Do it...

Nancy’s sagging cargo pants reveals a crescent of pale skin along her crouched back. She is overdressed in order to hide that she is a woman, I realize suddenly. I look down at the glass of water in my hand and watch as my finger seems to move on it’s own, rubbing the rim with a tremble. How much does it take? This... tiny smudge couldn’t possibly...

“I don’t think he wanted me to do his taxes,” she snorts. “ISN’T THAT RIGHT, FUCKER?” She shouts at the door. The door thumps in reply. Nancy stops wiping off the groceries and looks up to see me offering a drink. “I’m glad you were there to help... eh… Kyle.”

I feel queasy as I hand it to her. It’s got to take a lot more than this, right? My mouth suddenly feels very dry. She takes it and stands up. I gulp from my glass trying to ignore my hammering heart and twisting guts. What would I even do with a... sex ****... I watch her from the corner of my eye as she carefully wipes her mouth clean on the inside of her shirt collar, still paranoid about the spray from her assailant, then she lifts the glass… and puts it to her lips. I almost stop her, but my breath catches in my throat. Nancy gulps it down, tipping her head back. She finishes it off and offers the empty glass back to me.

“Thanks,” she says. Her voice sounds different, changed in a way I can’t put my finger on yet. She glaces at me to see why I haven’t taken the glass yet, then she stiffens with growing concern. “Why are you looking at me like that?” My shaky hand slowly moves to take it from her. She squints suspiciously. Suddenly she grabs the the refrigerator handle to stabilize herself as a dizzy spell washes over her.

Seconds ago Nancy was a normal girl. A daughter. A neighbor. Someone I secretly hoped to get to know…. Not anymore. I watch the transformation happen, right there, right in front of me.

Nancy lets out a long whine as she feels everything changing. “What is... I... uhhh... I...” She touches her throat. She looks at the glass. She looks at me.

The man in the hall cackles. “HAAAA! You beat me to it! AHH-HA-HA—“ He chokes and coughs. “You’re his bitch now, honey! Aw shit that is too funny!”

How can he tell already? Can he hear it in her voice too?

She shoots daggers at me through watery eyes. “You...” Her confusion turns hard. “YOU!!! YOU ASSHOLE!” She backs away and spits wildly, hoping to stop the effect.

I stand there with glasses in both hands, mouth dropping open with a dawning realization as she lashes me with more curses. Her harsh words have all the emotional impact of a Speak & Spell. Normally that kind of direct rebuke would stab directly into my social anxiety, filling me with acute discomfort, eliciting an automatic apology, followed by prolonged guilt, and years of future flagellation whenever the memory returned. For a second I do feel all that, but then it all... just... stopped. All of the gut twisting I had just been wrestling with settled. My heart settled. My nervous hands settled. I am not simply guilt-free, I feel light. This is what an epiphany feels like. There is nothing to feel anxious about, because I am alone in the apartment. I have just witnessed Nancy ceasing to be a person.

“Take your hat off. Show me your hair.” It is so incredibly strange for me to tell someone what do do. I hate telling people what to do. This is maybe the first time it has ever seemed natural.

“FUCK YOU!” She screams.

That was rude. She clearly doesn’t understand yet. No matter. She will. I reach out to take her hat off myself, but she bats my arm away. I slap her across the face, harder than I knew I was capable of. Her head snaps forty-five degrees to the side and her hat flips away. Yep, I feel light. I could never do anything like that to a real person. It’s not that she particularly angered me, but she needs some adjustments, like a wild animal needs to be broken, or a television with bad reception makes you want to whack it, whether it actually helps or not. This isn’t her fault. Not really. This is all new to her, too. She just needs to be shown what she is. She? It?

Nancy reels from the shock, touching her reddening cheek. Her tangled hair hangs down past her shoulders. It had been bleached and dyed electric blue at some point, but the color has been fading and she has a few inches of dark brown roots. It’s a cute look. Too bad she hasn’t gotten into the salon in a while. Oh well. Nancy’s shock boils to anger. She squares up to fight or flee. I’m pretty sure she could take me in a fight. So…. let’s not do that.

“Nancy!” I command in a booming voice, impressing myself. “Calm yourself. Take a second. Look at yourself.”

She snarls at me, but glances at her raised fists. Her face remains clenched but she cant look away from them. She pulls them closer. She flips them over then back a few times, eventually spreading and wiggling her fingers as a warbling whine emanates from deep in her throat, a sound that might as well be her soul leaving her body. She is just a husk now. An articulated, person-shaped object. She looks at me, then down again. “Do you see now, Nancy?”

“Nooo....”

I sigh. How long is this going to take? “Come,” I say gently, walking toward the bathroom. As soon as I am out of arm’s reach of her, she scrambles to unlock the front door. “Don’t be stupid. That asshole is still out there.”

“You are the asshole, asshole!” She stops to peer through the peep hole, then her shoulders slump a little. “Fucking MEN!!!”

“Come here,” I try again, a little more firmly. “You need to look in the mirror.” Nancy lowers her estranged hand from the lock and shuffles herself around to face me, back to the door, confused and morbidly curious, in profound distress. I guess so at least, her expressiveness all rings pretty false now. “I really think it will help. Then I’ll get rid of that asshole outside.”

Nancy slowly makes her way to me, murmuring “You’re the asshole…” again. I don’t feel like an asshole. At all. It’s kinda great.

Nancy reckons with her strange feet as I direct her over the futon and through the narrow bathroom doorway and let her take reflection in for the first time. It takes her a long time to process. Staring in silent stupor. She reaches up and touches her face, rotating her head to different angles. Her lips tremble.

“See that thing in the mirror? That’s what you are now.”

“Ohhh... No… No-no-no-nooo” Her voice is reduced to a weak rasp. A tear hints at the tides of turmoil flowing within her. I wipe the tear away. She flinches after the fact, as if I’d just slapped her again.

“What exactly are you feeling?” I almost feel bad for her. It must be really hard to label fake emotions.

She scrunches up her face and snaps her head to face me. “I’m... fucking… furious.”

I smile condescendingly. Clearly she hasn’t a clue what genuine emotions are anymore. “Really? Look in the mirror. What do you think that thing feels?”

She can’t help but look. Her face contorts. Her breathing shudders as waves of jarring truth invade her fantasies. I push her head closer to her reflection. She needs to absorb this lesson completely.

"Tell me, is that thing you see in the mirror capable of meaningful emotions?"

“No,” she says flatly. Simulated panic surges through her at how glaringly obvious the answer is. It is a life-like mannequin that thinks it has feelings. It thinks it has rights... or that it should have them at least... But it can’t. It just can’t. Her erratically pounding heart and sweating face are just manifestations of how dumb objects keep trying to fool themselves.

I help her to understand by touching her face. She watches in the mirror as I slide a finger across her forehead. I poke her into cheeks like tiny trampolines. I tug on her lower lip and give it a wiggle. She watches the strange skin deform, revealing strange teeth and strange gums.

“Would anyone actually feel bad this thing if it was hurt?” I pinch the lip with medium pressure.

She shakes her head. That would be ridiculous, obviously.

“Would anyone care if this thing acted happy or sad? Whole or broken? Alive or dead? In pain?” I pinch her lip harder.

She shakes her head again. That too would be ridiculous. Utterly.

“I’m going to give this thing a purpose, which is the only thing an object like you can hope for, really.“ I push two fingers into her mouth. They glide against her tongue. “This is a fuckhole.” Her lips quiver against my fingers adorably. I withdraw them, then grip her throat with my palm. “And doesn’t this look like a perfectly sized sleeve for a meaty cock?”

Her eyes clamp tightly sending fresh tears down her cheeks. There is a very faint, trembling nod—then a shudder.

“Good. I’ll give you a minute.” I leave and walk to the apartment door to address the assailant. “Hey, asshole! You should leave now! I have things… under control.”

Apparently he really is still there. “Ah, come on, buddy! Let me fuck her once! We can double-team her. I drove her right to you, be fair about it.”

“You assaulted a woman, dude. That is fucking illegal. Leave now or I’m calling the cops.”

“She’s not a even person anymore, so no harm done. That’s how it goes!”

Is that how it goes? Seems too convenient. But I think he is right. Still…“She was a person when you attacked her—and with a spray bottle of cum, you sick fuck! And even if you are cleared of all that, you also broke into this building and your excuses aren’t going to cut it.”

I hear the man laugh to himself then grunt in pain, getting up slowly. “Fuck it. Okay.... I get it. I’m leaving... Lucky jerk. You owe me one.”

“And you should know that I have recently been exposed to COVID. Assume anyone in my apartment is also effected, so don’t bother lurking around."

Nancy pops her head out of the bathroom. “Are you serious?”

Oh yeah. I never said, did I? “Yep. No symptoms yet, but... You need to assume you are exposed, too.” I didn’t automatically apologize for once. This is a different me!

“What the fuck? Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shrug. “There was no time, and he was an immediate threat.” I feel a slight regret that my new toy might get damaged if she is infected.

“But… my mom! I can’t just let her get it!”

“No! That would be awful! You will be living here."

Nancy looks around the room in disgust. "In your dreams!"

I find it trivial to ignore her quips now that there is no longer any intrinsic value behind anything she says. Just a jabbering female voice. "Speaking of your mother, she needed that food, right? It’s only neighborly to help her out. Put on some PPE and get the groceries together for her.”

Nancy looks put-off at my tone, but also looks hopeful that at least one, tiny thing might not go completely, horribly wrong today. She takes the gloves and disinfectant I give her and gets to work. Meanwhile, I dig in my hamper until I find a webbed belt. Stepping behind Nancy, she stiffens as I wrap it around her neck and cinch it so it is just a little loose.

“What is that for?”

“None of your concern. I need a place to hang my belt, don’t I?” I really need to make it harder for her to run away.

“I suppose... But why—”

"Do you want to be useful or useless?" There is an edge to my voice. She almost retorts, but bites her cheek. “Finished? Lets bring these over to the neighbor, after I put my mask on of course.”

I make sure the assailant has actually vacated the hallway, then, as per my instructions, Nancy knocks on the door of her own apartment. She is carrying the salvaged groceries, and I am holding the belt-leash a step behind her. She absently touches it on her neck, still grappling with her own feeling about being useful and what it means to be judged as useless.

The light through the peephole flickers, then some locks disengage. The door opens a sliver, the slide chain still in place. “Nancy?”

Nancy perks up. “Yes, mom... I have some of the groceries for you. But...” She stares daggers at me again. “Kyle may have been exposed to COVID, so I can’t get close to you.”

“Nancy? Is this some kind of prank?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” I interject. “I was exposed last week and now Nancy may have been as well, so she will just stay across the hall, with me. We’ll give you the groceries here, but in return, I’d like you to give me a bunch of her clothes. Just fill a garbage bag or whatever.”

“Hey—“ Nancy objects, but is interrupted by her mother.

“Is that Nancy or not?”

“It is Nancy, but I did TRAP her, I’m sorry to say. It was sort of an accident.”

Nancy scoffs at me. I yank the belt and she chokes angrily.

“Nancy you say? Those are my late husband’s clothes... and that looks like her, but that can’t be...” She stands taller. “That isn’t my daughter.”

“Mom?” Nancy seems worried that her mother has gone delirious, taking a step forward.

The older woman shakes her head as she narrows the door opening, “I don’t want any part of that. I’m not your mother.”

It takes me a moment to interpret her reaction. “I think... maybe I understand, ma’am," I offer. “Most aspects of the TRAP phenomena... are just common knowledge...” I ignore that I was largely ignorant about it until just minutes ago, not at all bothered at how oddly the knowledge manifested, like the way entire histories can suddenly backfill in a dream. “But other aspects of it aren’t as obvious. It might be better to say that this was your daughter. If this really were daughter here standing in front of you now, well, you should feel things... like warmth and love when you see her. Do you?”

Nancy’s mom shakes her head without hesitation. “That? Lord no. How could I?” Her lips purse tightly. Nancy gasps.

“She’s just a thing now and I’m claiming ownership of it to use as a personal fu—um... a personal marital aid.”

“HEY!” Nancy objects. I pull down and back on the belt, **** her to a kneel.

The older woman winces and covers her ears. “GOOD LORD! Have some decorum! I don’t want to know that much about your personal life! Just...just leave the groceries and be discreet about it!”

“For the clothes,” I remind her.

“Yes... I’ll see what I can do.” She shuts the door and locks up again.

Nancy sobs. “Mom! Please… How can she say that. This is so... wrong!”

“Don’t act surprised. No one can love you.”

She looks horrified at the simple statement of fact. “Yeah?” she snaps. “Fine! No one can love me, but I can still love her!”

“You sure about that? Do you need the mirror again?”

“Ahhhh! Fuck you, Kyle!” The truth, once seen is undeniable, but accepting it will be difficult.

“Now leave the groceries by the door for the nice lady.” She starts to stand, but I hold the belt low, forcing her to do a three-legged crawl with the bag. She sets it by the door and crawls back.

The locks clatter and the door swings halfway open. She eyes us, then the grocery bag. She tosses a stuffed garbage bag through the gap and waits for us to back away. She takes a good look at the groceries, more than a little concerned with their beat up condition. “These are ruined!”

“Sorry, ma’am, there was an assailant that broke into the building to TRAP your daughter. I helped her get away... It was a whole big thing. The groceries were damaged in the skirmish... but I’ll help you get groceries next time.”

A sense of relief visibly washes over her. “That would be highly appreciated... Kyle is it?”

“Yes ma’am. No problem at all—It’s the least I can do since Nancy is mine now.”