The cashier walks in and grabs you around your neck and lifts you up like a pet shop pro. It's kind of disorienting, because you have trouble controlling your movements when he's got you in this position. He uses a strange flat tool to pry your mouth open; he's responsible for making sure there aren't any visible vestiges of your humanity from any angle. He held you down on the bench and examined the look of your scales from every angle he could see that way. It was hard because you couldn't really stop squirming. He looked disturbingly large from this angle!
Finally he turned you over and ran his hands over your belly looking for anomalies. It felt like getting a medical checkup! It wasn't too bad, though, because you were so long it felt like getting a very LONG belly rub. Then he started getting his hands closer to the base of your tail, and you thought he needed to be careful down there. You hissed when he started manhandling your sensitive vent. Hands off, buddy! What business could have possibly have touching you like that? But then, you had jacked yourself off in front of him, hand't you? You didn't think you had anything to hide from the man then. You'll have to accept the fact that you still don't. He callously and almost mechanically forced the thing open and started looking down into the slit. You would have blushed if you could when even he got your hemipenes to stick out. Your shafts weren't even closed tubes anymore, they just had little grooves for you to flush your semen down when the mood arises.
"New inventory is anatomically functional at first glance, outwardly indistinguishable from healthy male snake," he said to a voice-logger drone. That's what you were now, inventory. That's what you want to be, and you got your wish it seems. He picked you up and lowered you down into a container he brought with him, seemingly done examining your body. Part of you felt kind of bummed that you hadn't been able to defend your most prized opening on this new body for fifteen minutes. You looked up at the human who had literally held your fate in his hands: a dominant species, a species you had given up to be a snake, a snake that some human or other would have total ownership over. Nothing was off-limits for humans, nothing you were was beyond there view or beyond their grasp. You were 'inventory' now, and you were destined to stay that way until you were a pet.
"Well, this is nasty," he said, picking up your shed skin with a grossed at look that embarrassed you even more. "Better get rid of this, and maybe wash my hands for another hour." He opened the trash chute and threw your old self down into it, with such a rough grip that it almost disintegrated before he got it in there. Part of you was rather angry about that. You hissed in your container as the man carried you out of the room.