Regmore Rigmin
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The Product TG
🕑 Added 2025-10-26 21:00:02 +0000 UTCAdrian Cole despised influencers. Every time he scrolled past another carefully posed photo online, he sneered. “Fake,” he’d mutter. “Plastic. All filters and silicone. Not a real life, not a real job.”
He said it loudly, too—in the office, at the bar, even tagging creators online to mock their content. One in particular drew his relentless attention: Serena Vale, an influencer with millions of followers. He spammed her posts with comments like, ‘You’re just a product.’
One night, Serena replied. Just one message:
If I’m a product, then so are you. Let me show you.
Adrian laughed. But the screen pulsed with light, and his phone grew hot in his hand.
He woke on the floor of a strange apartment.
The air smelled of perfume and ring lights glowed in every corner. Walls were lined with lingerie racks, makeup kits, and backdrops. The bed was draped in silk.
Adrian groaned, pulling himself up—only to freeze. His hands were slender, manicured. His chest swelled beneath black lace. His hair spilled in glossy waves around his face.
He scrambled to the mirror.
A woman stared back. Dark hair, green eyes lined in kohl, lips painted pink. Her body was flawless, sculpted, clad in lingerie.
“No,” Adrian whispered. “No, no, no—”
Behind him, the screen on the wall flickered. Serena appeared, smiling.
“Welcome, Adrian,” she purred. “Or should I say… Selina.”
The transformation wasn’t just cosmetic. It was contractual.
Serena explained that Selina now belonged to her brand. Adrian had been integrated into her influencer network as a “sister account.” His job: model lingerie, pose on beds, blow kisses into cameras.
“You mocked what you didn’t understand,” Serena said. “So now you’ll live it. My followers already love you. You’re trending.”
Adrian panicked. “Change me back! I’m not her—I’m not Selina!”
Serena’s smile was cold. “You signed when you commented. Every insult was consent. Every word you typed gave me power. You belong to the algorithm now.”
The days blurred into content.
Each morning, Selina’s body was dressed in lingerie, makeup reapplied by invisible hands. Adrian screamed, but the livestreams captured only Selina’s sultry giggles. His protests never made it past the filter—the algorithm replaced them with flirtatious banter.
Followers grew by the thousands. “Selina is gorgeous,” they typed. “So much prettier than other influencers.” “She’s real.”
Adrian tried to claw at the mirror, at the hair that wasn’t a wig, at the curves that were now his flesh. But nothing changed.
Serena appeared in messages, coaching him. “Arch your back more. Smile softer. Perfect—see how they adore you?”
Humiliation became endless.
He was forced to pose in every position—on the bed, on the rug, on his knees before the camera. Each time, the likes surged. Each time, his old identity slipped further.
At night, he begged the mirror. “I’m Adrian! Not Selina! Please—”
But the mirror showed Selina blowing kisses, whispering promises to strangers. Adrian’s voice was gone, replaced entirely by Selina’s trained purr.
Weeks passed.
Adrian’s old accounts vanished, scrubbed clean. Friends searching his name found only Selina’s profiles: endless photos, endless streams, endless content. His family called once—“Where are you?”—but the answer was Selina’s voice: “Busy with work, love you.”
Serena messaged again. “You see? You’re not mocked anymore. You’re adored. Isn’t this better?”
Adrian sobbed, but the livestream showed Selina smiling, eyes sparkling.
Months passed.
The brand expanded. Selina was booked for promotions, collaborations, events. Adrian was paraded across hotels, photoshoots, streams—his body a product, his smile a mask. Followers called him “goddess,” “angel,” “queen.”
Inside, he screamed. But no one heard Adrian. Only Selina.
The final blow came when Serena appeared in the mirror one last time.
“Congratulations,” she said. “Your contract is permanent. Adrian Cole no longer exists in any record. Selina Vale is my legacy. My sister. My pet. Forever.”
The mirror flickered.
Adrian reached out, desperate. “Please—don’t—”
But the reflection only blew a kiss back.
And when the cameras blinked on again, Selina posed on the rug, smiling softly, eyes full of practiced allure.
Because Adrian was gone.
And Selina was forever.
