Becoming a Rose

A/N: This story was originally published as "Rose Marked" in the Exhibition/voyeur category, and I was rightfully corrected on it.

This story is completely fantasy. The actions and ideas in this story are not condoned by me, the author.

The single craziest day of my life was when I became a Rose on my 22nd birthday.

I was in college, I had a job (not a great one, but a job). I had a dorm room, though it was cramped. The problem was that I was incredibly average. I was on the poverty line, my grades were at a cumulative 3.0, and I was not married or engaged. This put me up for what was called a Tax Relief Work Plan Lottery. I wasn't quite homeless but on the verge if I didn't make something happen fast after graduation, and while I wasn't the most helpless person I knew, I was in a category of savable but not great prospects.

I could have challenged being entered in the Lottery, but there were some actually decent insurance, housing, and job opportunities the Lottery could chance me with if my digital spin went well. I got an email from the Secretary of Tax and Labor telling me that I had until 8 p.m. to challenge, to refuse the Lottery, or it would automatically be done for me.

I let fate ride, and I wouldn't figure out until 8:30 that it was a horrible fucking decision.

My off-the-shelf prepaid phone pinged with a notification, an email update with my Lottery results.

*Good Evening Katelyn Riddick, we at the Department of Tax and Labor hope this email finds you well. Due to your lack of response in regards to the Tax Relief Work Plan Lottery, which your circumstances and age enrolled you in, the Digital Wheel has been spun. Below is your randomized package of comprehensive care, housing, employment, and civil duty. You have 24 hours to appear at your nearest Office of Tax and Labor.*

I clicked on the link and held my breath. My health insurance plan was nice. No car provided by the State. That's fine, my beater was still running. I was being provided one-half of a duplex with utilities included, so that was fantastic. They'd be matching me one-for-one on food assistance versus what I spend. Not bad. My job perk was working the coffee outlet in the university cafeteria. $13 an hour plus tips was better than my minimum wage cashier job at the on-campus grocery store.

The last thing on the list was Civil Duty. I hoped it would be required trash pick-up, shelter work or civil service at town hall or something. But when I clicked on the button to reveal my Duty... my world stopped.

"No. No no no no!" I shouted and threw my laptop across my dorm onto my bed.

"Kate, what's wrong?" Belle, my roommate asked, throwing the bathroom door open, the shower still running. My gorgeous blonde roomie came to my aid in just a towel.

"The Lottery FUCKED ME!" I sobbed and covered my face in my hands as I cried.

"What job did you get? Plumbing apprentice?" Belle teased, hoping to lighten the mood, but it didn't help. She picked up my discarded laptop and studied it. "Housing upgrade, nice insurance, job is better than cashiering. What seems to be the... Oh. Oh hell..." she said quietly, covering her mouth in shock. "Kate... I don't... I am so sorry," she whispered.

"I don't think I've ever even met a Rose!" I sobbed. "Rose" was a nickname for those poor bastards whose "civil service" duty was essentially to be a freeuse whore to anyone with money. For just $25 and scanning a permanent ink QR code that would be applied to my shoulder, anyone could do whatever they wanted to me and 100% of that money would go to the government. Not only did Roses generate serious income for the State, but it also made sexual based crimes practically non-existent. It sucked, becoming a martyr so to speak, but it was a worthy cross to bare. The problem is that I didn't want to fucking bare it.

"Is... is there any way you can fight it?" Belle asked, crouching down next to me beside my desk.

I shook my head. "I waved my right by not challenging the Lottery," I said sadly. "Only 1 in 10-maybe 20,000 people are selected as roses," I sniffled. "How the fuck is it that my luck has to be that bad?"

All Belle could do was hug me and let me cry. Soon, my body would be the property of the State, and I would be subjected to the fantasies and uses of anyone with a phone and $25. I wasn't even allowed to be an expensive fuck.

---

I didn't sleep at all that night. I canceled my birthday plans and hid in the dorm all night, feeling sorry for myself. In the morning, I would report to the Office of Tax and Labor and I would be stamped with a non-removable QR code, and a small black rose tattoo would be penned under my left eye like a prison teardrop tattoo to symbolize to everyone that I was "for the good of the state." As a Rose, I was also exempt from nudity and indecent exposure laws. If someone paid the fine, they could strip me bare at work, in the middle of class, or on the subway. I could try to wrestle my way out of it, try to fight, but they could get rough and make me submit as long as I wasn't actually struck or beaten.

I woke up at my usual time of 6 a.m. I showered, got dressed in a tank top since they'd have to ink my arm anyway, slipped into a pair of jeans, and had a bowl of cereal. It didn't taste good, or even taste. It just felt like wet ash in my mouth.

After my sad breakfast, I just stared at my phone and read more into what my life as a Rose would be like, and it didn't seem too great. The only thing I could be happy about is that the Lottery was practically paying for my entire existence, and the money I made at my job would be pretty much straight profit.

If I managed my life well, and raised my social and economic class, I could eventually get out of having to be a Rose. But until I was completely self-sufficient in everything the Lottery gave me, I was stuck being a walking, talking sex thing.

I got in my car at 7:30 and drove straight to the Office, just wanting to tear the bandaid off. I got there at 7:57, and right at 8 as they unlocked the door, I was the first one in.

"Uh, hi," I said shyly, my feet barely moving past the door. "I-I'm Katelyn Riddick. I'm here to report for my Lottery assignments."

"Why so shy, Ms. Riddick? Bad assignments?" the cheerful and bubbly woman behind the desk asked.

I made my feet shuffle as I approached the desk. "Well, most of them were great," I say and hand her my ID, "but the civil duty isn't my favorite," I said, biting my lip.

The nice woman scanned my card, clicked on a few buttons and then grimaced. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry," she said with genuine sympathy. "I will say, though, you are the prettiest Rose I've seen come through this office."

I blinked a few times. "You look pretty young, so you can't have been here super long. I thought Roses were really uncommon."

"They are, but I'm a caseworker for Roses. I'm here to meet with you and get you set up for your Civil Duties. I just didn't know you were my Rose until I opened your file. It's completely randomized, and I've seen some average and unappealing Roses, but you my dear, are going to make the State a lot of money."

My breath caught as she reached over the counter and I wanted to shy away from her touch, but my body didn't move back half as far as I wanted to. "Silky raven-black hair, flawless creamy skin, plump and kissable lips, gorgeous figure with pert breasts any guy or girl would die to feel the weight of in their hands. I bet your ass is to die for, if it goes with what I'm seeing." This bitch sounded like she was salivating at the idea of me becoming a Rose. "Let's get this process started, shall we?" she asked as she came around to the end of the long counter and came to my side of it.

"Roses by far are the most complicated Civil Dutiests to process, because frankly, you have the most involving job and need the most safeguards," she explained. She grabbed me by the shoulders and made me turn around so she could look at all of me, and I was thankful I was still clothed. "Tall, leggy, and a gravity defying ass. You might break records for tax revenue from a single Rose," she giggled and I wanted to vomit.

She took me by the hand and led me to an authorized personnel area where she fingerprinted me, had me kick off my shoes and took my height.

"5'8! Perfect height. Tall and sexy but not Amazon enough to scare people off. Now, clothes off, down to bra and panties so I can get your weight," she ordered.

I felt like a pig at a slaughter auction as I undressed, my fingers trembling as I took off my top and then my jeans, pushing them down my shapely legs.

"Look at the body on you!" she beamed. "You have to be an athlete."

"Basketball," I nodded. "I'm on the university team. I'm not a good shot, but I'm the best defensive player on the team," I said, trying to keep myself distracted from what was happening to me. I stepped on the scale and after 5 seconds, it dinged.

"Oh, perfect weight. The BMI says you're a little overweight, but that's nonsense. You're fitter than a fiddle!" She smacked my ass and my jaw dropped at the unprofessional way I was being treated. "Next I'm going to need you to strip completely naked for me, hun."

"What? Why?" I shrieked indignantly.

"Because we need to photograph your entire body before you become a Rose. It's for your own safety. This way if anyone mistreats you, you can get the proper medical attention and defense that you need, free of charge to you. Did you do any research last night when you got your email?"

"Uh, a little," I said as I slipped my bra off of my arms, revealing my pert and rounded tits to the caseworker. "I know I'm not allowed to be outwardly hit if I put up resistance."

"That's right," she nodded as she drank in my form. My instinct was to cover up, to hide my nakedness, but I knew she'd be photographing me, so I didn't see a point. "We keep these photos as reference, so if you file an Abuse Claim, we can compare what was done to you versus your original photos."

"That does make me feel a little better," I muttered and rubbed my arm.

"Nobody is allowed to really beat on you, hit you or kick you. No bruises, no finger marks on your arms or neck are allowed. This is your Civil Duty, but you are not to be abused."

"I appreciate that, but... the State doesn't expect me to just... be used willingly, does it?" I ask, looking at her, worried for her answer.

"No, nobody starts off that way. However, Roses are the only Civil Dutiests that are legally permitted to accept tips. If there's a grungy SOB or an elderly man, it's your right to attempt escape. It's also their right to use you if they pay the fee, so it's a battle of cunning and will, and that's part of the pull for some people," she said. "Can you weasel out before you're scanned, you know?"

My eyes went wide at this information. "So if there's a really cute girl, per se, she might pay me out personally?" I blushed at the question, but it was a happier idea than me being used by some geezer that was old enough to be my grandfather.

"Yes. So let's say you give someone a really good service, they scan your code and they pay $40 instead of $25. You keep that $15. That so-called overflow goes into an account linked to a Rose Card you will be issued. It's meant as an incentive to have you let more people use your services. You can save that money to increase your life situation and get out of service sooner, or you can live off that money. It's up to you."

"Okay, so what happens in a situation where I don't want to engage with someone?" I ask.

"You are under no obligation to engage with someone until your code is scanned. You don't have to do anything until the fee is paid. However, if you refuse service after your code is scanned, there will be consequences to you that I can almost guarantee are going to be worse than the act you're trying to escape, and the punishments compound over your service."

"Oh my God," I said, my face losing more color as I stopped, my panties half-way down my thighs. "This is... a lot," I whispered, feeling overwhelmed.

"I know. It's why Roses are the only Civil Dutiests with caseworkers," she giggled and set up a camera. "Please stand up straight and proud on that 'x' on the floor, please," I was instructed.

I sighed and did as told. Having my naked pictures taken was humiliating, but it was a necessary insurance policy. "So if someone gets too rough with me, how would we go about getting the guy who did it?"

"That's a good question," she said. "We'd go through your scanned transactions, find who used you and arrest him for damage to government property as well as allow you to sue for damages to yourself."

"So if I'm assaulted, he's sued by the State and me? We both stand to have claims, so that makes me feel better on whether or not the State would actually do something about it."

"Ms. Riddick, this whole Rose system is, admittedly, barbaric. However, the State does take care of its Roses' needs, because the good Roses make the State a lot of money."

"What... what about the Roses that don't?" I asked as I turned every way she directed me, like mug shots.

"The Roses that aren't very appealing are put into an incentive program to... become appealing. They're taught advanced hygiene, cosmetic skills, they're matched with a dietician and personal trainer. The State won't force cosmetic surgery, but it can do everything just short of that. Now I need you to remain calm for this next part," she said as she stepped right into my personal space and crouched down.

"What are you doing?" I asked quietly and tried to step back, but with one hand she grabbed my thigh and wouldn't let me step back.

"I need to get pictures of your vagina so we have a reference of how it naturally looks versus if someone forces themselves on you or gets too rough." She looked up at me expectantly. "Put your foot on my shoulder so I can get a good shot."

I closed my eyes and lifted my leg, giving this stranger one hell of a view of me, and I wanted to cry. But before I knew it, she said, "All done."

"Can I get dressed again?" I asked hopefully.

"Almost. Please turn around with legs wide apart, back arched and hands braced on the wall."

"Woah woah, what?" I stammered, following her instructions in my head and not liking the picture of me I saw.

"We need to document your... well your anus, too, for the same reasons," she said as casually as she could.

"God damn it," I cursed and rushed to get through this. I gasped when I felt her hand on my asscheeks, spreading me apart wider. I heard the click three times, and I blushed madly when it took her another 5 fucking seconds to stop spreading me open.

"Now you can get dressed," she said pleasantly as if I hadn't just been exposed more than I ever had before to a stranger. "You have a perfect body, Ms. Riddick. Everyone around you should consider themselves lucky."

"You're enjoying this way too much," I growled as I got my underwear back on. "I still can't believe the State can legally enforce this." I wasn't shocked when she refused to comment.

"Okay, now we're going to apply your Rose and your QR code," she said as she led me to a table. "The rose and code don't need tattoo needles. Hot compress is all it takes." Everything she needed to make me a legal sex slave to the State was right there, and I was feeling extra nauseous.

She brought me a chair to sit down on, but that was the only kindness offered as she applied the black ink rose on my cheekbone, and the code to my shoulder. They worked essentially like temporary tattoos, but these would last up to a year.

"After the first year your social and economic progress will be audited. If you're still using the Lottery's assistance in any capacity, you'll be given refreshed tattoos."

Tears finally rolled down my cheeks as she turned on a small fan to help the ink dry. I was officially a Rose, and once I left this office, I was in an at least one year long game of never ending cat and mouse. Could I save myself before they could scan me? How could I cover my rose tattoo and my code?

"You'll be okay, Ms. Riddick," she said and touched my arm lightly. "Some Roses even come to like it after a while. I know I did after the first months."

"You were a Rose?" I asked, not sure I believed her.

"Of course. I have to be a former Rose to be a caseworker for them. It's the experience of being a Rose and knowing what it's like to be one, to know how to help them and represent them."

I shook my head. "I should have challenged the damn Lottery. My chances of this were so slim, but I made a bad draw," I said in defeat. "I don't know how I'm expected to live like this," the tears fell again. "I'm supposed to just... go about my daily life, job, classes, knowing that at any time I can get jumped, groped, stripped and fucked in front of anyone?"

"Katelyn... give it a chance," My caseworker urged. "I was a Rose for five years, because I came to love it. At first it was the worst thing. I wanted to die. It was humiliating and embarrassing. But the tips were fantastic, I could dodge the people I absolutely didn't want because they were out of shape or old. Seeing the ways the nondesirables had to come up with to get me was insane and thrilling. To be the only one naked and for it to be legal was just... it actually becomes exhilarating in the craziest way. It will also let you know who your real friends are and who your fair weathers are," she said softly.

I took in her words. My tears stopped, but I still felt numb. "Let's just... let's just keep this going," I sighed and ran a hand through my long black hair.

"You have pretty eyes," she said, looking up at me while she scanned a card. "You look so Irish with that black hair and emerald green eyes."

"I'm Irish on my mom's side," I told her and then I froze. Oh my God. If my parents find out I'm a Rose! I bit my finger and tried to stop from breaking down again.

"It's okay, Kate. You didn't choose this. The Lottery chose it for you. And it's a Civil Duty, the cause is a wealthy and happy country and a historic decline in sexual assault and crimes. Your parents will most likely be sympathetic and do what they can for you. Your friends, too. It's what I meant by fair weather. Good friends will support you while you get used to being a Rose."

After she gave me my Rose Card, a basic looking debit card with a white background and a red rose on the front, she held up a key. "This is for your new duplex. There are already movers clearing out your dorm to move you in."

I blinked. "Oh, uhm, wow," I said with genuine surprise.

"Your Rose duties start the moment you walk out the door, so we want your new lodgings to be available to you as soon as you get home."

"What's to stop me from just hiding my Rose and code?" I asked as I took the key.

"Well, bronzer and concealer cannot be sold to you. Covering your Rose with the exception of long hair is a crime. We don't police your clothing, but people that need to pay the fine will make your code... accessible, one way or another," she explained.

"Christ," I said, glad I was still sitting down.

"And if the State doesn't make money off of your code, I'm sorry to say that you will lose Lottery benefits."

My eyes widen. "If not enough people use me, I'll lose food, housing, and health insurance?"

"As well as the job secured to you by Lottery, yes."

I leaned back in the chair and hugged my knees to my chest. "Fuck."

The nice yet perturbing woman stood beside me and placed her hand on my arm that had been marked. "You'll be okay, Kate. Every Rose gets through this. And once you're done with your Duty, Roses have a very high hiring rate. If they can't find work on their own, the State will provide something for you. But it's time for you to get out there and begin your Civil Duties."