Hey you—yeah, you, reading this post. This one’s not a quick jolt of transformation kink. I Don’t Own My Likeness is a slow burn, built like a novel, where each chapter tightens the screws and pushes Vince Karros deeper into a change he can’t escape.
Settle in. It only gets more consuming from here.
—JHW
One Last Take
The stars shimmered around him. They weren’t real stars, of course, just reflected gels against the midnight-black backdrop. But from the way Vince Karros stood at the helm, you wouldn’t know the difference.
His eyes were locked onto the forward view screen, yet another example of Hollywood trickery. In Vince’s mind’s eye, it stretched into endless, galactic silence. In reality, it was slathered in a shade of green paint not found in nature, allowing the visual effects department to superimpose whatever they wished into the panorama.
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