Trolling Supermodels

Snap, flicker, flash!

Sabrina clutched her small purse tightly in her hands, her fingers tense as the relentless flashes of cameras bombarded her. She stood awkwardly, unsure of where to turn, her eyes darting nervously from side to side. 'God, when will they leave me alone?' she thought, biting her lip in frustration. The dress clung to her body, tight and suffocating, making every movement feel stiff and uncomfortable, adding to her unease.

Her chest heaved slightly, the unfamiliar weight of her breasts pressing against the fabric of the dress, making her feel even more trapped. The sensation of her long hair brushing against her bare shoulders only added to her irritation, each silky strand a reminder of how different her body had become. Every step she took in the tight heels made her hips sway in a way that felt unnatural, forcing her to move with a grace she had never needed before.

Sabrina hated it, all of it. The fame, the attention, the constant scrutiny. It felt like a prison, and the worst part was that everyone knew her past. They all knew she used to be Stanley Bowers, the infamous internet troll who had made a living out of mocking celebrities online. All thanks to that damn genie. Still being Stanley, he had made a wish like the true troll he was, thinking it was just a prank—to become a supermodel celebrity. And now here she was, Sabrina Taylor, a thin-bodied girl constantly in the spotlight.

After that Stanley found himself inside this thin bodied girl at the center of catwalk as Sabrina Taylor. Several months had passed since that fateful day, but for Sabrina, everything still felt like a nightmare. Each day, she hoped to wake up and be Stanley again, free from this ridiculous life.

"Baby, what again?!" David's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. Her boyfriend tugged gently on her arm, trying to pull her toward the car. She stood motionless, glaring at him, though her lips curled into a forced smile. 'Fuck, you fucking idiot! How I hate you!' Sabrina bitterly thought looking at David with a forced smile. 'Stupid genie! I didn’t wish to become some girl who falls for every rich dude! Damn, why can’t I resist when I see a guy with money?'

She felt her heart race, her hand instinctively resting on David's chest as if drawn there by some unwanted force. "It's okay... (gulp) honey..." she whispered, biting her lip again, trying to push back the sudden urge to be close to him. 'Fuck! Why is he looking at me like that? I hope he's not mad... Should I just give him a blowjob to calm him down? Ugh, God! I hate myself for even thinking that!'

David patted her gently on the shoulder, his voice soft. "Sabby, baby, please, calm down. Everything's fine. Let's go." He smiled at her, and though Sabrina wanted to shove him away, she couldn't. Instead, she let him guide her into the car, her body almost on autopilot, every gesture seemingly dictated by the soft, submissive part of her mind that she despised.

'He is so cute when he worries... stop it, bitch, stop!' Sabrina thought, feeling her emotions flip-flop inside her. 'I hate him! This isn't me! I'm not some stupid slut who loves rich guys. I'm a man, a real man!' She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, but her heart continued to race. Her body, with all its curves, felt like a prison she could never escape from.

As she settled into the car seat, her long legs brushed against the tight fabric of the dress, and her breasts pressed uncomfortably against the seatbelt. Every sensation was a reminder of what she had become, from the way her silky hair cascaded down her back to the constant tug of her dress over her hips. She felt trapped, like a doll forced into a mold she didn’t fit into.

"Miss Taylor, are we going to the studio?" the driver asked politely, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "It is your scheduled photo session. Do you have anything else to add to the program?"

"Oh, fuck... the studio..." Sabrina groaned, her shoulders slumping. 'When will all this shit be over? I swear I’ll never troll celebrities again, especially women. This life is hell! Fuck you, genie!' She glanced out the window, her eyes catching the bright flashes of paparazzi cameras, her throat tightening as a lump of frustration and helplessness rose inside her. "David, please... take me home," she whispered, her voice trembling with anxiety. 'Take me home... I'm like some stupid princess in need of protection...'

David shook his head, his tone calm but firm. "But darling, you have to go. They're waiting for you. And after the session, we have to meet with the new sponsor to discuss the contract, and then—"

"Yes, I know!" Sabrina snapped, cutting him off. Her lips curled again into that same forced smile. "You're right, we have a lot to do today... It's okay. Let’s go."

Inside, though, she was screaming. She was Sabrina Taylor now, the beautiful, glamorous supermodel who dreamed of fame at any cost. But inside, she was still Stanley, a loser who wanted nothing more than to be free from this ridiculous life and have his old body back.