Brittany!

Due to the fact that, while Peter knew where the yoga studio was, he didn’t know where he was to go when he arrived, nor what was expected of him, he felt more than a little nervous. Still, the woman at the reception was nice and showed him in, and there was a spot for Peter to roll out his mat at the back of the class. Yes he missed the first few minutes, but it didn’t matter much. He had no idea what he was doing, and he was pretty sure that those few minutes wouldn’t have unlocked some secret yoga abilities.

Besides, nobody cared that Peter didn’t know what he was doing, that his body was unable to keep up with the stretches, the poses. The way everyone treated him, you’d think he was the star of the class.

“That’s fantastic!” The instructor said from the front as Peter clumsily tried to copy a difficult pose, ultimately falling on his side bumping into another attendee.

“You’re doing great,” that same bumped attendee told Peter soon after as he collapsed due to lack of core strength.

At the end of the lesson, a very tired, very sore Peter received a round of applause from the class. He stood in his mat, face red from the embarrassment of unexpectedly being the centre of attention. The instructor, once the class started rolling up their mats, pulled out her phone and took a selfie with Peter.

“For the socials,” she said, quickly posting the picture before Peter could interject.

At least she didn’t tag my profile, he thought, trying to find comfort that there was now a picture online of him in drag. It was cold comfort to know that, at least while he was performing the day’s task, nobody would think it odd. What would happen the next day? Or the day after? He had to figure a way out of his problem!

“Brittany?” A soprano voice quietly asked from behind him, “is that, like, are you Brittany today?”

Peter turned to see the speaker. It was her.

It was Brittany.

He recognized her from the photos back at Steve and Brittany’s house. She was short, thin, busty, and beautiful. Seeing her in person, Peter realized that she wasn’t much older than he was. What was the age difference between her and Steve? Twenty years? Thirty?

Her long blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and her face, just as it had been in the pictures, was immaculately made up. She was the kind of woman that Peter would have dreamt about in high school but would have never had the courage to talk to.

Of course he would run into her. Peter realized that he should have anticipated it. How was she to know that he was taking over her life for the day?

Standing there in front of her, even though he towered over her, Brittany’s judging eyes made him feel tiny. She looked him up and down, taking in his outfit, his face. She crossed her arms under her large chest and pursed her lips.

“I get it,” she said in her high-pitched, slightly nasal voice, “the outfit it a good pick. Your face, too, looks pretty good. Did you have help?”

“A, er, friend at the mall,” he answered, feeling very exposed, “Look. I’m not trying to take over your life or anything. It’s just that I kind of…”

“You’re not trying?!” Brittany squeaked, a bit of panic in her voice, “Oh my god, well you’d better start, little missy! You have a task to do and I’ll be darned if my life is the job you fail at, especially if you have the resource to get it right right here.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Peter started, “I only meant…”

“Stop it,” Brittany said, “No more excuses. You are going to do this, and you’re going to do this right. You need one day as me, and this is going to be the day. I won’t stand for it if you get it wrong and have to try again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Peter felt anxiety rising in his throat, “That can’t happen, can it?”

“It can if you don’t do your job and get your task done.”

“Shit.”

“Language, little missy,” Brittany said, “No bad words unless you’re alone with Stevie. He likes a little dirty talk when things get hot.”

Peter got flushed at that. She wasn’t expecting him to fulfill that part of her life, was she?

“Now, I’m not saying you’re doing a bad job. You’re here, I could see you were trying your best,” Brittany continued, “but what about the rest of the day? Tell me everything that’s happened so far. We have to make sure that you’re on track.”

It was only a few hours to cover, and so he told her about the day, starting at arriving at her door, ending at yoga. There really was no reason to hold anything back. Brittany had laid out the consequence of not completing his task, and repeating the day was something he had no intention of doing.

Brittany’s face was pensive as she listened. The selection of clothes, Steve’s kids, even the blowjob in the changing room, all of it she took in stoically. It was obvious that she, like all other people Peter had encountered, was fully invested in him being successful. There were no interruptions, no gestures of frustration, just listening.

And then he was done. He had laid it all out, caught her up to the present.

“All in all,” she slowly said, “I think you’re on track. That bit in the store with Cindy, that was a little, like, off brand but since it was with someone who doesn’t know me it’s fine.”

“She was trying to encourage me,” Peter justified the blowjob, “so I could do a better job.”

“Totally, I get it,” Brittany smiled, “I probably would have done the same thing in her place.”

An image flashed in Peter’s mind of Brittany on her knees, her puffy lips around his cock, sucking…

“But, like, now it gets a bit trickier,” she said, shaking the fantasy from Peter’s mind, “because you went on a shopping spree. Steve’s generous, but not that generous. When you go home, he’s going to, you know, have expectations.”

“You mean the fashion show he asked for?”

“Babe, when your sugar daddy says he wants a fashion show and sends your step kids to his mother’s, he doesn’t mean he wants you to walk the catwalk.”

“Shit,” Peter said, realizing what lay ahead for him.

“Language,” Brittany said, “save it for Stevie.”