Author's Note: With permission of Harbinger96, I've borrowed his milieu as found in Becoming A Rose. I hope I am doing it justice with my parallel inspired by his work.
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My mom constantly told me that I was prone to act without thinking before hand, and it would be the death of me. That always sounded hyperbolic, so I ignored it mostly. She might have been right about my tendency to go off half cocked so to speak. It was about to get me in trouble again.
"So, what name you going by today? Pollyanna, Polly, Pol?" asked my gamer buddy. "Your hair's a mess, you know."
"Get stuffed Jake," I leveled at his reflection in the darkened video screen before the game respawned.
"Come on Pol. Lighten up already. It's Saturday, we got nothing pressing going on, why don't we go down to Riverside Street market? The street tacos are worth killing for."
Pollyanna rolled her eyes. "You always think with your stomach! There's too many people."
"You know you wanna," he cajoled, "I'll buy you a churro."
Dammit, that was below the belt. He knew it was nearly impossible to resist that fried confection. "Get stuffed Jake," I added with less heat than from the previous time. Now if only I could figure out how to make it seem like my idea instead of his. Better to relent and deal with his good-natured teasing than to be in a huff all day long. "Fine. Let's go before I change my mind."
Down at the Riverside Street market, the crowds were lighter than I expected. Perhaps it was the cloudy skies that brooded with the possibility of rain. That didn't matter though. The slight hint of electricity in the air was kind of thrilling, like something was going to happen. Maybe destiny was shining down from the overcast heavens.
A fairly plain looking brunette walked by, eyeing the arts and crafts lined up throughout the vendor booths. Her wavy hair framed an ordinary face, and she carried herself with an easy grace. Any other time I'd probably have overlooked her, but there it was; the sort of smallish tattoo on the Rose's face peeking between the drifting strands of the brunette's coiffure. A rose tattoo and the barest hint of a QR code under the billowy sleeve of her linen tunic top with the loosely tied collar.
Roses, and this was the closest I'd ever been to one, were not supposed to hide or conceal their tattoos or QR codes. While that girl was not exactly hiding, she wasn't flaunting either. My fortune from the Tax Relief Work Plan Lottery had landed me a full time job in a copy center at just enough above minimum wage for meager savings. It also allowed a tiny studio apartment at below market rent and decent insurance. The Civil Duty assigned, while arduous was not onerous and also provided me with a modicum of fresh air and exercise lest I get flabby and lazy moping around.
Despite myself, I'm drawn to the Rose. It wasn't her beauty and it wasn't a sexual attraction. The Rose seemed entirely oblivious to the potential for an impending state sponsored rape-fest, utterly unaffected by the huge possibility that she would likely be bent over and fucked against her will before leaving the market. Maybe I was reading more into the situation than there really was. Hopefully the Rose would be able to leave unmolested before I had to watch it happen.
"Hey Pol, why are you following the Rose?" Jake asked, breaking through my entranced state.
Turning, I glared daggers at Jake, wishing he had kept his fat mouth shut. Of course, Jake would have spotted the Rose. Of course, Jake would be as oblivious to the situation fraught with sexual danger as was the Rose. I was going to shush him and pray that nobody had heard. It was all for naught.
"A Rose? Where?" came from a man to the left, and then another.
Glancing back in the direction I'd last seen the poor girl, willing her to already be making an escape, she wasn't. The Rose had stopped to look at another display, wind ruffling her sleeve as she reached out to touch something. The QR code flashed briefly to view.
"Oh, there! Stop her. Stop the Rose!"
Dread welled in my chest along with a feeling of guilt for having given away the Rose's location with a stray glance. My sense of responsibility goaded me toward helping the Rose. I took half a dozen steps toward her, watching in horror as the girl was hoisted by the waist into the air as another man yanked the skirt straight from her hips. Nobody had yet scanned the QR code before they commenced man-handling her either.
In outrage I yelled out, "Hey! Stop that! That's illegal! Somebody help her!"
Jake call out after me, "Pol, don't do it," though I scoffed.
I was running already, and made it as far as the crowd that was building around the Rose before my movement was impeded. The Rose was totally stripped by that point and still hadn't been scanned to my knowledge and she was starting to moan as the man's erection was slowly being pushed up into her, stretching her nether lips insistently as he pulled her hips down, legs dangling in the air.
The crowd around the Rose all had their phones out recording the spectacle, and made it impossible for me to enter the circle without shoving and pushing and straining. I was almost through when hands clamped down on my shoulders and a gruff voice commanded, "Stop interfering!"
"I'm not interfering, he didn't scan her, that's illegal, he can't..."
"Okay, you asked for it. You're getting marked for interference," said the smirking hulk accosting me.
Struggling against my captor, still trying to get through to the Rose's defense, I demanded, "Let me go Sasquatch!" That's when fists wrapped up the back waist band of my jeans. I tried to make a grab for them but they were already sliding past my knees and I shrieked at the sudden exposure, many of the recording phones began turning my way.
This wasn't my first pantsing in public; that was at my 19th birthday party. This time was different, it wasn't happening because of a friendly dare. This time at least one or more of the crowd was about to use me. Zero to panic in a nano-second. I planted my feet in an effort to wrench my torso free, but my train of thought was derailed when I saw the look of bliss on the Rose's face. It dumbfounded me, and set me up for what followed.
When my shirt and bra were hoisted over my head and used to tangle my wrists, I yelped and cried out, "Stop! Let me go! Don't do this!" The futility of my pleas dawned on me when my feet were hauled up into the air by the pants around my ankles. "Help! Somebody, help me!" They stretched me out over a table display of canteloupes. I cringed, because my nipples were already sore from my bra being wrenched over them, but they dropped me on top of the scratchy melons abrading my tender breasts.
The brute that held my wrists reached toward my face with a marker. Shaking my head only managed to avoid having me marked for so long until another hand held it still with a fist in my hair. I screeched as he marked me and whimpered as he handed the marker to the one behind me saying, "Here, mark each ass cheek as well."
