You look at the barbarian costume. It's a loose body suit shaped like a buff blonde tan guy in a loin cloth. You're tempted, but there are so many others. The next one on the rack is a buff black dude in basketball shorts. It's funny, he reminds you a lot of that guy Kirby who is always playing basketball at the park. It's definitely an extra tall costume, so you pass on it. The next one is a Santa suit. You chuckle Santa for Halloween, maybe. Still it's a bit creepy, it reminds you of the mall Santa who disappeared last year. It was in all the papers. The guy had a real white beard, and big belly. You drop the fat man suit back on the rack, and look at what's hanging on the last hanger.
It's just a zipper. Now that's a novel idea. You could go as a costume. You chuckle.
"Say, mister, how do you put this one on?" you ask holding up the zipper.
"Ah, that's a good novelty costume. Just take off your shirt, and it adheres directly to your skin. Do you want to -" he reaches for a cowboy hat, chaps and vest, but pauses as he sees your bare torso. You have a Greek letters of a local frat house tatooed on your arm. "On, second thought..." he says picking up a beer hat (you know a baseball cap with two beer can holders and rubber tubes that go in the wearer's mouth). "Your own boxers will do nicely."
"Huh?" you say as the zipper strip seems to leap from your fingers to attach to your chest. There's not even a seam. You reach for the zipper out of curiousity, you pull down opening the zipper. There's a hiss, you feel terribly weak, a yellow-green gas escapes from the zipper opening, and you begin to deflate.
You feel the hands of the merchant on you. He pulls your zipper all the way down and slips a hanger inside. He puts the beer hat on you sticking the end of the hose in your mouth. Then he hangs you on the rack in front of the barbarian. You are vaguely aware, as you hang there in a stupor as the store owner picks up your jeans, shirt, socks and shoes. He extracts your wallet from the jeans, and adds the cash to his register till. You hear the cling of the register bell.
Time seems to standstill and race by at the once. One moment you're hanging there. The next moment, the door chimes as another customer enters. That nerd pledge you blackballed during rush enters. He seems depressed.
"Well, son, looking for a costume?"
"Yeah, I need a cool costume that can get me into the hottest frat party on campus," he says.
Your frat is the hottest frat on campus, you think.
"I have just the costume for you," the merchant says.
You are startled as you feel yourself lifted off the rack.
Hey, I'm no costume! you think. There is the horror of the sudden realization that you are in fact a costume, and the dumb nerd is about to climb inside you.
"No way! That looks just like - uh, this dude I know," he says with excitement. Then he says sadly, "But it's too big for me."
Whew, you think.
"Here's the changing room. Why don't you try it on anyway? It's guaranteed to fit," the owner assures him.
"Well? It might be fun to see, even if it's a bit too large."
No, no, no, your mind rages.
He carries you into changing room. The nerd strips down to his socks and tighty whiteys. He reaches for you.
The store owner peers over the changing room door. He says, "Oh, no. You need to take off your shoes and shorts too. The costume is anatomically correct. It's an adult costume. You can even take a piss, while wearing it without breaking character."
"No way - but is this sanitary?"
"I assure you, no one else has worn that costume. It's brand new to the shop. Just came in yesterday. But even our used costumes are sanitized between rentals. Of course, you may decide to buy this one," the man says hopefully.
He says, "Well, if you say so."
He waits until the man disappears from the door, and then he kicks off his socks and drops his drawers.
You shiver.
He reaches for you again. He slides you off the hanger, and steps inside.
NO, no, no. Stop. No. Please, don't! your mind screams, as he puts you on. Then he zips you up, and you feel different. You have a sense of security, a feeling of belonging, a feeling of ownership. As the zipper locks into place at the top of the zipper closure, you think happily, Yes!
The nerd stares at his reflection in the mirror. It's your reflection, but he's looking through your eyes and he's wearing you. He removes the rubber hose from your mouth, and the hat from his head. He must like what he sees because there's a smile on his face, and your boxers are tenting.
"I don't know how -" the nerd starts to say. He stops, laughs, "Wow, it not only made me taller, and buffer, but I swear my voice is deeper and more commanding." He shouts over the door, "I'll take this one, and I'll wear it home."
"Right oh, I'll ring it up, while you dress," he calls back.
The nerd foolishly tries to pull his old clothes on to your body, he can't even get his jeans over your thighs - his new larger thighs. His feet won't even fit in his shoes now.
"Uh, do you have anything else I can wear?" he asks stepping out of the changing room wearing only your boxers.
"Sure, the non-bodysuit costumes and clothing are on the wall there. You know a spandex cycling suit would look good on that muscled body. I'd say you need a size large now," the man says.
Spandex? That's so gay! No - uh, unless that's what you want, owner, you think. Your feel confusion. The idea of being seen in spandex is embarrassing to you, but then you know that it's not what you want that matters, but what your owner wants. A small voice in the back of your mind nags, I'm not owned, I'm a man. I can't be owned by this nerd. I love this nerd. Conflicted, but unable to resist. You feel the spandex in your hand as he looks at several different cycling suits. He lingers for a moment, then he reaches for...