“What’s going on?” you try to say, but what comes out is, “Que esta pasando?” and not only that, but your voice was not your own, it was a woman’s voice. There is a screen not too far from you, behind the set of cameras pointed in your direction, on it you could see a woman laid out on an elegant sofa, in what appeared to be some elaborate bedroom set of some kind. It only took a moment to notice that the woman on the screen mimicked your every move. “That’s me … I’m her, what is going on?” you shouted, although it all came out in Spanish. The people behind the camera seemed completely oblivious to your shouts, many of them were grabbing at themselves, or running like they’d seen a ghost. You didn’t know what to do, suddenly you’d become an incredibly hot Latina, in the middle of a photoshoot, and every time you spoke Spanish came out instead of English. The whole stage seemed to devolve into pandemonium in mere moments, with people shouting at each other about stealing one another’s bodies and just screaming about some act of God.
Scared that you might get hurt in the madness you get off the couch you’d found yourself and try to head away from the set. You didn’t get very far before you tripped over the impressively tall high-heels your body had been wearing. Somehow you manage to mince your way out of the state without any more falls and avoiding all the madness in the studio.
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