Rebecca is turned into human graffiti

Rebecca’s eyes shot open as everyone in front of her snatched a nearby can of paint. The leader and his girlfriend picked up the Queen’s brushes and tools. They all flashed her a wicked grin and tried to come closer, but the bound detective kept kicking to keep them at bay. The green haired girl threw the contents of a mysterious bucket on the floor of the trolley. Rebecca soon found herself unable to pull her feet up from the ground. She read the label of the bucket. It said superglue. Now she could do nothing but wiggle to try to stop them. The group began their work on her.

Sometime later, the gang stepped into the open streets outside the alley, pulling behind them the trolley cart that held Rebecca. Her hands were still cuffed and her feet were firmly stuck to the floor, leaving her with no way to stop bystanders from marveling at the piece of art her body had become. They finished the drawing of the pig on her stomach, adding a drooled-on police badge on his mouth.

Her breasts were colored with bright red and blue paint while an old timey scale was drawn around them, to seemingly weight them. Her arms and legs were covered in uneven black and white stripes. Her ankles had painted on chains. On her back there was the face of another angry pig, wearing a riot helmet and tapping a baton in his hands. Her butt had police tape drawn across it. On her face, each of her cheeks had a giant law enforcement emblem on them. Around the rest of her skin there were random splashes of color. In fact, the only part of her anatomy 100% free of paint was her crotch, as they felt that her pubic hair was adornment enough.

She was still donning her tie, hat and cut-cloth collar. While she normally would appreciate being left with some sort of clothes, that wasn’t the case now, as they only accentuated her ridiculous look. Not to mention that they covered nothing. Honestly, as upset as she was from the whole situation, she was still impressed that they managed to paint so much in so little time, not more than fifteen minutes must have passed since they started.

They kept walking down the block, intent on carrying her to a secret location. Everyone on the street kept turning their heads to observe her. Cars slowed down and honked when they passed by. Some even started to cluster around her and take pictures. They all seemed to be believe she was some sort of street artist with a message against police brutality. They were even convinced that her cringing expression and pleading eyes were part of the act. A notion that she had no way to refute and was encouraged by the punks pulling her trolley.

They kept moving, crossing the park and several more blocks. Rebecca kept being the center of attention through it all, attracting more and more spectators. Being in the spotlight of so many eyes had heart beating out of her chest and was making her feel pretty warm. Sadly, the paint and glue seemed to be sweat proof.

Their path took them through an empty lot that exited at the entrance of an underpass. Their shortcut meant that they lost their followers, but any relief Rebecca felt was completely nullified by the fact that she was now in front of a much transited highway. The group pulled out the other handcuffs and used them to secure the trolley to a traffic sign. Why were they stopping there of all places? Her question was answered when she noticed the graffiti next to her. It was a giant mural of a cop beating down a civilian. How thematic.

“This is your stop. We are going to leave you now. I hope you enjoy bringing art into the lives of the hundreds of people that get stuck here at rush hour."

She didn’t.