Colton stopped his car at the farthest spot from the club. It was the middle of the day and the lot was nearly empty. Still, he needed some privacy and didn't dare to park closer. Picking up an old-school map, Colton O'Hara checked once more the many colored dots on it. All unexplained disappearances of persons. Presumed victims of a fashion witch. To his co-workers, the pattern was too random to draw conclusions. But Colton had a hunch.

Smack in the middle of the area sat one of the more popular strip clubs. The very same now before Colton. He was sure this was the common nominator of all the victims. The overwhelming maturity of the missing persons had been male. And in many apartments, he had found evidence they had been here. At this club. Bills, matchstick blocks, and fliers all pointed in this direction.

Colton was sure. This was the hiding spot of his quarry. It was time to get ready. First, he shrugged out of his jacket. It was necessary to equip a shoulder holster that would contain his service weapon. Colton doubted he would need it. Next was a back sling for the real star of his loadout. Colton picked up a handgun that put others to shame. It was a monster. Rated to take down armored vehicles or a charging elephant in one shot. A few shots might even take down a witch. It felt heavy on his back, but also good. Reassuring.

Slipping his jacket back on, Colton sent a quick text to police dispatch. If anything happened to him, they would at least know where he had found his demise. Then, he unclipped the police badge from his belt. The protocol was for him to leave it behind. If he failed and succumbed to a fashion witch, she would at least not go after his fellow officers. Plain clothed as he was, he might be one of the many bounty hunters that aimed to claim the head prize posted for a fashion witch. To that effect, he picked up a fake bounty hunter's license. As the last step, he placed a small temporary tattoo of a panda on his wrist.

Getting out of his car, Colton walked with a confident step towards the entrance. Two burly men played bouncers. They might be the first hurdle to overcome. But after a quick check of his ID, they waved him through. Just a cursory pat down would have revealed his weapons. Either they were incompetent or they wanted him to get in. Of course, there was a worse option. There might be other security in place. One of the magical varieties.

The inside was nothing special. Colton's work led him often enough into strip clubs. Not that he enjoyed them himself. Yet the muted atmosphere with trashy pop songs and neon lights spoke volumes to him. The club was large and it was midday. Hardly the busiest time of the day for such a club. Yet he found a girl on every stage. They went through the motion even when no one was looking. Giving a nod to the attractive brunette barkeeper, Colton made for one of the stages that had no patrons yet.

He put on one of his cockiest grins as he sat down. The girl on the stage immediately reacted. Giving him a great show. She might be disappointed if she found out just how little Colton cared for her performance. Still, he played his part. Pulling out two rolled-up bundles of ones and using them generously. His expense report would be a bitch, but Colton was used to that particular rodeo.

As he played the part of generous and enraptured patron, Colton stole glances around him. Most customers he could discount quickly. He knew the crowd that hung out midday in a strip club. It was unlikely any one of them would be a fashion witch.

Then, he spotted her. A mid-twenties blonde sat in a booth surrounded by three strippers. She clearly was having a good time and had the spending money to boot. Stacks of bills were on her table. Along with booze and some bags that might contain drugs. If that wasn't Colton's fashion witch then he still might do an arrest today anyway.

"What can I get you, honey?"

The sugary voice belonged to the bartender, who now leaned over Colton's shoulder. She clearly had the looks to rival those of the strippers but dressed slightly more modestly.

"Whiskey. Neat." Colton pulled out an extra twenty and pointed with it at his suspected witch. "What can you tell me about her?"

The bartender was quick to take the bill. "Regular. Big spender. She's here all the time. Knows how to have a good time. And-" The bartender gave a quick glance over. The woman they were talking about was distracted by the skillful display of a performer. "Not someone you want to tangle with. I'd recommend staying clear of her."

"Thanks for the advise," Colton replied and slipped her another twenty. "I guess I'll stick to my whiskey."

As soon as the bartender was away, Colton pulled out his phone. One more quick text and then he locked it. Throwing a few more bills to the stripper before him, Colton casually stood up. It was time to hunt. Roaming about, he pretended to look at a few more strippers. Slowly making his way closer to his prey.

The moment was perfect. The witch was distracted. No security was anywhere close. Not even other patrons. In a fluid motion, Colton knelt down, opened his back sling, and drew his witch killer. Countless practices had him draw and aim the hand cannon within seconds. With the witch's head in his aim, Colton braced for a hell of a kickback from the gun.

Darkness enveloped Colton in the next second. He couldn't move his body and it felt strange. As if he couldn't even discern where his limbs were.

Bright light tore through the darkness above him. A giant hand reached down and grabbed Colton. It belonged to an equally giant bartender.

"Look, Sidney." The bartender flung Colton's limp body around. "This one nearly blew your head out."

Sidney jumped up. Gone was her carefree nature. She looked scared. Not at the giant gun that Colton had dropped or even himself. Her doe eyes were riveted on the bartender. "Thank you, Abigail."

A deep pit opened within Colton. He had made a rookie mistake. Fallen for a decoy that had just been perfect. The real fashion witch was now holding him up. It had been the bartender all along.

Abigail held Colton close to her mouth as she whispered: "Told you not to tangle with her. You should have listened." She then addressed one of the strippers. "Jenna. Grab his stuff and follow me."

The reply was quick and meek. "Yes, Abigail."

Colton could do nothing as he was carried backstage. Up some stairs and into a large office. Two things he noticed immediately. There was a large pile of weapons in one corner. Jenna added his guns to the pile. His witch killer wasn't even the largest piece on it. And then there were the hooks. Hundreds of them drilled into the ceiling. More than a handful were occupied by brightly colored thongs dangling off them. Here, Colton found a new home as Abigail placed him on another hook. Making it clear what he had become. Just another thong. One more trophy of a fashion witch. His life as he knew it was over. All that he could hope for was that his texts would make other police officers wearier. And, maybe in time, that he was worn.

The next morning, Abigail plucked Colton from his hook. He wasn't the only one. Late in the evening, a lot more thongs had been placed on the ceiling. Now, Abigail picked thongs at random before heading downstairs.

The club was deserted. Not a single soul was here besides Abigail. It changed quickly. She threw one thong on the ground and a split second later, a naked man crouched there. Colton recognized him as one of the bouncers.

"Thank you, Abigail, for letting me serve you again."

One by one, the thongs were thrown and more of the club's staff appeared. Each thanked Abigail for the role they got to play. Be it a stripper or even a decoy. At last, it was only Colton who remained a thong. He was helpless as Abigail walked to the bar, grabbed a glass and bottle of booze, and walked to one of the stages. Here, she sat down and poured herself a glass. Only then, she threw Colton on the stage.

His fabric body had barely hit the ground when he was suddenly flesh and blood again. Landing on an ass more plum than his normal one, he knew it was a new body. Just a quick glance revealed the truth. Colton had become a woman. For a moment, Colton was relieved. Everything was better than being a thong stuck on a hook at the ceiling. He'd gladly take a stripper's body if that was his only option.

The impatient snapping of fingers diverted Colton's attention from his new voluminous body to Abigail. "Done checking yourself out? Good." Abigail took a swig and enjoyed it. Making Colton squirm with dread at what was in store for him. She snapped when his eyes darted to the exit. "Don't even think about running away. Dillon and Spencer will catch you. They better be if they don't want to be punished. And even if you should slip out successfully, I have placed a tracking spell on you. There is nowhere to run girl, where I can't find you."

Colton swallowed hard. He had feared as much. It was clear the whole staff of the club was Abigail's thralls. She had to have something on them if she could frighten them enough that none dared to stand up to her. Despite outnumbering her by twenty to one.

"Now." Abigail sat down her glass and leaned forward. "What are you supposed to be?"

He knew it was coming. The inevitable interrogation. Colton just had to stick to the story. It wouldn't save him, but it could prevent acts of revenge by Abigail against the police.

"A bounty hunter," he said and cursed himself for how meekly it sounded.

"Oh, sweety. So wrong. Sounds like you think with your tits instead of your brain. That answer was garbage. What you are, is a stripper. My stripper. At least, as long as you make me money. Got it?"

Colton nodded. Not trusting his voice.

"Then get to it, girl." Abigail took a quick drink before waving impatiently at Colton. "Show me what you got. You get a few days of grace period to improve before you go on a live stage. Either that or the hook. So, give your best, girl."

This was embarrassing. Shameful. Colton had worked hard to not just become a police officer, but a detective. And now he was reduced to a common stripper. Yet, there was nothing he could do. Biting down bitter replies, Colton went to work. Degrading himself like this was still better than being fabric.

"Come on, Titsi. Shake those babies."

Scarlet hated that stage name. It had been just another humiliation Abigail had thrown at her. Now, all the patrons knew her as such. For the life of her, Scarlet couldn't think of herself as Titsi. Even though she had the tits that inspired the stage name. After five weeks in this hell, she couldn't think of herself as Colton either. Or as a man. One way or another, she was stuck as a woman. Or thong. Every closing time, Abigail went around. Collecting all her prisoners as thongs and hanging them up.

She had picked Scarlet as a name for herself. A nod to a character in the novel Gone With The Wind. How could she not? They already shared the same last name. By now, Scarlet had gotten a few of the others to call her by that name. However, never when Abigail was close.

"Do I need to remind you all of what is at stake?"

The shout from Abigail had the intended effect. Scarlet doubled her efforts to look good in her performance. Today, there would be competition. To Scarlet's horror, Abigail had a lot more victims than she had realized. Today, the club was crowded with strippers. All eager to show how good they were.

"Only the top third gets to be my strippers," Abigail reminded everyone. "The rest get to be outfits for another three months. So, get to it. We open in ten. Those who make me the most money stay human. The rest get an extra rinse cycle in the washer tomorrow."

Now Scarlet knew why all her outfits had always felt so good. Making her reluctant to even strip out of them. She had worn sentient garments and hadn't even known. None of the other girls had warned her.

It was obvious when the club opened. A flood of customers rushed in. Tryout day was known to the patrons. Just not how significant it was for those who participated. It was a grueling day for Scarlet. When it wasn't her turn on the stage, she made her way through the masses. Offering her service for a lap dance or two. Anything to earn a little more and stay ahead of others.

She nearly missed it. A small tattoo of a cute little panda peeking out of one guy's sleeve. It was placed right on his wrist. Scarlet circled the club two times before she could make an inconspicuous approach.

"Hey there," she purred as she boldly sat down on his lap. Laying it on thick was not thick enough. This was an opportunity. "Cute tattoo. Had one just like it. Are you thirsty?"

"Really?" The guy looked handsome and muscular too. Even a little familiar. And for once, Scarlett didn't mind that someone checked her out. The guy downed the last sip of his drink and then smiled. "As a matter of fact, I am fresh out. What are you recommending?"

"How about an Appletini?" Scarlet was aware that she drew curious glances from other girls nearby. This wasn't a drink usually ordered in a strip club. But she had to go all in. "The bartender does a mean Appletini. Trust me."

The guy rubbed his chin. "Are you sure? I had other people claim that before and it was a weak ass version."

"It's her specialty," Scarlet insisted. "In fact, I bet all my money on it." And her humanity, but she didn't voice that out loud.

"Okay." He gave her a serious nod. "Let's go with that."

Not a second later, the club broke out in chaos. First, there was the shattering of glass. Scarlet saw Abigail stumble backward and a hole in the wall opposite her. A faint bang was heard too. Just then, Abigail was thrown back again as a light flashed in front of her in the faint outline of a sphere. More glass shattered behind the fashion witch and the first people threw themselves on the ground.

Abigail raised her right arm. To what end, Scarlet couldn't tell as the witch's hand disintegrated into blood and gore. There was a brief moment when Scarlet could tell that Abigail realized what was happening. The fear started to creep into her eyes. Then the whole head exploded along with a large chunk of the bar behind her.

"Geez!" Scarlet exclaimed. "What did you guys use?"

"Fifty cal from about a mile away." The guy had stood up just after Scarlet did. "Anti-material rifles. Works for witches too."

"If you fire enough of them," Scarlet agreed. "Three just to get through her shield."

Around them, the chaos started to tickle down. First, there were a few claps. Then hollering and cheering. The patrons looked clueless why the strippers hugged each other and celebrated a bloodbath.

"I think you need to get on that," Scarlet remarked.

"Right." He climbed on a stage and then shouted in a surprisingly authoritative voice. "Officer Ramirez. SWAT. Everyone down. On your belly. Face to the floor. Now! My team will be breaching in just a few seconds and anyone still standing might be counted as hostile."

Scarlet did follow the instructions before Ramirez was even done speaking. She was so close to the finish line that she'd be stupid to chance it all on a possible friendly-fire situation.

A half-hour later, Ramirez found her leaning against an ambulance. "Antony. Antony Ramirez." He offered his hand. "I take it you are Colton O'Hara."

"Yeah." She shook and his strong hand felt surprisingly nice in her own. "Though I don't know if I can continue calling myself Colton. I've been eyeing Scarlet."

"Like that character in that book?"

Scarlet shrugged. "Might as well. Thanks for the assist, by the way."

"Just doing my job," Antony was quick to say. His words were followed by a blush. "Sorry about ogling you before."

"Part of the job too. I understand." Scarlet let out a short burst of a chuckle. Seeing Ramirez's questioning look, she explained. "Never thought all those silly keywords we learned would save my bacon one day."

Antony shared in her mirth with a laugh of his own. "Yeah, half of those were thought up by my team. We had to come up with stuff applicable everywhere."

"Well, thanks for that. And for saving me." Scarlet gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I think I owe you and your team a drink."

"As long as it isn't a mean Appletini."

"Oh, no." Scarlet shook her head for emphasis. "One mean appletini in a lifetime is more than enough."

Scarlet pushed off the ambulance as she saw the police chief arrive. Time to give her report. But first, she turned around to Antony again. "And who knows. Maybe I'll throw in dinner too. Just for you." With a wink, she marched off. Because she knew the difference between fake ogling and real interest. And Ramirez was definitely into her.

The end.