It was a sea of gray, beige, tan, and brown. Here and there, Robert spotted a suit in navy blue or black. But those were an exception. As if these accountants before him wanted to further their vocation's image as being boring. And, without a doubt, Robert knew it would be dull. Conventions for accountants always were.

"Bob!"

The shout made him turn around and spot Aden Shea walking toward him. Dressed in a not quite tasteful pastel pink suit. A bold choice and certainly it made him stand out in the sea of blandness.

"Aden. Good to see you." Robert shook his friend's hand. "Has it been a year again?"

"Guess so. Must have slept through it," Aden joked. "Like your suit. But something is missing."

Robert smoothed out non-existent wrinkles in his powder blue suit. Then opened his briefcase. "Of course, something is missing!" He pulled out a classical sleeping cap in a matching blue color. Pointy tip and bobble included.

"Slumber Squad!" Aden shouted as he pulled out a matching cap in pink. Placing it on his head.

They shared a laugh as Robert did the same. "Where is the rest of the squad?"

"Wyatt's company sent someone else this year." Aden scratched his head. Making the bobble of his cap bounce around with it. "And you remember Hunter telling us he had a fiance last year? Well, they are married now. And he put a bun in her oven. So, he declined to come this year."

"Peter's company pulled a surprise audit," Robert clued his friend in on the fate of the last member of the slumber squad. "Doubt we will see him this year too. Shall we head inside?"

"Of course," Aden shouted. "Time to catch a little nap."

Robert grinned, but it wasn't quite as big as his friends. It all was falling apart. The first time he got sent to one of these conventions, it bored him to death. But his company kept sending him. Then he had met Aden and the rest of the Slumber Squad. They shared a twisted sense of humor and together, they had at least a little fun.

"There. B-Three," Bob said and pointed out the room the first presentation was held in. Pushing in and taking their seat, Robert was a little surprised. There were double the security guards than usual. Shrugging, he leaned back. "What's first on the agenda?"

"A nap?" Aden volunteered. "Oh, you mean the schedule? Something about a change in the legislature and the impact of-" He mimicked falling asleep mid-sentence. It earned him a chuckle.

As the room filled up, Robert got his laptop out. He might joke around, but this was still a work gig. His boss expected a report at the end of the day.

"You know what I could really use right now?" Bob asked his friend.

"What?"

Robert gave a sardonic grin. "Midlife crisis. High time for one."

"For you and me both," Aden agreed.

More banter was cut short as the lights dimmed and a woman walked onto the stage. She looked young and smartly dressed. Certainly a change to the usual portly man who opened up the convention.

"Welcome everyone," she spoke into the mic at the podium. "My name is Rose Parker and I fear I have bad news. The usual speaker had a little accident. I am here to fill in. Now, today's first - and only - topic will be the financial impact of Fashion Witch generated merchandise."

Something about that struck Robert as wrong. He got up. "I'll go ask someone what is going on," he assured his friend. Then shimmied out of his row. Hurrying to the end of the room. However, as he tried to open the double doors, they remained firmly shut. That was not normal. And against code. There always had to remain a way open in case of emergencies.

Panic shouting made Robert turn around. He saw men stand up in a hurry. Only for their suits to explode off them and their human bodies replaced by tall white pillows. Immediately, Robert jumped behind the chairs of the last row. This was bad. This Rose Parker must be a Fashion Witch. One of the modern boogie men. He always had known it was possible he could run into one. But statistics said it was less likely than being killed in a car crash.

From behind his cover, Robert witnessed the mayhem. The wave of explosion continued. More pillows remained. A few tried to attack the witch, but the security guards stepped in. It was hopeless. For a brief moment, he saw Aden in his pastel pink suit. Then it exploded and only a pillow remained of his friend.

A sudden silence settled over the room as all the attendees had been transformed. All but Robert, who cowered behind the last row of seats. Making himself as small as possible. Still, he had to look. Had to witness the fate of his friend.

The security guards went to work. Some went into the rows. Plucking up the pillows and bringing them to the stage. Throwing them on a pile. Others brought in cardboard boxes and a strange machine. Clueing Robert in that this was planned from the start.

One by one, the pillows were brought before Rose. Now, Robert got a better guess on their size. These pillows were nearly as tall and wide as the Fashion Witch. Once presented, Rose looked at a sheet of paper. Then the pillow changed. Robert wasn't sure, but he could swear the pillow had now a full-sized picture of a woman on them. The pillow was rolled up and placed inside the strange machine. It came out the other end vacuum sealed and ready to be shipped. Placed in a box, the sheet of paper was put inside, and then taped shut.

Again and again, Robert witnessed this process repeated. Until one box remained and no pillow. "One is missing!" Rose shouted. "Find him or one of you takes his place."

Robert cursed under his breath. They had the attendance sheet. This was even more organized than he had feared. The security guards spread out. Checking rows one by one. It was only a matter of time before they found him. His fate was sealed. It was just a matter of time.

A sudden calm settled over him. Robert stood up. Losing his tie, he walked over to the closest security guy. Probably not even real security. Raising his fist, they both knew what would happen. The smirk on his opponent said all. Marking Robert as an easy target. The smirk vanished as Robert advanced quickly and broke the guy's nose with a quick vicious jab.

Of course, it was futile. The other guards closed in on him. Robert got a few more jabs in, but then they had him pinned. One heavy punch to the stomach and it was over. Dragging a wheezing Robert to the stage.

"Not bad, oldtimer," Rose remarked, but then gave an overdone pout. "But did you have to waste my time? Seriously?"

Options flashed through Robert's mind. Curse her out? One last witty remark? Maybe he should try spitting in her face. Like they did in movies. But it was too late. His clothes exploded off him and he was not human anymore. Just something soft and squishy. Rose looked once at a sheet of paper and then made a gesture at Robert. A short tingling sensation swept through his new fluffy body. Then, he was roughly rolled up and placed inside the machine. It compressed him further and trapped him in plastic. Not that he could have moved without it.

Placed in a box, a sheet of paper landed on him. Then the box closed up. Plunging Bob into darkness. This was it. Game over. He had lost. Doomed to an existence as a sentient pillow. Yes, he wanted a change in his life, but this was not the midlife crisis he had envisioned.

---

Endless darkness was punctured by some rattling of his box or muted talking now and then. Then, finally, a slit of light appeared. His box was opened up. After how long, Bob couldn't tell. Most of the time he had zoned out. Which was better than the alternative. To lose his mind.

The top of the box was folded up and the sheet of paper was removed. A guy looked down at Robert and the paper. He looked young. In the twenties, Bob guessed.

"Let's get you out of there."

Finally, Robert was freed from the box and endless darkness. The young man clawed at Bob's plastic wrapping until it gave away. A tear appeared and was used to free Bob completely. Without the shrink wrap, Bob unfolded. Not that it helped him much. He couldn't move or talk. Just lean against the furniture he had fallen against.

"Okay. Hi. I am Roman. Roman Haney," Bob's new owner introduced himself. "You must be confused. I am not sure you even know what happened to you. I am afraid you have become the victim of a Fashion Witch."

That much was obvious, but Bob couldn't voice out the sentiment.

"Let's see." Roman looked down at the paper that had accompanied Bob. "Jennifer Tillerman. Age eighteen. Senior and cheerleader. Hi, Jennifer. Wish we had met under better circumstances."

Jennifer? Robert was furious. Not just had that witch robbed him of his body. She had taken his identity too. How evil does one have to be to walk the path of a Fashion Witch?

"Look, I am not here to abuse you," Roman continued. "I saw your auction and had to prevent you from falling into the hands of some creep."

"Like yourself?" Bob wanted to shout, but his mental anguish remained unvoiced.

"They turned you into a Dakimakura," Roman continued his monologue. "It's a Japanese term. You could translate it into body pillows or even Waifu pillows. Do you know what a Waifu is?"

Great. Now this Roman was talking gibberish. Bob would have excused himself in any other situation, but that wasn't an option right now. He had to endure.

"Perhaps, it is best to show you."

Roman picked up Bob with ease. His new pillowy body appeared to be very light. He was then dragged in front of a mirror. The sight made Bob want to curse. The reflection showed Roman holding up the tall pillow that Bob had become. Drawn on in a cartoonish style was a girl. Raven hair and blue eyes. She wore a cheerleading uniform that was on the skimpy side. Probably for summer months or warmer climates. A short skirt and pompoms rounded off the uniform. Seeing himself reduced to this, Bob felt ashamed. And there was nothing he could do about it.

"I am afraid, it gets worse."

Roman turned Bob around. Confused by what the point of turning him away from the mirror was. But with a little concentration, he could shift his view to the backside of his pillow body. Bob immediately wished he hadn't. His backside portrayed the same cheerleader. This time in a more lewd pose. The top had been lifted over her breasts and revealed them in their naked glory. They appeared too large for a small frame like hers. At least in Bob's opinion. The pompoms were missing. Instead, one hand of the girl pushed down the hem of her skirt and the other pulled aside her panties.

Bob hadn't just been reduced to an object. He had heard of what Fashion Witches did. Transforming people into clothing for them to wear. But this was worse, he decided. Yes, he wasn't something to be worn. Instead of just stripping his identity as all the other objects, he had been given a new one. It was a twisted and vile one. Worse, this fool named Roman thought it was real. That he held a transformed cheerleader in his arms. And Bob could do nothing to correct him.

Roman walked back to his living room. Placing Bob on the couch and taking a seat on a nearby chair. "Now, not all hope is lost, Jennifer. I am a part of a group that rescues people like you. In fact, you aren't the only one we brought. We try to keep you out of the hands of perverts."

"Like yourself?" Bob wanted to ask again, but couldn't. He wasn't buying what Roman was putting on the table. Rescued? It was probably a story Roman told himself to feel better. Or maybe some twisted game he was about to play with Bob. What stood really on that printout? Was it the fictive Jennifer? An innocent girl transformed to be sold to perverts. Or was Bob's name on there and Roman just pretended it was different?

"But there is more," Roman continued. "We are working to find a witch that can turn you and other victims back to humans. Maybe with enough financial incentive, one might go for it. So, Jennifer, not all hope is lost."

That sealed it, for Robert. All hope was lost. Either Roman was a twisted pervert who told tall tales for sadistic reasons, or he was a naive boy who believed in fairytales. As if there were fashion witches who weren't black to the core of their hearts. If they still had hearts. Yes, he had heard of rumors of people being turned back to humans. But he had never seen the evidence. Not a single TV interview or picture in the newspaper. All hearsay. Buying up transformed people might be good on paper too, but Bob knew better. One way or another, the fashion witch who had transformed him had gotten richer.

"Until then, Jennifer, I'll take care of you."

Bob wanted to roll his eyes. But as with everything else, it was denied to him.

---

"I am home!"

Bob didn't answer. Even if he could, he wouldn't. It was his third day that he stayed in Roman's apartment. To say it was boring, was an understatement. But Robert was used to boredom or even boring tasks. Maybe the two decades in his job helped him out. For some reason, he could space out and just let time flow by. Provided he wasn't distracted by anything. Like an overeager twenty-something with nothing better to do.

Bob didn't have to wait long until Roman joined him in the living room. As most of the time, Bob was propped up on the couch. Instead of going for the usual tasks, Roman came over. Holding a familiar sheet of paper in his hand.

"I am so sorry, Jennifer." Roman even looked sorry. Either he was a very good actor or the naivety spoke volumes. Robert still hadn't decided between the two. "So, I met with the rest of the group. Well, our local cell. And I did you wrong. For that, I truly apologize. The others educated me that it is very important to keep you mentally healthy. That means talking to you more. Maybe even do things that you like. Well, sort of for you."

Bob wanted to groan. If Roman could do one thing, then it was talking endlessly. So much for spacing out and skipping all of that. How could this get any worse?

"Let's see what your hobbies are." Again, that cursed sheet of paper twisted Bob's fate. "It says you are cheerful and emphatic. A good person. Glad to be on the same page. You like sewing and stitching in your free time. I am afraid I won't be very helpful with that. Hmm, you spent a lot of time volunteering in retirement homes ever since your grandma died. I am so sorry to hear that. Oh, I can help with this. You like Mexican Telenovelas? Not my cup of tea, but I am sure we can find you some."

Robert was sure of it. In his last life, he must have done something terrible. Tortured puppies or the like. Every time he thought it couldn't get worse, it did.

Roman sat down uncomfortably close to Bob. He reached for the remote but didn't switch the TV on yet. "Okay, the next thing is awkward. According to the studies we have found, it helps keeping you mentally healthy if you are used for your intended purpose. I will not do something lewd to you. I swear. Not gonna sleep with you either. That just seems wrong. Well, some use body pillows for comfort. You know. As something to relieve their loneliness. Talking to them. Hugging them. I think that's okay, right?"

Robert braced himself for the inevitable. Now, Roman would show his true colors. Hugging and squeezing him all in the name of comforting Jennifer.

Roman scooted closer. Then tenderly laid an arm around Bob. Giving only a slight squeeze of a hug. "How's that, Jennifer? Okay? I hope so. Now, let's find you a Telenovela to watch."

As Roman flipped through channels, Robert had to admit it wasn't as bad as he had feared. It even gave him a small measure of comfort. A fact that surprised him to no end.

"Look, Jennifer, it's Desierto-Rosas De La Pasión. Your favorite Telenovela. I hoped you didn't miss too many episodes."

Right. Just when Robert let his guard down a little, life found a way to push again. But there was still a silver lining. Maybe Roman would shut up for a while.

---

"I'm home!"

The shout from the hallway tore Robert out of his stupor. Once again, he had been lost. Not even in thoughts. Just spaced out. It happened most of the time when there was nothing to do. The first week flew by as Robert didn't even register most of it. Then, Roman figured out how to program the TV to automatically turn on and off again. Now, Robert got to witness Jennifer's favorite Telenovela and a few others.

Honestly, it wasn't that bad. Yes, the Telenovelas were kinda trashy. So we're B-movies. If one took them in the same spirit, they weren't that bad. Even kind of funny at times.

"Welcome home," Robert replied in his best Jennifer impression. Not that Roman could hear him. But one thing Roman had said was true. Robert craved interaction. Even if it was pretending on his part. It wasn't that hard to make Roman's monologue into a pretend dialog. The young man talked a lot, but left plenty of breaks in between.

"You'll never guess what happened at work today."

Robert did his best to slip further into the mindset of Jennifer. "Oh? Tell me." Of course, it was logical for Robert to pretend he was Jennifer. Even if it was only in his mind. Roman talked to Jennifer and if Robert wanted to be part of it, he had to become her. Either it was perfectly reasonable or the Telenovelas turned his head into mush. Well, his was already kind of fluff. So, not too far off.

"So, this customer came in-"

In the beginning, Robert hated the chattiness of Roman. Now, he hadn't just gotten used to it. He depended on it to stay sane. At least, a form of sanity. Now, when Roman retold yet another mundane story, Robert listened and made commentary. In the way, he thought an attentive girlfriend might do.

Soon, Roman carried Bob into the kitchen. It nearly always was torture for Bob to witness what followed.

"No, the potatoes aren't done yet." Or. "The pasta is more than al dente by now." Of course, none of Bob's remarks made it into Roman's ears. Robert couldn't claim he was a great cook, but living nearly three decades on his own taught him a few things. Was he ever as hapless as Roman? Probably, but it was too long ago to remain a vivid reminder.

If only Jennifer could show Roman a few tricks around the kitchen. She would happily do so if it meant she'd return to human form.

Robert mentally shook himself. If he could return to being human then of course as his male self. Not as Jennifer. Where had that come from? Those Telenovelas did a number on his head. Or his little mental role-playing was to blame.

After dinner, Roman had another surprise in store. "I think you need another wash, Jennifer."

"You don't like Eau De fried bell pepper?" Robert joked in his best Jennifer impression. As always, his jokes fell flat. No one was listening and that made for a poor audience.

"After your favorite Telenovela, of course," Roman promised. "Wouldn't want you to miss it."

To Robert, it made no difference. Being washed always left him kind of loopy. His mind and memories jumbled. It took a few hours for them to return to normal and Bob never felt quite the same as before. Yet, there was nothing to do but accept his fate. Who knew that it was possible to get stoned on detergent? Bob could have done without that knowledge.

Being plucked up and placed on the couch, Bob was ready for what was to come. As always, Roman laid an arm around Bob. By now, it felt comforting. Like a light squeeze or hug. Bob could even feel a little of Roman's body heat radiate into him. That felt nice too. And so, Bob settled down. For yet another evening spent before the TV and in the arms of Roman.

---

"Morning Jennifer."

Jennifer snapped awake. No, that was quite right. She didn't sleep. Most of the time she just spaced out. Sometimes, she had daydreams. Those were usually very vivid. She imagined how it would have been growing up as Jennifer. To be a little girl. Then a teenager. To hang out with friends at a mall. Having fun with a BFF. Everything she never had.

Because she was also Robert. It was the core of her. He had childhood memories and so much more. Jennifer knew she was like a sock puppet. She might portray herself as a young woman, but it was Robert's hand that animated her. Except, nothing about her was animated and most often she forgot that there was someone else inside of her.

After four months of being spoken to as Jennifer and playing the part in her mind, it had become easier to slip into the mindset. To become Jennifer. Sometimes, she forgot that she was supposed to be Robert. To stop pretending she was real. Jennifer wondered if one day she would forget about ever being Robert.

"Morning Roman," she greeted back as Roman came to her assistance. It was silly. Jennifer slept on the couch. At least, Roman made it up to be like that. Every evening he would make up the couch and tuck her in. Blanket and pillow included. And despite the silliness, she loved this little gesture. An acknowledgment that despite being a body pillow, she was still a human inside.

It had taken her a while to admit it, but there was only one way she liked to spend her night more. Now and then, on a late-night movie marathon, Roman would fall asleep against her. Hugging her close and share more of his body heat with her. It felt intimate, but even more so, it felt right. As if her reason for being alive was fulfilled at that moment.

"I am sorry, Jennifer, but I can't spend a lot of time with you today." Roman looked worried and it worried Jennifer in turn. He rested a hand on her pillowy body. "I know I promised to spend the weekend with you, but something has come up. One from our group has found a lead. A fashion witch that might not be completely evil. We'll drive out to find her. I am not trying to get your hopes up for nothing, but this might be it, Jennifer. A way back into human form."

"You idiot!" she wanted to shout. Reason with a fashion witch? That was madness. It was an unnecessary risk and he could end up like her. Just an object to the world. Who would take care of him? And without Roman, who did she have? Would she space out forever? Sold in an apartment liquidation to someone who had no clue who she really was?

"Don't go," she pleaded. "I rather stay like this than risk you."

"I'll be back by evening," Roman promised. Unaware of Jennifer's inner turmoil. "All your Telenovelas are programmed in. So, hopefully, you don't grow too bored without me."

"Come back," she pleaded once more as Roman let go. Then again, as he left the apartment. Again and again. Like a prayer. Even when her Telenovelas started to run, her mind was with Roman.

---

"Still, nothing new," Roman said as he turned away from the PC. Three times now, he had chased that illusive fashion witch that might or might not exist. Who could be good or just evil in disguise.

Roman sat down next to her. "I asked around on all the websites that try to reconnect transformed people with their loved ones. None have heard of a Jennifer Tillerman or reported you missing." Roman pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed his eyes. "To be honest, I sometimes wonder if that fashion witch lied. Maybe she changed your name for some reason and I've addressed you for months by the wrong name."

"Yes!" Jennifer was excited. Finally. Then, for a brief moment, she was confused. Why was she excited? Right. She wasn't Jennifer. Well, she was most of the time. But she had been someone else. Robert. What had been her last name? Andrews. That's right, she had been Robert Andrews. But for a long time, she hadn't felt like him anymore. She had all his memories, but they were vague. Just as the fake ones she dreamed up about herself. She knew those were the real ones, but it didn't matter to her anymore as much as it used to.

"If so, I am sorry," Roman continued. "For now, I guess, I have to continue calling you Jennifer."

Jennifer was glad. For a moment, she feared Roman might come up with a third name. Her transition from Robert to Jennifer had been hard enough. She didn't want to make another.

"I tried looking again into the company the fashion witch used at a front for selling you." Roman leaned over to hug Jennifer. It felt as if he needed it more than she did. Not that she minded. For quite a while now, she savored their hugs. "No new information. The police have locked down the building the witch used, but too late to catch her. And all files are seized. If there are any. They aren't forthcoming to my requests."

That was typical. Jennifer never had much faith in the police. One never heard that the police tried to engage a fashion witch. News always reported that the police arrived late. Even on confirmed sightings of fashion witches. In Jennifer's book, the police were useless. At least, when it came to fashion witches.

"I know she moved a lot of you," Roman mused aloud. "My group liberated sixteen sentient body pillows. And that was a fraction of the overall supply. I just wonder where she got you. I couldn't find any news of large disappearances in high schools. I mean, there are sadly always scattered disappearances of students. The prime hunting ground of young fashion witches. But over a hundred students missing must have caused waves. If only you could talk. I am hitting brick walls here."

If only she could. There were so many things on Jennifer's mind she wanted to say. Not just about where she came from. What she used to be. But that was wishful thinking. It was hard, but she was making her peace with the fact, that she would never talk again.

"Sorry to be such a downer." Roman looked at the clock and appeared shocked. "Look at the time. Desierto-Rosas De La Pasión is about to start."

If only Jennifer could talk. She would give Roman an earful. Today's episode was Paquitaxs wedding to Juan. She couldn't miss that. Jennifer was sure the plot would derail things. Cause drama. But would it be before or after the ceremony? She couldn't wait to find out.

Finally, Roman sat down, grabbed the remote, and leaned Jennifer against him in his usual half hug. Now she could relax. Let the real world pass by and escape into a world full of intrigue, drama, and revelations.

---

Jennifer came to herself at rather an odd time. From the sun and shadows, she could guess that it was about noon. A time she usually skipped by spacing out completely. It was after her morning Telenovelas reruns, but before the afternoon episodes aired. Roman was at work, so what pulled her back to the present?

The slamming of the front door alerted her that she wasn't alone anymore. Jennifer didn't have to wait long until a figure walked into the living room. But the way she did it was strange. The young woman walked backward. Her whole face was a mask of terror as she stared towards the front door.

Then the woman noticed Jennifer in the worst way. Just a glance and an immediate jump backward. Right against the wall. Collapsing against it, she rubbed the back of her head as she cursed under her breath. Then suddenly placed both hands over her mouth and listened. Wide-eyed again looked to the front door.

It took minutes for the young woman to calm down, but then she relaxed slightly. Leaning against the wall and taking a few breaths. Then, the woman's eyes fell on Jennifer again. A nervous laugh escaped her. "What the fuck are you? Scared the living daylight out of me. For a moment, I thought you were a person. Great. Now I am talking to an object too. Ain't like you are-"

The woman stopped. Her eyes narrowed. Studying Jennifer from afar. "Holy shit, you are sentient." A new wave of nervousness hit the woman and she looked around frantically. To Jennifer, it looked like she had one panic attack already behind her and was on the edge of another one.

"Not a home of a fashion witch," the woman concluded. "I hope." She looked at Jennifer again. "A cheerleader, huh? I really could use some fucking cheering right now."

The woman nervously combed her hair before cursing again. "Ah, fuck it. I am doomed anyway, right?" She pointed right at Jennifer who suddenly felt strange.

A twisting and turning feeling overcame her. As if the fluff in her inside was scrambled. Her fabric was pushed and pulled. And then, there was a sudden flash and Jennifer took an involuntary gasp of air. Something she hadn't done in months. Then it dawned on Jennifer. She was human again. At once, she tried to look at herself but found she had trouble moving right. How does one operate a human body again? Which limb did what? A half year and it all felt strange to her.

"Tada!" The woman proclaimed. Drawing attention from Jennifer. "So, how about, as a fucking thank you, a little cheer routine for me?"

Now it was Jennifer's turn to panic. Her limbs didn't obey her very well. Her mouth was a little better. "I would, but I can't move my-"

"Of course, you fuckin' can't," the woman groaned. Letting her head rest against the wall. "How long?" she asked without looking at Jennifer.

Not immediately punished, Jennifer took a second to calm down and think it through. "Half a year at least. Seven or eight months, maybe."

"Great. Just great. Can't even get-" She started to cry. Big tears rolled down her face and there was no stopping it.

Jennifer felt bad. Her mind said that this woman was a magic user. Probably even a fashion witch. She should hate her. But her heart saw only a scared woman. Maybe half her age. Early twenties at best. Scared, desperate, and utterly broken.

Jennifer got up from the couch. No, standing and walking was a no-go. Her control of her limbs improved, but it was minuscule at best. Crawling. That, she could do. It was slow, but she got closer. Halfway to her target, the woman noticed. Half-hearted she tried to move away, but she was backed against the wall.

"You hate me, right? What I am." The sobbing woman gave Jennifer a weak challenging stare. "Alright. Give it your best shot. Come on. Hit me. I deserve it."

Jennifer sat up beside the woman. Slightly swaying as she tried to keep her balance. She raised both arms. Then hugged the woman. Drawing her in and spending comfort. The woman melted in her arms as the sobbing returned. Jennifer took it all as she softly rubbed the woman's back.

"I can't cheer very well, but I can hug," Jennifer whispered. "What's your name?"

"They- They call me Kahina. Called. They are all gone now. It used to be- Doesn't matter anymore." Kahina squeezed back more tightly. But more than tears, words now quelled forth. "It was all Pedro's idea. So stupid. Let's learn magic, he said. No other gang will mess with us. Yeah. That worked out fine. Just a little snag. We awoke to magic smack middle in the territory of a fashion witch. A powerful one."

Kahina must be part of a gang, Jennifer deduced. It explained her strange outfit. Leather vest with studs. Bandanas tied towards it in strange places. Pants that screamed punk with all the added patches and buttons.

"You couldn't leave?" Jennifer asked as Kahina had another bout of big sobs.

"Pedro. He said- We could take her. That we are nine and she was alone." A short hysteric laugh escaped Kahina. "We weren't even close to a match. She picked us off as if she was swatting flies. We never had a chance in the first place."

Jennifer hadn't thought it would be possible, but she felt pity for a fashion witch. Previously she had thought all fashion witches were evil. Plain and simple. But Kahina was different. Just a young woman who didn't know better and got roped into stuff that went over her head.

Maybe, Kahina could be redeemed. If Jennifer could get her to safety, Kahina could learn from her experience. Maybe she would be willing to turn others back. Just like she had helped Jennifer. According to Roman, his group had plenty of sentient objects waiting to become human again.

The sound of splintering wood shocked both, Kahina and Jennifer. The front door was half ajar and slowly swung further open. Revealing a woman clad in all black. She looked like a domina to Jennifer. Her body was snug in some rubber garment that gleamed under the light. Her boots had high platforms and even higher heels. Strapped to her side was a viscous-looking whip and between her leather-gloved hands, she held a riding crop.

As the domina stepped in, Kahina tried to crawl further back. Yet there was no way out. She was trapped. Just like Jennifer, who now cursed herself. She should have gotten out while she had the chance.

"Oh, Kahina. My sweet Kahina," the woman in black purred. "Why did you run? Do you think I'd let you go? Of all your pathetic friends, you showed the most promise. Yet you tucked tail and ran." She stopped before Kahina and used her riding crop to lift the sobbing woman's shin. "And now look at you. Pitiful. Don't worry. I still have a place for you."

The woman Jennifer was hugging suddenly slackened and when she looked, there was no trace of Kahina left. Just her clothes and something red poked out where Kahina's head had been. The new fashion witch crouched down and pulled out the transformed Kahina. Standing back up, she lifted her conquest. Giving Jennifer a good look at what Kahina had become. She had become a shiny red catsuit with lots of paneling that gave the new sentient garment a sleek look.

"Much better. Don't worry, I'll wear you plenty. You will grow to love it." The fashion witch crouched down again. Completely ignoring Jennifer as she dug through the pile of Kahina's clothing. "Not bad." Kahina's jacket was transformed into a ring that the witch donned. The same fate befell the five bandanas Kahina had tied to her jacket. "Mundane." She tossed away Kahina's pants and shoes. Frowning, she picked up Kahina's panties. "Not even sentient underwear. Oh, Kahina. What a disappointment. You don't know what you've missed. Not that it matters anymore."

The last few items were tossed to the side. Now, nothing was between Jennifer and the witch. Only now, the fashion witch acknowledged her. "And who are you?"

Should she beg? No. This was exactly how Jennifer had always thought all fashion witches are. Cruel and evil. Begging wouldn't help. It was inevitable. Just as she had regained her humanity, it was about to be lost again. At least, she could state her name so the witch might use it.

"I am-"

"You know what? I don't care." The fashion witch stood up. Towering over Jennifer in her high-heeled boots. "Why do I even bother with small fry like you?"

Jennifer braced herself, but the change never came. Instead of transforming her, the fashion witch stood up and turned around. Walking out without sparing Jennifer a second more of notice.

Just like that, Jennifer found herself alone. Back as being human and utterly naked. Her hammering heart slowly calmed down. It was a strange feeling now to Jennifer. To have a beating heart and to draw gasps of air into her lungs. Thankfully, both processes were automatic. If she had unlearned it like using her limbs, her newfound humanity wouldn't have lasted long either.

What now? Jennifer took stock of her surroundings. Not much hinted at what had transpired just now. A few discarded garments from Kahina. Jennifer doubted any of them were sentient. She discarded the notion of wearing them anyway. It still would be creepy. And there was the door to Roman's apartment. Wide open and everyone passing by might see inside. Jennifer decided to do something about that. She might not be able to close the door. The door frame was busted after all. But she could at least create the illusion of privacy.

Getting to the door was awkward. She still didn't trust her legs to stand up or even walk. It resulted in more crawling. This time awkwardly towards the door. Nearly there, something caught her attention in the small hallway that connected the living room and front door. Roman had hung a full-sized mirror here and Jennifer now couldn't help but stare at it.

It was her. How she always had imagined herself as flesh and blood. A young athletic body. Cute nose, blue eyes, and raven black hair. It was all there. For the first time, she saw herself. With it came the realization that Kahina hadn't turned her back into Robert. Because, why should she? Kahina had never known Robert or how he looked. She had only seen the cartoonish depiction of Jennifer on her pillowy body. Now, she was human again but stuck as Jennifer once more. And for the life of her, Jennifer couldn't feel bad about it.

Looking back, she saw Robert in a new light. Pushing fifty, one could say he had been past his prime. His job was a dead end and boring anyway. No one significant had been in his life and he barely had any friends either. Jennifer hadn't noticed back then. When she still had been Robert. There hadn't been much going for him. Now, she was Jennifer. Young again and with a new outlook on life. She could start over. Do things better. Maybe this time find someone to share her life with.

She needed to contact Roman. Pushing the front door closed as best as she could, Jennifer contemplated how to do that. There hadn't been a moment when Roman told her his number. Just in case a one-in-a-million chance left her human again. Maybe there was something on his computer she could use.

Trying to get up again, she did better. As long as Jennifer hugged the wall, she slowly managed small little steps that brought her forward. It was a small odyssey. Despite that the computer nook was only a few meters away. Sitting down on the chair, she nearly keeled over. There was something called body tension she had all forgotten about when she had been a pillow.

Roman's PC booted up just fine and left her on the main screen. There wasn't even a password required. She would have to talk about it to him. Safety was important. Even if the lack of it currently helped her out.

Opening up the browser, Jennifer's mission to find a way to contact him derailed. Two tabs automatically opened up and Jennifer saw they both belonged to the same site. A forum for reconnecting sentient objects with their loved ones. For quite a while now she had suspected Roman had been honest with her. That he tried to get her back to being human for real or, at least, try to get her back to her loved ones.

Now, she had the opportunity to see if she had been right. The original post showed - Jennifer - in her pillow form. A picture of the sheet of paper with her details was also uploaded. In the text post, Roman detailed everything he knew about Jennifer. All lies, but he hadn't known that. The threat was long. Roman and others had speculated where Jennifer might be from. Analyzed the cheerleading uniform in detail in hopes of clues about where she might have gone to school.

Jennifer leaned back. Roman had been honest with her. It filled her heart with warmth. She had guessed before, but now, she knew for sure. That last little bit of cynic denial that was left by Robert was washed away.

Given the opportunity, Jennifer couldn't help but snoop. She opened up the other tab. It showed another thread in the forum started by Roman. This time, he was looking for someone. A Sarah Haney. That last name sounded familiar. Wasn't that Roman's family name? Reading further, Jennifer's guess proved right. Roman had lost his little sister to a fashion witch. She and nearly all of her friends in the drama department of her school had been taken. The long thread detailed Roman's search for his sister. Never giving up.

It explained so much. Roman had lost his sister. He couldn't help her, but he could help others like her.

"Police!" The loud shout nearly made Jennifer fall from the chair. "Come out with your hands held high."

Jennifer glanced at the PC's clock. Nearly twenty minutes had passed since the fashion witch had left with Kahina in her grasp. Of course, the police were way too late. By now, the witch might be blocks away or further.

"I am coming!" Jennifer shouted. She was still naked, but that wasn't something she could change right now. "Just, hang on." Again, she hugged the wall to get back to the front door. In her hurry, she slipped and fell halfway toward the door.

"What happened?" the police officer shouted. "Do you have trouble walking?"

How did he know that she had stumbled and fallen? He couldn't see her, right? And why didn't he enter? "Yes!" Honesty was probably best in this situation. "I haven't used my legs in a while."

"I am coming in." The officer sounded not thrilled about the prospect. "By law, I have to state the following. Do not move. Should you be a fashion witch be aware that if anything happens to me, you are toast. Two of my teammates have you in their crosshairs and loaded shots that shred through walls like paper. Understood?"

Jennifer was sure, but she thought the man was scared. Now that she thought about it, confronting fashion witches can't be a good thing for one's own health. The poor lad had probably drawn the short straw if he had to make contact. Maybe Jennifer had misjudged the police. These men and women might be just as scared of fashion witches as the rest of them. After all, what good is a kevlar vest against magic?

"I am not a fashion witch," Jennifer stated just to be sure. "I will comply."

Roman's front door was kicked open. It had been broken beyond repair before, but no door deserved such abuse. Sentient or not. The officer pushed in. Clad from head to toe in heavy gear. She didn't see much uncovered beside his eyes. But she could make out a nameplate - A. Ramirez - and the writing that made him part of a SWAT team.

Ramirez only hesitated a split second before leveling his rifle on Jennifer. "Why are you naked?"

Jennifer mentally cursed. She had noticed Ramirez wore fingerless gloves. The same fingers squeezed his weapons so much, they turned white. She was one twitchy finger away from splattered against the wall.

"I was an object," Jennifer hastened to say. "Not a half hour ago. I've been a victim of a fashion witch a couple of months ago. I was liberated and someone took care of me here."

The muzzle of Ramirez's gun never wavered. Seconds drew by as Ramirez made a decision. Then, he slightly lowered his rifle. "Explain. How did you turn back?"

"There were two witches. Not one." Jennifer thought that was the most important information. "One chased the other. Kahina - one of the witches - sought refuge here. She saw me and- I don't know if it was guilt or some other whimsy, but she turned me back. I didn't even get to thank her when the other witch arrived. She transformed Kahina and took a few of her garments. Then left."

"The second one just left you?"

Jennifer shrugged. "She said I was small fry. Not worth her time."

Ramirez looked at her hard for a few seconds, then lowered his rifle further. One hand reached up to the radio. "Clear."

He crouched down just as another person stepped into the doorframe. Just like Ramirez, the officer had lowered his gun, but Jennifer noticed that they still pointed in Jennifer's general direction.

"What's your name, Miss?"

"Jennifer."

"That is quite the story, Jennifer," Ramirez admitted. "I believe you, but until we can verify it, the protocol states that you remain a suspect. That means, no sudden movements on your part. We will take you to the police station where we need to get a full statement. Everything you think might help. Understood?"

"Yes." Jennifer wasn't too concerned about their thoroughness or worried as the guns were still in play. "Uhm, can you contact someone for me?"

Ramirez was hard to read, but his eyes didn't look scared anymore. However, they remained hard and on edge. "Who would that be?"

"Roman," Jennifer volunteered. "Last name Haney. It's his apartment. He was the one who took me in."

Another police officer arrived. This one without a drawn gun. Instead, he offered a blanket to her.

"You said he housed you as sentient objects," Ramirez pointed out just as Jennifer wrapped the blanket around her. "We have to get him anyway. Protocol states we have to interview him."

"I see." Jennifer pondered her current predicament. Yes, the police were still twitchy, but if she made it through, she was free again. And with a human body to boot. "Officer Ramirez is it? I may need a little help getting out of here. My walking skills are that of a toddler right now."

Ramirez gave a short chuckle. The first positive emotion she witnessed. "A stretcher is on its way. Just hang tight."

Jennifer nodded. Human again and still, she needed help. Hopefully, not for too long.

---

To say Jennifer paced the interrogation room was an overstatement. She slowly went step by step. Generously using the wall as a means to steady herself. How to walk came back to her. Now and then, she managed three steps at a time without help. Not just walking itself felt strange. The police had provided her with some clothes and it felt strange to be dressed again.

She nearly fell as O'Hara entered the room. For the last few hours, the detective had interviewed her on every detail she could think of. Not just about the incident at Roman's apartment. Every small fact that he could recall of the Rose Parker entrapment was worth gold. With careful prodding, O'Hara managed to squeeze out details Jennifer hadn't even noticed she possessed. But most of her time was spent on Robert Andrews. Her past self. To the police, it was vital that she was who she said she was. And not, for example, a fashion witch trying to hide by pretending to be Robert.

"Miss Andrews." O'Hara pointed at the chair Jennifer had sat in for hours.

A little weary, Jennifer made her way to the chair. By now, she had told every detail three or four times. Jennifer wondered if the detective suffered from short-term amnesia. Even with writing everything down, he had her repeat things over and over again.

"Good news," O'Hara said as he took a seat himself. "I conferred with the higher-ups and we are reasonably sure you are indeed Robert Andrews."

"Was Robert Andrews," Jennifer corrected. "I haven't felt like Robert for a long time now. And let's be honest, with my new body, I can't just go back to being him. What are the chances that I run into a beneficial witch twice?"

"Rather slim, I agree." O'Hara pulled out a slim folder and pushed it over to Jennifer. "In fact, we kind of speculated on that part."

Curious, Jennifer opened the folder and found a single page within. It looked official. Had a few stamps on it too. She found her details on it. As Robert and as Jennifer.

"What is that?"

"While rare, you aren't the first to be in this situation," O'Hara admitted. "By now, we are prepared for it. The protocol states you get a temporary ID. That's this document. You are required to apply for an official ID within two months. You can choose any combination of Robert Andrews and Jennifer Tillerman as your new official name. Though Jennifer Andrews appears to be the obvious choice, it is up to you."

Jennifer Andrews. She liked it. It combined her new identity with a nod to her old. "Sounds good. What happens now?"

"If you would look beneath the ID." Jennifer did and found a debit card. "On it are five thousand dollars. To help you tide over for a month or two. It is standard practice to freeze the accounts of suspected fashion witch victims for two years. In other words, your savings as Robert Andrews are safe, but inaccessible at the moment. I recommend contacting your bank as soon as possible and unfreezing it. In the meantime, the city will provide a hotel room or apartment."

"What if I want to stay somewhere else?"

"Mister Haney?" O'Hara guessed. As a response, he got a blush from Jennifer. "You are free to make your own arrangements. Please note, the city won't provide monetary compensation for whoever shelters you."

"I see." Was she that transparent? Yes, her first impulse had been to go back to Roman. But was that the right thing to do? He had taken her in because she had been helpless. In a way, she thought it made him feel better for losing his sister to a fashion witch. Now, Jennifer didn't need him anymore. At least, in the technical sense. "Is he here? Roman, I mean. I guess I should talk to him before making any decision."

"His interview concluded an hour ago," O'Hara said but was quick to add to it. "He's been waiting in the lobby."

The simple fact that Roman waited for her made Jennifer's heart beat faster. "Can I go to him?"

"Yes. You are officially dismissed." O'Hara tapped on the thick folder left before him. "We may contact you again if something new comes up or we have further questions. If you stay with Mister Haney, please inform the receptionist. If you choose to take the city's offer for accommodation, the receptionist can also help you."

"Thank you, Mister O'Hara." Taking her temporary ID and preloaded debit card, Jennifer stood up. She still swayed a little but declined assistance from the detective. Jennifer had too long depended on the help of others. Now, she wanted to walk on her own again.

She found Roman sitting in the lobby. Worried. Restless. But as Jennifer walked closer, Roman recognized her. Standing half up, he asked: "Jennifer?"

"Yes. Sort of." She gave him a lop-sided grin. "Thanks for waiting. I hoped we could talk."

Roman got up to help her the last few meters to one of the couches in the lobby. This time, Jennifer accepted the help. Sitting down together, Jennifer reached for his hands.

"First, let me thank you." She gave a weak smile. Trying to overplay her nervousness. "Taking me in was very generous of you. Especially as you didn't know who I am."

Jennifer held up her hand as Roman was about to speak up. "Please. I have to explain. In the last few days, you had speculated that Jennifer might not be my real name. I am afraid that is true. You see, I used to be double your age. Technically, still am. Jennifer was just a figment of fiction the fashion witch spun to make better sales." Jennifer wet her lips to steal a moment to calm down. The next part would be the hardest. "You see, I am not a cheerleader. Never was. And I was known by the name of Robert."

"You-" Roman stopped himself. Taking a moment to process. His inner turmoil was plain to see for Jennifer. First, the realization set in. Then, the shame. "I am so sorry. I hadn't-"

"Known," Jennifer finished for him. "I know that and I don't blame you in any way. Roman, before coming to you Jennifer had been fiction. But you made her real for me. I needed something to cling to and you taking me seriously has helped. Going in I had not been Jennifer, but now, there is nothing I'd rather be. Even if someone offered a way to go back."

She saw hope blossom in Roman's eyes. "You aren't mad?"

Jennifer wanted to hug him. The impulse was there. But now, she wasn't immobile anymore. Nothing was stopping her. To his surprise, she pulled him into a hug. "Mad? I am grateful. For everything you have done. You helped me through a very hard time and asked nothing in return. How can I be mad about it?"

For a moment, they savored their shared embrace. Then, slowly, they parted. "What now?" Roman asked. "Can you go back to your old life? Changed as you are."

"Probably, but I don't want to," Jennifer admitted. Then took a deep breath. "I wondered if I could stay with you. Just a little while longer."

"Really? With me?" Roman looked thoughtful and then gave a short laugh. "Aren't you sick of me by now?"

"Of you, never." Jennifer's lips curled into a mischievous grin. "Your cooking? For sure."

"You never tasted my cooking," Roman protested.

"Thank God," Jennifer gasped. "I might have died of food poisoning. And that as a pillow. How embarrassing that would be. Look, you let me stay for a while and I'll teach you a thing or two in the kitchen."

"Fair enough." Roman offered his hand. "Deal?"

Instead of taking the offered hand, Jennifer drew him in for another hug. "Deal."

"Wanna go home?"

"Yes." It was a long day and Jennifer just wanted to get comfy. Maybe what a Telenovela. "Oh, no."

At once, Roman looked alarmed. "What is it?"

"Desierto-Rosas De La Pasión!" she exclaimed. "How late is it? Maybe we can go back just in time."

"You actually like them?" Roman asked as he helped her stand up. "I thought that was made up."

Jennifer leaned a little more on Roman as she might need to. "I mean, at first I didn't. My Spanish was kinda rusty too. But when you get into it, it is exciting. Last episode, Paquita was bitten by a venomous snake. It couldn't have come at a worse time as-"

After a short talk with the receptionist, Roman and Jennifer left arm in arm. A shared hug that wouldn't look wrong on a young couple in love.

The end.

---

bonus end scene 1 - Kahina's fate

---

A few hours earlier,

Mistress Carmen smiled brightly as she exited an apartment with the latest trophy in her arms. A bright red catsuit with stylish paneling that surely would enhance Carmen's look once worn.

Her boots echoed through the hallway as she walked with assured steps toward the exit. Then there was a twitch. A little change in the magic around her. Surprised, Mistress Carmen unrolled her latest acquisition.

"Oh, my. Kahina, what was that? Don't tell me you can still access your magic. How unusual. And fortunate that I noticed. A sneaky witch might be able to escape. Or worse, enchant me."

Her words had the intended response. Not only could Kahina use magic - in much-diminished strength - but the transformed witch managed to slightly move her latex body. A twitch here or there.

"But don't you worry," Mistress Carmen said as she rolled Kahina back up. "I know just what to do with you. A slight mental enchantment and a round trip to my servants with the postal service will do wonders. By the time you get out, you'll be begging to be worn by a woman like me."

Carmen placed the rolled-up Kahina under her arm and patted it with her hand. Then, with a big smile, she walked out of this dreadful building. Why would anyone hide in such a boring place? She had to educate Kahina once she came back. Not that it would make a shred of difference.

---

bonus end scene 2 - Sarah says Hi

---

Five weeks later,

Jennifer practically flew the last few meters to the apartment building. Not because one of her Telenovelas would soon start. Each tiny jump made her mini skirt move up and down. Just to tease Roman a little more.

It had been a nice day for a little walk. They had enjoyed the park, gotten ice cream, and enjoyed a kiss on one of the romantic little bridges. As Jennifer lost time opening the door, Roman caught up and drew her into another kiss.

They practically fell inside. "Behave," Jennifer warned. "Just a little longer."

"Anything for me?" Roman asked as Jennifer opened the mailbox labeled R. Haney and J. Andrews.

"Yes, actually there is a letter for you." Jennifer frowned as she flipped the letter a few times over. "But there is no return address. Not even a stamp."

"Strange." Roman tore the envelope open and pulled out a postcard. The sight made him stop and stare.

Worried, Jennifer looked over his shoulder. The postcard showed a flooded banquet hall and a mermaid floating right in the middle of it. But what amazed Jennifer was that the mermaid moved. Slightly bopping up and down. A small loop that animated her and the surrounding in the background.

Obviously, the postcard had to be magic. "Who would send something like this to you?" Jennifer asked.

Her question broke Roman's petrification. "You don't understand." He tilted the postcard so Jennifer could see it better. Then pointed to the mermaid. "That's my sister."

"Sarah?"

Roman nodded. Too stunned to act, Jennifer gently took the postcard from him. Flipping it over revealed a short message. She read aloud: "Hey, Brother. Heard you are looking for me. I am fine now. Can't spare any details yet. But we will talk to you soon. I promise. Love, Sarah."

"She's free?" Roman asked.

Jennifer wanted to say yes, but the fact that Sarah was a mermaid opened up many questions.

"Hopefully," Jennifer said as she drew Roman into a hug. "Let's ask her when we hear from her again."

---