system was put in place.  I can’t imagine Tara does either, and yet...”

Tara shrugged.  “I looked into it once I got caught up in the DME’s rules.  Were there really people just... living in the streets?  That’s the part that I find so unlikely.  How does that happen?”

“It doesn’t, not any more.  The indigent are almost all negative-valued, and end up in some collection or another before they can cause trouble.  Same with criminals.”

Tara nodded along.  “My boss has one of the justice system’s surplus petrifiers.  But they don’t use them much any more, as I understand.”

“We changed the rules so that criminals would instead end up transformed for their victims.  Up until the mass production of magic advanced enough to make it inexpensive, it was the only way an average person might get to transform someone.  One of our more popular legislative changes.  Additionally, the recidivism rate is far lower now.  I like to think it’s the personal touch that’s doing it.  Quite a few of them end up going back to their owners once their term is done.”

“Extra motivation to treat them nicely, I guess,” chuckled Tara.  “So I guess the question left to me – and perhaps to Marie as well – is why are people with entry level jobs so cheap?  Surely they’re worth more than a car.”

“Ah.  Well.  That goes back to the founding of the DME.  I wasn’t personally involved, I was just a boy at the time, but my father was influential in the drafting of it.  Ultimately it came down to a simple reason.  The rich still wanted their toys, and didn’t want to share.”

“That’s it?  That’s why the price is so low?”

Mr. H. laughed resoundingly at that.  “Oh my dear.  They had to fudge the numbers massively to get them that high.  If we’d gone with a simple actuarial value, half the population would be negative.”

Tara frowned.  “Really?”

“Yes, anyone under the median income costs more than they pay in taxes, often much more.  It’s not until you’re into the top quintile that you find people whose true value is significantly positive.”

“So why make average people so expensive?”

“Partly to keep the public on board with the plan.  I think the main reason is that they didn't want to share their power to turn a shop-girl into a piece of clothing or artwork.”

“Or a toy,” muttered Marie.  “It’s practically rape.  State-sanctioned rape.”

Tara winced.  “That’s... truer than I’d like.  Dawn would have ended up as a sex toy if I hadn’t intervened.  With the same person I rescued Sandy from.  I mean, it’s not like she hasn’t been one with us, but it’s different when you can choose.”

“Legally, it is not rape if they’re not a person.  A sculpted piece of rubber is not, per the definition in the law, a vagina, no matter how similar it may look.”

Marie crossed her arms over her chest.  “I bet it feels like just as much of a violation.”

Tara raised an eyebrow.  “You don’t know?”

Marie blushed and shook her head.  “We haven’t quite... I mean I’m looking forward to...  You know?”

Tara glanced at Marie’s father and smiled.  “Both of us, I believe.”

“Father?” Marie asked incredulously.

“Your mother has some very interesting desires to play out on her weekend per month.”

“How many ways do you have to turn someone into a sex toy?” asked Tara with a grin.

“Last I counted, eleven.  Only five of which are specifically for that purpose.”

“Interesting.  I haven’t tried the toy-maker that Trinian acquired.  It... sounds like it’s a bit more fun than what the ball does.  More addictive, too.  Is that what you’ve seen?”

Mr. H. blushed faintly, then narrowed his eyes.  “I don’t see how that’s germane.”

“But it is!  A blissful existence as a toy is a very different story from one where you feel tormented by it.  Wouldn’t you agree, Marie?”

“Well...  I suppose if they grow to like it...  There still should be consent, damn it.”

“In a sense, there is,” replied her father smoothly, back on comfortable ground.  “It is easy to stay out of the hands of the wealthy, or at least not get stuck there.  Stay on good terms with your family.”

“Right!  The DME will restore anyone with a family connection.  If asked... so if nobody asks.  Wait, but if you’re rich enough, can’t you just buy out the family, too?  How much would it take to buy out my family, for example.”

“Amusing you should ask that, I did ask the private investigator to give me that number.  It turns out it is impossible at present.  There are numerous young children in your immediate family.  You’re quite safe.”

Tara grinned.  “Oh!  Right, I ran across another family that had suddenly sprouted a bunch of young kids for that reason.  Is that impacting the birth rate?”

“There has been quite the baby boom.  It’s for the best, it barely makes up for one of the largest unanticipated effects.  We had models for how many people would be lost due to negative valuation, but we’ve lost far more than anticipated.”

“Form 442,” replied Tara.

“Exactly.  We’ve been alarmed by the rate at which those are being used, it’s increasing year by year and overtaking the birth rate.  Far too many people seem eager to opt out of being human at all.”

Tara and Marie shared a giggle.  “Yeah, I get it.  I’ve been tempted, but I like my work.  The grocery store clerks, on the other hand...  They don’t see life improving, so it’s easier to check out.”

“So why let people get grabbed off the street at all, then?” asked Marie.  “It sounds like there’s plenty of volunteers.”

“Several factors.  One of which is that most volunteers give themselves to a friend, not some rich collector.”

“And the people who can’t be bothered to even get a basic job are pretty much volunteering, anyway,” mused Tara.  “If they cared, they could work to be too valuable to ‘acquire’.  How many of Ursula’s value become registered objects in a given year?”

“Very few.  Vanishingly small numbers, far less than used to get murdered.  Most of the rich didn’t get that way by spending tens of thousands of dollars for a dress, or a pair of shoes.”

“There must be a few rich people that enjoy the power trip it gives them,” grumbled Marie.

“Of course,” agreed her father.  Tara nodded along as well.  “But quite often they’re unwilling to spring for the extra cost of keeping someone for more than a week or two.”

“So your average shopgirl walking home might end up as someone’s toy for a weekend, and that’s okay?” asked Marie, incredulously.

“On balance, we believe it is better than what came before.  When she is restored, she gets compensated for any lost wages, and comes to no physical harm.”

“What about the mental harm?” accused Marie.  “Would you like to be turned into a fuck toy and abused for a weekend without a chance to say no?”

“Ah...”

Tara laughed.  “The answer he’s looking for is ‘Yes, if it’s the right person’.  Which is your answer as well.”

Marie blushed incandescently.  “I...”  She sighed, deflating into the chair.  “Yeah.  I guess.  But with the wrong person, ew.”

“Which is what this project is all about.  Finding those who are suffering, and relocating them.  For that, we need someone who can locate them.”

“And you think I can be that person,” mused Tara.

“You discovered this sense how long ago?”

“About two months.”

“You can detect transformed people from across a room already.  How far do you suppose you can refine it with dedicated training?”

Tara perked up at the thought.  “Training... my ability?  I’m used to training, but mostly as a physical process... though even there there’s definitely a mental aspect.  That part sounds good.  But earlier you mentioned risk.”

“Some people are unkind.  They own registered objects not out of a sense of charity, or for fun.  They want to torment, or demean, or simply exult in the power to make someone be what they do not wish to be.  They will not give up their toys easily.”

“That’s horrifying!” cried Marie.

“That’s reality,” replied Tara wearily.  “There are assholes in the world.  Not too many, but if we don’t push back against it... more and more people suffer.  We don’t have to start with the hard cases.  I’m sure there are plenty of people like Gordon who would likely be horrified to learn that he’s torturing someone.”

“How do you know that?” asked Marie.

“He got zero-valued for a few weeks for fraud.  I turned him into a toy for those two and gave him to someone... appreciative.  Now he’s trying to arrange his life so he can go back.  I’m sure he believed all his toys were just as eager.  Despite knowing of at least one person who very much was not.”

“More commonly, people get bored of their toys,” added Mr. H.  “They may not be willing to give up their favourite, but the fourth pair of shoes that has been in the closet for a year?  They won’t care.  They might not even notice.”

Tara shot him an incredulous look.  “Are you planning to steal them?”

“That’s one of the reasons we have the duplicator.  If we whisk away a pair of shoes and return a precise duplicate, where’s the harm?”

“The DME might have a thing or two to say about appropriate transfer of ownership.”

“That won’t be an issue if we can prove we’re only going after people who are suffering.  They’ll do a private transfer so that it won’t be obvious what happened.”

“So the risk is someone finding out and going after me because I helped you steal their toys?  How serious of a risk?”

Mr. H. shrugged.  “You might end up replacing the toy for a few days until the DME can retrieve you formally.  We can expedite that process.  I don’t expect any to turn to violence.  The DME takes a dim view of that, and nobody like that is going to want to get handed over to you as an object.”

Tara giggled.  “Pity.  I bet I could win them over in time.”

“Okay.”

Tara blinked at Marie.  “Sorry, what?”

“Win me over.  Turn me into one of your household objects, and show me that it can be a good life.”

Tara raised her eyebrow, then turned to face Mr. H.  “Are you okay with this idea?”

“Marie has certain responsibilities, but none that require her presence for the next week.  After that, we can negotiate further details.  Your negotiating position would be improved if you were to sign on with the project and start training...”

Tara laughed.  “I didn’t already say yes?  Yes, I’m in.  We’ll rescue as many unhappy objects as we can.”

“Yay!  So what kind of happy object will I be?”

Tara studied the younger woman.  “You might make a good duster...  Sasha’s very assiduous about cleaning.”

“Mmm.  Tempting.  But I’d rather be something you use personally.”

“I’ve had trouble finding a good headband to keep the sweat out of my eyes.  Not many people like the idea of getting all sweaty...”  Tara paused, grinning at the stars in Marie’s eyes.  “Well.  I think we’ve found a niche for you.”

Marie clapped her hands eagerly.  “And you’ll know when I want to try something else, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“This is going to be awesome!”

Mr. H. stood up and offered Tara his hand.  She rose and shook it.  “So we have a very weird but interesting deal, I take it?”

“We do.  I believe Marie is eager to get started.  I suspect she’ll also have ideas about your training.”

“Yep!  I’ll try to project different emotions at my new owner.”

Her father rolled his eyes.  “There will be no formal ownership.  Just an understanding that my daughter is willingly in your care.  Do try not to lose her.”

“Aww.”

“Marie...”

Marie giggled.  “Okay, okay, I’ll keep my dangerous fantasies out of this.”

Tara snickered.  “We’re going to get along so well.  Especially once you meet Dawn.”

On the way out they ran into RJ and what looked like some kind of cyborg.  The woman standing beside him had glossy pink synthetic skin, and silver ball joints at her shoulders and elbows.  The dress she was wearing undoubtedly hid other artficialities.  It took Tara a few beats to recognize her face.  “Ursula?”

“In the flesh!  Well, in the... whatever this is.”  Ursula squeaked a finger along her forearm.  “Feels really nice, though.  Thanks for getting me this reprieve.”

“Reprieve?” asked Tara.  “You didn’t like being a toy?”

“Nah, that’s been great fun.  It’s the bellows he was using to let me talk that were no fun.”

“I tried to breathe into her directly,” RJ said abashedly.  “Just didn’t have the puff for more than a word or two.”

Tara hugged Ursula.  “You two have fun, now.”

“Oh we will!”