Click. Click-click-click
The sound imitating a camera shutter echoed through the entire space of the abandoned warehouse complex on the outskirts of Connecticut, and at the same time that very same sound made the young girl in bright yellow tights and a black bra shrink and twitch, as if from tiny electric shocks.
She posed as best she could. Pouted her lips, arched her back into a deep curve, thrust her wide hips to the side. In short, she tried to recreate everything she had so often seen on those very adult sites where she sometimes spent her evenings, always perfectly understanding that even though she never had any problems with sex in real life, girls in porn and masturbation - that’s a completely separate kind of high.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you today, Moni, you’re totally not yourself?” Pamela said, her photographer for today, who just a few minutes ago hadn’t even imagined that this phrase would come out of her mouth so… real. Because right now it easily carried notes of irritation mixed with concern, the kind of concern that’s more typical of someone annoyed at wasted time and possible lost money than of a person who’s sincerely, despite the complete chaos in her head, trying to figure out what’s happening to Moni, or rather to Michael, and help him get his body back.
“M-M-Moni? Pam, you… and what’s with that tone, like, seriously?” Monica said in confusion, crossing her arms over her chest and dropping her gaze.
She instantly wanted to pull her hands away, because the two large spheres on her chest immediately seemed to swell even bigger, and the underwire of the bra painfully dug into her tender skin. But she held back, just huffed and wrinkled her little nose.
“Huh? What do you mean? My tone? Sweetie, we haven’t gotten a single decent photo the whole session. What other tone am I supposed to have?” This time Pamela didn’t even try to hide her irritation, already starting to think maybe it was time to wrap this whole thing up.
“Photos… um, hello? Are you like, totally cuckoo? I mean, duh, we gotta look exactly like those silly roles to finish the assignment and stuff, but like… girl, why—” Only now did Monica realize she wasn’t acting when she said that sentence, “…Wait… why do I sound so, like, super cute right now? AAAH. What the heck?! Why am I keep talking like this even if i'm not, like, try?!”
Pamela stared at Monica in bewilderment. This was definitely the same Monica Valentine: 22-year-old rising porn star? Or was it someone else? Maybe… maybe it really was a guy? Some guy named Michael. Tall, strong - real macho, with whom she had similar perverted tastes. They came here to play out some sexual fantasy of theirs, right? The kind where he pretends to be the rising porn star being photographed, and she’s the photographer he “pays” for the shoot not with money…
“God… brrr…” Pamela shook her head so hard her long hair flew everywhere, trying to chase away the weird thought that had suddenly popped into her mind.
“Oh my gosh, what do you mean ‘brrr,’ sweetie?” Monica snapped back sharply, but immediately, as if telling herself ‘not now’, pulled herself together and added, trying to ignore how the heavy earrings were once again uncomfortably tugging at her earlobes “So like… how much longer till we finish this dumb little thing? Because I literally can’t anymore, okay? This is like… super creepy…”
Pamela didn’t answer. She just raised one eyebrow, gave a slight smirk, the kind a person gives when they want to show that such questions from a model are at the very least inappropriate, but still lifted her phone to check the screen.
“67 out of 100”
“Enough to still get some good shots, sweetie. Come on, show me what you’ve got. Or are you called the new Queen of Cock for nothing?”
“What!? Me?! What do you mean, like, ‘FOR NOTHING’!?” Monica yelled, suddenly hit by a wave of childish offense, and she almost started proving right then and there that it wasn’t for nothing, that she deserved that title and at that very moment she struck such a hot pose that Pam immediately raised her phone to catch the frame.
Except…
The moment she opened her mouth another wave came. Hot. Burning. Impossible to hide from. And after it she just wanted to disappear, to evaporate completely.
She squeezed her eyes shut, calming herself: ‘It’s okay Michael, you can do this. Just do it and then delete this fucking app forever’
Click. Click-click-click
“71 out of 100”
“Baby, what is it again?” a male voice suddenly sounded right next to Monica as she slowly opened her eyes.
“Yeah, like… I…” Looking at Palmer, her photographer for today, Monica even forgot for a second what she wanted to say. She just stared. Just thought that she needed to finish this photoshoot as fast as possible.