Finding Kiara Pt. 3

The morning light filtered through the windows, bathing the room in soft, golden tones. Kieran—no, Kiara—stood in front of the vanity, taking a deep breath. It was a new day, a new challenge, and today, he was expected to do something that seemed just as impossible as the rest of his transformation: apply his own makeup. Celeste had given him a crash course in the art the day before, walking him through each step with meticulous care. But now, with everything laid out in front of him, the reality of it all hit like a cold wave.

The vanity was cluttered with an array of makeup products, each one more confusing than the last. There were foundations in various shades, tiny vials of something labeled "highlighter," several brushes, sponges, and tubes of gloss and lipstick, all arranged in some sort of organized chaos. He had no idea where to begin. The sheer number of products made him dizzy.

“Okay,” Kieran muttered to himself, staring at the reflection of a girl who wasn’t quite him, but was starting to feel more real with every passing second. He wasn't Kieran anymore, not really. Not when he looked in the mirror, anyway.

His fingers hovered over the array of items, unsure where to start. Celeste had explained everything so thoroughly, yet now, in the heat of the moment, it all felt like a foreign language.

Kieran gingerly picked up the first product that seemed familiar: the foundation. He remembered Celeste telling him that foundation was supposed to even out his skin tone. How hard could it be?

The bottle was heavy in his hand, and he unscrewed the cap, staring at the creamy, beige substance inside. He took the sponge Celeste had given him and dipped it in, pressing the end into the liquid with a little too much ****. A thick glob of foundation splattered onto the back of his hand, and he quickly spread it out, gliding the sponge over his face.

He was supposed to blend it in, right? But it just smeared everywhere, leaving him looking like a child who had gotten into a box of paints. There was no seamless blend, no smooth transition from one part of his face to another. It was blotchy and uneven, and the color didn’t match his skin perfectly, giving him an odd, slightly orange hue.

Kieran winced as he looked at himself. This isn’t right, he thought. But he didn’t know how to fix it. “Okay, just... keep going,” he muttered, trying to **** his fingers into the motions Celeste had shown him. It was harder than it looked, much harder. He was supposed to build up coverage gradually, not just slather it on. Celeste had even warned against overusing the foundation, but Kieran was so focused on getting it right that he had done exactly what Celeste told him not to.

Next came the concealer. He remembered Celeste showing him how to use it under the eyes, around the nose—places where imperfections were most noticeable. He grabbed the tube with trembling hands and squeezed too much out. It pooled onto the skin below his eyes, and he had to dab at it hastily, trying to smooth it out. But the more he tried, the more streaks it created. _This is going to be horrible, _he thought.

Trying to push past the frustration, Kieran picked up the contour palette. He couldn’t even remember what Celeste had said about it, so he just went for it, sweeping the darker shade under his cheekbones. He didn’t know how much to apply, so he put on a fair amount, but it was too harsh, too defined. There was no soft transition, just two obvious lines that looked like he had drawn them on with a marker. He tried to blend it out with the sponge, but it just smeared the foundation beneath it, leaving a muddy mess on his face.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath, his lips forming a thin line. He set the contour palette aside and grabbed a blush instead, thinking maybe that would make everything look a little better. He swirled the brush in the powder and dabbed it onto his cheeks, but he wasn’t sure where it should go. Should it be higher up? Lower? Should he smile and apply it to the apples of his cheeks like in the tutorials? He tried smiling and applied the blush there, but it ended up looking more like a sunburn than the delicate flush Celeste had shown him.

Kieran’s face was a mixture of streaked foundation, uneven contour, splotchy concealer, and blush that could have been mistaken for a child’s attempt at makeup. He stared at himself, his heart sinking. He could already feel the weight of Celeste’s gaze on him. Would she be disappointed in this? Would she laugh?

But there was no time to feel sorry for himself. He had to move on.

Next came the eyeshadow. He had picked a few neutral shades, hoping they would work together. The colors looked good in the palette, but when Kieran tried to apply them, they just muddied together. He used his finger at first, like he remembered Celeste doing, but it wasn’t blending. It was just sitting on top of his eyelids in patchy streaks. He switched to the brushes, but that only made it worse. The darker color he tried to apply in the crease of his eyelid wasn’t even close to what Celeste had done. It was too heavy, too much, and made his eyes look smaller instead of bigger. He frowned, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

This is so much harder than I thought it would be.

But he didn’t stop. He continued on, applying mascara in the same frantic manner he had with the other products. He didn’t realize how much he had overapplied until he blinked and felt his lashes stick together. He cursed softly under his breath, trying to fix it, but the more he tried to comb through them, the worse they got.

The lipstick was the final touch. He had no clue what color to go for, so he picked a nude shade that Celeste had used yesterday. He applied it in the same method Celeste had, but he didn’t account for the fact that his lips were dry and cracked. The lipstick clung to the cracks, highlighting them rather than smoothing them over. He wiped his lips on the back of his hand, trying to fix it, but it just made a mess. The color was uneven, and it looked like he had been in a hurry, which he was.

He sighed, sitting back on the vanity stool, wiping his face with a tissue. I’ll never get this right, he thought, the frustration mounting in his chest.

Finally, he stood up, looking at himself in the mirror one last time. The boy staring back at him wasn’t the polished Kiara Celeste had made him into the day before. He wasn’t the flawless version. He was just a guy who had no idea what he was doing, who was trying his best in the most impossible of circumstances.

But he wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

Celeste would be back soon, and she would have her judgment. Kieran’s stomach churned in nervous anticipation. Would Celeste see the effort? Would she understand?

The only thing Kieran knew for sure was that he had to keep going—keep trying, even if he was failing.

Kieran sat quietly in front of the vanity, his hands trembling slightly from the anxiety that seemed to never leave him these days. His eyes flickered over the reflection in the mirror, taking in the version of himself—Kiara—that he had created. There was an odd feeling of accomplishment mixed with frustration as he scanned over each piece of his outfit. He had chosen everything himself this morning, wanting to prove he could handle it, despite all the doubts swirling in his mind.

He glanced down at his outfit first.

The training bra felt like an odd, confining presence against his chest. The soft fabric stretched comfortably over his skin, but it still felt so alien—so wrong. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was a constant reminder of how far removed he was from his past self. The training bra was designed to be soft and subtle, but to Kieran, it seemed to stand out like a beacon. He could feel it against his chest as he shifted, the straps gently biting into his shoulders.

It was snug, supportive, and practical, but the whole experience was alien. The simple design, a cotton blend with no fancy lace or frills, was a stark contrast to the luxurious lingerie that Celeste had shown him the other day. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to enjoy or resent this piece of clothing. For now, it just felt like something to get used to, like everything else.

Next, his eyes shifted downward to the crop top, which had been the closest thing to a safe choice. It was simple, black, and snug, hugging his torso just above the belly button. The fabric stretched comfortably over his body, but it still felt like a strange compromise. The crop top exposed his midriff, a slight sense of vulnerability gnawing at him as he stood there. There was nothing special about it, just a basic piece that was easy to slip into. The sleeves were short, and it didn’t really give any structure or support, but it was comfortable enough.

In some ways, he wondered if the crop top was meant to serve as a gateway for something bolder. The thought of wearing something more revealing, something even more feminine, made his stomach twist with unease. But today wasn’t the day for anything dramatic. Today, it was all about taking small steps, right?

Moving lower, Kieran examined the leggings. He had chosen a pair of black leggings, almost like a second skin, smooth and tight, hugging his legs from waist to ankle. They weren’t the most exciting thing in the world, but they were flexible and unassuming. They molded around his legs, making his body feel almost like it was encased in fabric.

He had opted for the leggings because, to him, they seemed the safest choice. He knew they were form-fitting, yes, but he didn’t feel like they exaggerated his body’s contours the way some of the more skin-tight pieces of clothing could. He could move in them without feeling too exposed.

He stepped back from the vanity, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. He had chosen these clothes with a certain level of safety in mind, avoiding anything too bold or too revealing. But at the same time, he knew that wouldn’t last. Not with Celeste, not with Vivienne. It was only a matter of time before they pushed him further, made him embrace something he was terrified to face.

As Kieran stood there, lost in thought, he heard the sound of the door opening behind him. He turned his head quickly to see Celeste walking in, her steps light, her presence unmistakable. Her eyes immediately swept over him, taking in his outfit, his makeup, the whole picture.

“Well, well, well,” Celeste said, her voice light and teasing. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, inspecting him carefully. “Look at you, Kiara. You did all this yourself, huh?”

Kieran shifted uncomfortably, his heart pounding in his chest. “Yeah,” he muttered, “I tried my best.”

Celeste raised an eyebrow, walking over to him with an amused expression. “I can see that.” She reached up to gently adjust his hair, brushing a strand away from his face. Her hands were delicate, as always, but there was an edge to her touch. “I can tell you’ve been trying, and I appreciate the effort.” She stepped back to admire him once more. “But, well, it’s not perfect, is it?”

Kieran’s face flushed with embarrassment. He knew that. He could feel the mistakes all over his face. But hearing it from Celeste made his skin prickle with self-consciousness.

“Let’s start with the makeup,” Celeste said, her voice gentle but firm. “You did okay, but not quite there yet.” She picked up a brush and began gently smoothing out the foundation on his cheeks, blending it into his jawline with precise strokes. “You’ve got some streaks here—see? You need to really work that foundation in, Kiara, not just slap it on. It needs to be seamless.”

Kieran nodded, his face burning as she worked on him. He felt so exposed, so ****, sitting there with Celeste fussing over him. His own reflection seemed like a stranger’s, someone who had somehow come to inhabit his body without his permission.

“You’re also heavy-handed with the contour,” Celeste continued, her tone more critical now. “You want subtle definition, not a harsh line. You’re supposed to look like you have high cheekbones, not like someone tried to carve them out with a chisel.”

Kieran closed his eyes, trying to block out the frustration he felt. He wanted to get it right, wanted to please her, but it felt like there was an invisible barrier, a wall between his intentions and the actual execution.

Celeste continued working, fixing his blush, her hands moving with the precision of someone who had done this a thousand times. She wiped off his lipstick and replaced it with a lighter, more natural shade. When she was done, she stood back, eyeing him critically.

“That’s better,” she said, her voice softening, though still laced with the usual authoritative edge. “But it still feels a little off. We’ll fix that with practice.”

Kieran couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of relief, but Celeste wasn’t done yet.

“Now,” she said, standing in front of him with her arms crossed, “repeat your mantra.”

Kieran looked up at her in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, her tone unwavering. “Say it out loud. All of it.”

Kieran’s stomach twisted. He had barely thought about the mantra since the last time they’d practiced it. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but he didn’t want to push her. Slowly, he began to repeat the words, stumbling slightly over the rhythm.

“My name is Kiara Laurent. I am confident, graceful, and poised. I speak with kindness, move with purpose, and dress with elegance. I know what I want, and I know how to get it.”

Celeste nodded approvingly. “Good. Again.”

Kieran’s voice was barely above a whisper as he repeated it. He couldn’t bring himself to say it with the conviction Celeste wanted, but he said it, every word, the mantra ringing in his ears as Celeste worked on him.

She didn’t let up, making him repeat it over and over, her hands working on his makeup and hair as she enforced the mantra. “Again,” she would say, each time a little more insistently. “This is who you are now, Kiara. This is your reality.”

Kieran’s throat tightened as he repeated the words. Every time he said them, the reality of it seemed to sink deeper into his bones. This is who I am now. This is who I am now.

But even as the mantra worked its way into his mind, he couldn’t escape the gnawing sense that everything was wrong. His reflection, the clothes, the makeup—it all felt like an illusion, like something that wasn’t truly him.

Is this really who I am now?

But he didn’t dare ask that question out loud. Celeste was watching, waiting for him to embody the girl she was trying to shape him into.

And so, he repeated the mantra again, and again, and again.

Kieran sat rigidly in front of the vanity, his reflection staring back at him like a stranger, as Celeste continued to refine his appearance. She worked with quiet determination, adjusting the makeup she had just perfected, tweaking his foundation here, adding a little more highlighter there. Her hands were steady as she sculpted his face into the ideal she envisioned, her eyes never leaving his features. She was meticulous—focused on each detail as though the smallest imperfection would break the illusion of Kiara.

“Again,” Celeste's voice was soft but firm, urging him to continue repeating the mantra. Her hands moved skillfully, blending powder into his cheekbones. The gentle brush strokes against his skin felt like a continuous reminder of the transformation he was undergoing. Every motion of the brush, every word he spoke, was meant to reinforce that this new version of himself was real. He had to make it real.

“My name is Kiara Laurent,” Kieran recited, the words coming easier now, though still lacking the conviction that Celeste wanted. His voice was slightly shaky as he spoke, his throat tight. “I am confident, graceful, and poised. I speak with kindness, move with purpose, and dress with elegance. I know what I want, and I know how to get it.”

Celeste gave a subtle nod of approval, but her expression didn’t soften. She continued her work, dabbing a bit of blush to his cheeks, blending it carefully. “Good, but you can do better. Again.”

Kieran felt the weight of the words pressing against him as he repeated the mantra for the umpteenth time. The words echoed in his mind like a drumbeat, each repetition etching Kiara deeper into his psyche. But still, it didn’t feel like him. How could it? It felt like a persona he was trying desperately to adopt, one that didn’t quite fit.

“Say it again,” Celeste ordered, a quiet but insistent command. “I want you to feel it this time. Like you’re embodying it.”

Kieran glanced at her through the mirror, unsure of what she meant, but the unwavering look in her eyes made him swallow his doubts. He took a deep breath and repeated the words once more.

“My name is Kiara Laurent,” he said with more **** this time, but still, it felt disconnected. “I am confident, graceful, and poised. I speak with kindness, move with purpose, and dress with elegance. I know what I want, and I know how to get it.”

Celeste gave a sharp sigh, then stepped back, appraising him. “Better. But you’re still holding back. You need to own it. You need to sound like you believe it, like you are Kiara. You need to stop thinking about it as Kieran and start embracing Kiara as who you truly are.”

Kieran’s breath hitched. Could he really do this? Could he become Kiara? The thoughts were swirling in his mind, but before he could process them further, the sound of the doorbell echoed through the house. Celeste’s eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, her lips curling into a slight smirk.

"Ah, just on time," she said with an air of satisfaction.

Without missing a beat, she turned to Kieran, her gaze firm. "The voice trainer’s here."

Kieran’s heart dropped. His throat tightened at the thought of more training, of trying to adjust his voice even more, to shift it into something it wasn’t. He wasn’t ready for this. The thought of someone else hearing his voice, dissecting it, making him sound more like Kiara, made his stomach turn.

Celeste, seeing the fear in his eyes, gave him a reassuring smile, though it was one laced with a sense of authority. “You can do this, Kiara. We’ve been working on this for a while now, haven’t we? And now, it’s time to take it to the next level. You’ll be fine.”

Her words didn’t help calm his nerves. In fact, they only made him feel more exposed, more ****.

As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. Celeste smiled brightly, a flash of excitement in her eyes. “Come in,” she called, her voice carrying through the hallway.

The door swung open, revealing the voice trainer—a tall woman with short, auburn hair, dressed in a chic, professional outfit. She exuded confidence, her posture straight, her heels clicking with each deliberate step. She had an air of no-nonsense authority about her, the kind of presence that immediately demanded respect.

“Hi, Celeste!” the trainer greeted, her tone warm but businesslike. She glanced at Kieran, her eyes scanning him for a moment. “And how are you, Kiara?”

Kieran stiffened at the sound of his new name, but he **** himself to nod, offering a weak smile. “Yeah, I’m...okay.”

The voice trainer gave him a nod, her eyes narrowing slightly as she assessed his demeanor. “It’s good to meet you again, Kiara.” Her gaze flickered briefly to Celeste. “Shall we begin?”

Celeste gave a quick nod, then gestured for Kieran to stand. “Kiara,” she said, her tone firm. “She’s going to help you with your voice today. We’ve worked on some of it already, but now it’s time to refine it.”

Kieran’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to do this. He wanted to walk away, to escape, but he knew he couldn’t. He had ****.

The vocal coach smiled, her approach gentle yet confident. “Alright, Kiara, let’s start with the basics. We’re going to work on your pitch today, specifically raising it naturally without it sounding ****. The key is to adjust the pitch just enough so it doesn’t sound like you’re trying too hard. You don’t want it to feel unnatural.”

Kieran nodded, though his throat felt dry. His voice was already on the higher end of normal for a male, but it still wasn’t what it needed to be. He couldn’t even imagine how to raise it any higher without sounding ridiculous.

“Don’t worry,” The vocal coach said, as if reading his mind. “It’s about subtlety. We’re not going for a drastic change here. Just a shift. A small adjustment.”

Celeste stood back, arms crossed, her eyes trained on Kieran. “You’ve got this, Kiara,” she said, her voice like a soft command. “Remember your mantra. Keep repeating it in your head. The more you believe it, the easier it will be.”

Kieran swallowed. He had **** but to comply.

The vocal coach continued. “Alright, Kiara. First, I want you to take a deep breath. Relax your shoulders. Let’s start with a simple hum.”

She demonstrated by humming a gentle, soothing note, her voice light and smooth, effortlessly feminine. Kieran, following her example, closed his eyes and attempted the same, the sound coming out flat and rough, like something he wasn’t used to. He winced at the sound.

“Good,” The vocal coach said, encouraging him. “Try again, but this time, aim to relax your throat more. Don’t push the sound. Let it come naturally.”

Kieran nodded and tried again, this time focusing on his breathing, trying to let the air flow more freely. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a little better.

“Better,” The vocal coach said, her eyes gleaming with approval. “Now, let’s work on adjusting your inflection. Instead of just speaking flatly, we want you to start raising the pitch at the end of each sentence. It’s a very feminine trait, and it’ll help you sound more natural. So, let’s practice with a sentence. ‘My name is Kiara Laurent.’”

Kieran felt the sting of her words. It felt like every time he said the mantra, every time he repeated his new name, it became more real, but also more difficult to swallow.

“My name is Kiara Laurent,” he said, his voice still faltering at the end.

The vocal coach smiled gently. “Close. Let’s try again, but with more lift at the end. You’re aiming for a rising tone, not a falling one.”

Kieran took another deep breath, repeating the sentence, this time raising his voice slightly at the end, as she suggested. It was better, but it still felt awkward.

“Good,” The vocal coach said. “We’re getting there. Now, let’s move on to vocabulary. It’s important that your word choices also match your tone. Feminine speech often has a certain cadence, a flow that’s different from more masculine speech. So, we’ll work on a few phrases to help you sound more like Kiara.”

Kieran sat up straighter, his mind racing, but he tried to focus. He tried to believe in the possibility of Kiara, of becoming this new version of himself.

“Let’s start with something simple,” The vocal coach said. “Repeat after me: ‘Oh my God, that’s so cute!’”

Kieran opened his mouth, his voice dry, but he **** the words out, trying to match the enthusiasm the vocal coach had infused into the sentence.

“Oh my God, that’s so cute!”

The vocal coach nodded approvingly, though Celeste’s eyes were sharp, watching every move he made.

“Good,” Rachel said, her voice light and encouraging. “Now, let’s practice some casual conversation. Imagine you’re talking to someone, Kiara. What would you say in a conversation with a friend?”

Kieran hesitated, his mind racing for something, anything to say.

“I, uh, I guess I’d say… ‘Hey, how’s it going?’” he said, trying to sound more natural, but it still felt foreign.

The vocal coach smiled kindly. “Perfect. It’s all about making it feel natural. You’ve got the right tone. Keep practicing, and it’ll start to feel more like second nature.”

Kieran wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyway, keeping the mantra in his head.

"My name is Kiara Laurent. I am confident, graceful, and poised."

And for now, that was all he had to hold on to.