Doubling down

I woke up to the sound of Clea bustling around in the kitchen. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stretched, feeling a little sore from the heels from the previous night. I made my way to the kitchen, where Clea was cooking breakfast.

"Good morning, Jaz," she said, looking up at me. "How did you sleep?"

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess."

She frowned. "What's wrong? You seem a little off."

I hesitated, then decided to come clean. "I don't know, Clea. I just don't think I can do this. I don't think I can be attracted to men."

Clea put down her spatula and turned to me, her expression softening. "Jaz, it's okay. You don't have to **** yourself to be attracted to anyone. But...I do have an idea."

She proceeded to explain her plan to me, and I felt a knot form in my stomach. It sounded terrifying, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.

But Clea was determined, and she started to show me a video of hot guys doing various activities. I watched uninterestedly, but Clea pointed out specific things she found attractive about each guy - his smile, his muscles, his sense of humor. She asked me to fill up a notebook with things I noticed and liked about the men in the video.

At first, it didn't seem so bad. But as the day dragged on, I found myself getting more and more tired of watching the same video over and over again. Clea didn't let up, though, and she made me keep going until my eyes were strained and my hand was cramping from writing.

I didn't notice at first, but as I filled up the notebook, I started to become more aware of the men in the video. I found myself noticing their smiles, their muscles, their sense of humor.

By the end, I was too tired and too overwhelmed from the day's task. I crawled into bed that night, feeling drained and unsure of what was going to happen to me.

I wake up the next morning feeling groggy and disoriented from my strange dreams. I had dreamed of men, lots of different men, and the dreams were so vivid that they felt real. I couldn't shake off the feeling of discomfort, and the thought of getting up made me cringe. I hear Clea's voice calling my name, and I reluctantly get up.

She's standing in the living room with a large TV set up, and I immediately feel dread. I know that she's going to make me watch something terrible. She explains that today's task is similar to yesterday's, but this time it's a porn montage of men having sex, all from the female perspective. My stomach lurches, and I want to throw up.

Clea tells me to take notes and keep track of the things I find attractive about the men in the video. I can't believe this is happening to me, but I know that I have to do what she says. The video starts, and I **** myself to watch it. I try to focus on the task at hand and write down every little detail that I find attractive about the men.

Hours pass by, and I'm still watching the video. My eyes hurt from staring at the screen for so long, and I'm feeling numb. I'm so focused on writing things down that I don't even notice how good I'm getting at it. I write down things like the men's penises, their muscles, their facial hair, their voices, and their movements.

As the day drags on, I start feeling more and more disgusted by what I'm watching. I don't want to do this, but I know that I have to. I'm confused about the feelings that are bubbling up inside me. I can't tell if I'm developing an attraction to men or if this is just a result of Clea's brainwashing.

Finally, the video comes to an end, and I hand over my notebook to Clea. She looks at it and nods approvingly. "You're making progress," she says. "Keep up the good work." I **** a smile, but inside I feel like screaming.

As I crawl into bed that night, I feel like I'm trapped in a nightmare. I can't believe that I've been reduced to this. But I'm so tired that I can't even think about it anymore, and I drift off to sleep.

I woke up the next morning feeling exhausted from the previous day's task. I didn't even remember falling asleep. But before I could even gather my thoughts, Clea came barging into my room and handed me a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, sleepyhead! Ready for another day of training?" she said cheerfully.

I groaned and rubbed my eyes. "What now?"

Clea grinned mischievously. "We're doing the same thing as yesterday, but with a different video."

I felt a twinge of nausea in my stomach at the thought of watching another 10-hour porn montage, but I knew better than to argue with Clea. She was determined to make me attracted to men, and I didn't have the energy to fight her.

So I spent the day watching men have sex, taking notes on their cock size, girth, and intensity. It was a grueling and torturous task, but I didn't realize how good I was getting at it until I looked back at my notebook and saw how detailed and descriptive my notes were.

Clea would occasionally come in and check on my progress, peering over my shoulder at my notes and nodding in approval. "Good job, Jazmine. You're really getting the hang of this."

But I didn't feel proud of myself. Instead, I felt empty and confused. I couldn't understand why I was doing this, why I was forcing myself to become attracted to men. And yet, I couldn't stop myself from filling up page after page of my notebook with descriptions of men's cocks. Sure, being attracted to men would make my life as Jazmine easier, but at what cost?

At the end of the day, I was drained and emotionally numb. I stumbled back to my room and collapsed on my bed, feeling like I had lost a part of myself. I didn't want to think about what I had just done, but I couldn't escape the nagging feeling that something inside me had shifted.

I woke up to the smell of bacon and coffee, my stomach grumbling in anticipation. I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up, putting on some makeup to hide the bags under my eyes. I chose to wear a white skirt, paired with a white blouse and some simple black heels, and a little bit of lipstick to complete the look. I had gotten surprisingly good and fast at it, the daily task of putting on makeup making a difference.

When I walked into the kitchen, Clea greeted me with a smile and a plate of breakfast. "Good morning, sleepyhead," she said. "You look great today."

"Thanks," I replied, sitting down at the table. "What's on the agenda for today?"

"We're going to work on the movie script with Kyle," she said, pouring me a cup of coffee. "And we're going to practice the kissing scene, so get ready for that."

My heart sank at the thought of kissing Kyle. I wasn't attracted to him at all, and the idea of kissing a man made me feel sick. But I knew I had to do it for the movie. Clea had been pushing me so hard to be more comfortable with men, but I wasn't sure if I could ever truly get there.

We sat in the living room with her, waiting for Kyle to arrive. When he did, Clea didn't waste any time in getting to work. "Alright, let's start with the kissing scene," she said, holding up the script. "Jazmine, you need to be more comfortable with physical contact if we're going to make this work."

I felt my heart race as Kyle and I stood up to rehearse the scene. I tried my best to relax as he leaned in to kiss me, but my body tensed up and I pulled away quickly.

Clea scowled. "Come on, Jazmine, you can do better than that."

So we tried it again. And again. And again. Each time, Kyle's lips felt more insistent against mine, and each time, I found myself responding more and more.

Before I knew it, our kisses were turning passionate, our tongues exploring each other's mouths, our bodies pressed together. Kyle's hands roamed over my back and hips, and I found myself wanting more.

But then, the reality of what was happening hit me like a ton of bricks. I pulled away abruptly, gasping for air.

Kyle looked at me with concern. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't find the words to respond. I felt violated, like my body was no longer my own.

Clea, however, was beaming with pride. "That's it, Jazmine, you're getting the hang of it!" she exclaimed.

I excused myself to the bathroom, needing a moment to collect myself. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but feel like a fraud. How could I let myself get carried away like that with a man?

But deep down, I knew the answer. Jazmine Jade was just a persona, a mask that I wore to please others. Jackson was still there, buried deep within me, and he was the one who truly felt violated by what had just happened.

I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess and my lipstick was smudged. I tried to fix it as best as I could, but I knew it was pointless. I felt like I was going to throw up, and the more I thought about what had just happened, the more I wanted to run away and hide.

I took a few minutes to collect myself before I walked back into the living room. Clea was sitting on the couch, watching us expectantly. Kyle was pacing back and forth, looking at his script.

I took a deep breath and tried again. The kisses were getting more sloppy now, with saliva smearing my lipstick. I felt embarrassed and exposed, but I kept going. I could see the look of excitement on Kyle's face as he kissed me, and it made me feel nauseous.

Clea seemed pleased with my progress, and she kept urging us to continue. "More passion, Jazmine!" she exclaimed. "Make it believable!"

I tried to do what she said, but I was starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. The kisses were getting more and more intense, and I felt like I was suffocating. Kyle's hands were all over me, and I couldn't get away.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Clea called a halt to the session. "That's enough for now," she said, standing up from the couch. "I think you both did a great job. We'll pick it up again tomorrow."

As I stumbled towards the door, I could feel Kyle's eyes on me. I wanted to say something, to tell him how uncomfortable I was, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, I just walked out the door and headed back to my room.

Once I was alone, I collapsed onto my bed and cried. The idea of being with a man, of kissing a man, was repulsive to me.

Clea walked Kyle out of the door, leaving me alone in the living room. I was still shaken up by what just happened, and I felt like I was about to vomit.

Clea came back into the living room and sat next to me on the couch. She put her arm around me and hugged me tightly. "You did a great job, Jaz," she said softly. "I know it's hard, but you're doing amazing."

I leaned into her, grateful for her comfort. "I just can't believe I let him do that," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I never wanted to feel like this, Clea. I never wanted to feel like I was attracted to a man."

"I know, sweetie," Clea said. "But sometimes we have to do things we don't want to do in order to achieve our goals. You're doing this for your career, remember?"

I nodded, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "I know. But it's still hard."

Clea pulled away and looked me in the eye. "You're doing amazing, Jaz. And don't worry, we'll get through this together."

We sat there in silence for a while, just holding each other. Despite the confusion and internal conflict I was feeling, I knew that Clea was right. I was doing this for my career, and I had to do what it took to make it happen.

Eventually, I pulled away and she stood up. "I think I'm going to lie down for a bit," I said, my voice hoarse from crying.

Clea nodded. "Of course, sweetie. Do what you need to do. I'll be here when you're ready."

I smiled weakly at her and she made her way to her bedroom, and I collapsed onto my bed and let out a deep sigh. Despite the turmoil inside me, I knew that I was doing what I needed to do to make it in this industry.