He has to do something

Owen knelt beside her, thumb brushing the marker on her cheek. “Paige,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Baby, it’s me. Owen.”

No response.

He grabbed the edge of the sheets and rubbed at the words. Hard. The marker smeared fast, black streaks spreading across her cheek like tears. He kept going, wiping, scrubbing, until the letters were gone, nothing left but faint residue and reddened skin from the pressure.

He leaned close, cupped her face with both hands and searched her eyes. “Paige. Come on. Look at me. Please.”

Her green eyes stayed glassy, unfocused. That soft, empty smile never wavered.

Nothing.

Owen’s shoulders dropped. He pressed his forehead to hers, wet hair sticking to his skin, tears mixing with the water still dripping from her. “I’m getting you out,” he said quietly. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you here.”

He straightened and wiped his face roughly with his sleeve.

Garrett could come back any minute.

The thought had barely finished crossing Owen’s mind when the doorbell rang downstairs, sharp, insistent chimes echoing through the quiet upper floor. The front door bell. Someone at the door? Shit! Garrett had to be back.

Owen’s head snapped toward the sound. No time. No time to grab clothes for Paige, no time to find a phone, no time to think of a smart escape. Just seconds.

He spun in place, eyes darting around the master bedroom. Wallet woman still squatting on the side table, money protruding from her mouth and pussy. The bed with Paige limp and wet on the black sheets, bruises darkening on her skin. The open bathroom door. The dresser. Then his gaze landed on the desk in the corner, sleek glass surface, a large monitor glowing with an open window.

Next to the keyboard: a roll of clear tape. A black marker lying beside it like it had been set down mid-use.

Owen stepped closer, heart in his throat. The screen showed a product guide, clean white background, black text, professional layout like an online manual.

Mr. Jester’s Identity Realigning Tape™

Reprogram. Redefine. Reassign.

Instructions for use:

Tear off a piece of our proprietary tape.

Using the included black marker, write the desired identity/role/behavior you wish the subject to adopt. Be specific, vague commands may yield unpredictable results.

Apply the tape directly to exposed skin (forehead recommended for fastest uptake).

Once contact is made, the subject will immediately assume the new identity. WARNING: No memory of prior self shall be preserved unless specified in the written label.

Tape may be removed after initial application, the ink bonds permanently to the skin beneath, allowing for clean removal and future reprogramming.

Note: Effects are permanent until erased and overwritten. Do not use it on famous subjects without proper authorization. Mr. Jester’s Products LLC is not liable for…

Owen’s breath caught. All the pieces slammed together. This was it. The tape. The roll Garrett carried. The way he’d slapped it on Paige’s forehead in the street, the way her eyes had gone blank in half a second. This was the cause of everything he’d seen, this cheap-looking clear tape and whatever sick chemistry was in the ink. Write it, stick it, done. And once stuck, the words seeped through to the skin. That’s why Paige had no visible tape on her forehead now, Garrett had peeled it off after the change took hold, leaving only the marker residue he could wipe away later if he wanted to swap her role again.

He heard hurried footsteps coming from down below now, coming up the stairs fast. Multiple sets. Boots pounding on the stairs.

No time.

Owen snatched the roll, tore off a quick strip, about four inches and grabbed the marker, uncapped it with his teeth. His hand shook so bad the first letter came out crooked as he wrote what he felt would help him get Paige out of here quickest.

He had to get Paige out. Had to protect her. Had to–

The double doors slammed open.

Two muscular women burst in, blonde, military buzz cuts, broad shoulders, wearing tight black tank tops and cargo pants. Security. They moved like they’d done this before, fast, coordinated. One tackled him low around the waist, the other grabbed his arms, slamming him face-down onto the carpet. His breath whooshed out. The marker flew from his hand, skittering across the floor. One of the women pinned one of his wrists behind his back, knee digging into his spine. He gasped, vision spotting.

Footsteps, slower and more casual, now entered the room.

A young man stepped into view. Skinny, greasy dark-blond hair hanging in his eyes, smudged glasses, oversized hoodie and black shorts. The same voice from the video call. The same smug little smirk.

Garrett.

“So you’re the unwelcome guest my maids told me about,” he said, voice whiny but pleased with itself. He walked closer, hands in his pockets, looking down at Owen like he was inspecting roadkill. “Related to this fine piece of meat, are you?” He nodded toward Paige on the bed. “What are you, brother? Husband? Or maybe just some friend who wishes she’d put out? Well, yo–”

Garrett stopped mid-stride, standing right beside Owen now, close enough that his sneakers were inches from Owen’s face.

Owen didn’t think. Just acted.

The hand still holding the torn tape strip was free, the one the women hadn’t pinned it down yet. His free hand shot up. He aimed for his calf closest to him and slapped the tape there.

Luckily making contact with his skin.

Garrett’s eyes widened as he looked down. “NOOOOO… Waiiit–”

He stumbled back, clutching at his stomach like he’d been punched. The two blondes tightened their grips on Owen, knee harder into his back, both wrists now twisted until he choked out a grunt. Black spots danced in his vision.

Then Garrett spoke again, voice cracking, higher.

“Wait! You two…get off him this second!”

The pressure vanished. The women released him like he’d burned them. They scrambled back, standing at attention, faces blank.

Owen rolled onto his side, gasping, coughing. He pushed up onto his elbows, staring.

Garrett stood there, hands trembling, eyes wide behind his glasses. The tape strip was still stuck to his exposed skin, ink facing out. What Owen had scribbled on that piece of tape in a few panicked seconds, “MY GIRLFRIEND” in shaky letters, seemed to have taken hold.

Garrett blinked twice. Then his expression softened. A shy, almost sweet smile crept across his face as he looked down at Owen.

“Hey… babe,” he said quietly. “You okay? They didn’t hurt you too bad, did they?”

Note:

Access to the final chapters of this story (3000 words) can be attained via my Patreon, along with other chapters of stories I haven't posted publicly yet. Part 3 of ‘The Reality Altering Gun’, a comic I made is also available for members $5 and above.

Here's the link to part 1: https://e-hentai.org/g/3811253/8793b60683/

My Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/ThePurpleD3viL

My Discord: https://discord.gg/SXZQjsuwpA

My Deviantart: https://www.deviantart.com/thepurpled3vil