Identity Crisis

Jazmine sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the mirror across the room. She had been like this for hours, unable to move, unable to shake the feeling of absolute numbness that had settled over her. The events of the past few days had taken their toll, leaving her an emotional wreck.

Jazmine stared at herself in the mirror, feeling like a stranger in her own body. Her breasts, now a perfect, natural-looking size, sat high on her chest. Technically, there was silicone beneath her skin, but they felt real to her. Her slim figure had been achieved through weeks of skimpy meals, her skin was so smooth from the HRT and constant shaving, her voice effortlessly feminine and sultry after weeks of practice, and her hair was long, luscious, and impeccably maintained.

“How did I get here?” she whispered to her reflection, her voice barely audible.

Every morning, she went through the same ritual: makeup, wardrobe, hair care. Today was no different, but it all felt so heavy. Her heart wasn’t in it. She was an emotional mess, barely holding it together. She applied her foundation mechanically, blending it until her complexion was flawless. Concealer followed, erasing the dark circles under her eyes, a testament to sleepless nights filled with guilt and confusion.

As she meticulously applied her eyeliner, she thought back to how she used to be. Not long ago, the idea of flirting with a guy, let alone sucking them off or getting fucked, was unimaginable. Yet here she was, doing just that, all in the name of a career that seemed to demand everything from her. The FemmePro was supposed to be a barrier, a way to engage without truly engaging, but it didn’t make her feel any less used.

“Is this what it takes?” she muttered, darkly outlining her eyes.

Clea had been trying to be supportive, but Jazmine couldn't bring herself to open up. Every time Clea asked what was wrong, Jazmine would stay vague, deflecting with generic responses. She knew Clea could see through her lies, but Clea never pushed, respecting her space.

“I’m here for you, Jazmine. You know that, right?” Clea had said the night before, her voice soft with concern.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just… processing,” Jazmine had replied, her words hollow.

As she brushed her hair, she marveled at how it had grown so long and healthy. She used to have a short, scruffy hairstyle, so different from the luxurious mane she now possessed. Each stroke of the brush was a reminder of the transformation she’d undergone, physically and mentally. She wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

Her outfit today was simple: a tight, black pencil skirt that hugged her curves and a silky, white blouse. She paired it with a lacy, black push-up bra and matching thong, garments that had become her new normal. She couldn’t help but think about how her male self would have never imagined wearing such things.

“How did I become this?” she asked her reflection, feeling the weight of her choices bearing down on her.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Clea entered, her face a mask of concern. She looked at Jazmine, taking in her weary expression and the slight tremble in her hands.

“We need to talk,” Clea said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Jazmine sighed and nodded, following Clea to the living room. They sat down, and Clea took a deep breath before speaking.

“Jazmine, I need to tell you something. About Michael Pinero,” Clea began, her voice steady but pained.

Jazmine looked at her, curiosity and dread mingling in her gut.

Clea’s eyes were filled with regret and pain as she spoke. “When I was younger, I made some bad choices. Got involved with the wrong crowd. I ended up owing a significant debt to some very dangerous people. Michael found out about it somehow and used that information to coerce me into doing things I didn’t want to do. Things I’m not proud of.”

Jazmine’s stomach churned as she listened. She could see the fear and desperation in Clea’s eyes, the same fear she had felt in that meeting room with Pinero.

Clea reached out, taking Jazmine’s hand. “I know what you went through with him. And I’m so sorry. If I could have protected you, I would have.”

Jazmine squeezed Clea’s hand, her voice shaking. “I don’t know how to feel about all this, Clea. I’m just... so lost.”

Clea pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly. “We’ll get through this, Jazmine. I promise. You’re not alone.”

Jazmine buried her face in Clea’s shoulder, tears finally falling. She felt like she was falling apart, like the weight of her double life was crushing her. She was supposed to be strong, but all she felt was broken.

After a while, Clea pulled back, wiping Jazmine’s tears away. “Listen, I know it feels like you have to do these things to get ahead. But you have to draw the line somewhere. You can’t let people like Pinero destroy you.”

Jazmine nodded, though her resolve was shaky. “I know. It’s just... hard.”

Clea cupped Jazmine’s face in her hands. “You’re a strong, beautiful person. Don’t let anyone take that away from you. Not even yourself.”

Jazmine felt a flicker of hope, but the weight of her actions still pressed heavily on her. She thought about the things she’d done—the men she’d serviced, the degrading encounters, all to further her career. Was it worth it?

Her mind drifted to the memory of Jared, the guilt of getting him fired, and now, the shame of what had happened with Pinero. Each act felt like a step further away from who she once was. She wasn’t just compromising herself; she was losing herself.

“Maybe this is the price I have to pay,” she thought bitterly. “Maybe you really do have to suck and fuck your way to the top in this profession.”

But the question remained: how much more could she take? How much further could she go before she completely lost her sense of self? She wasn’t just a woman pretending to be someone else. She was a man buried beneath layers of lies and deceit, struggling to survive in a world that demanded everything.

As she sat there, holding Clea’s hand, Jazmine made a silent vow to herself. She would find a way to navigate this treacherous path, to reclaim some part of her true self. It wouldn’t be easy, and it might require sacrifices she wasn’t ready to make, but she had to try.

For now, she would play the role expected of her. She would wear the makeup, the clothes, the mask of Jazmine Jade. But deep inside, she would hold onto the remnants of Jackson Steele, hoping that someday she could walk away from Jazmine Jade.

Jazmine wandered through the next few days like a ghost, feeling slightly better, but still far from okay. The memory of what happened with Pinero lingered, festering in her mind. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being tainted, used, and it haunted her every moment.

As she went through her routine, some of her doubts and concerns began to find a semblance of resolution. She thought about her role as Jazmine Jade and the grand plan Clea had laid out for her. Was it worth it? Was this the price of fame and success? She found herself reasoning that being an actress meant sacrificing parts of herself, that this was just part of the game. But the internal struggle of being Jackson Steele underneath it all added another layer of complexity and pain.

The Michael Kors shoot was a blur. She moved through the poses, smiled on cue, and followed directions without really being present. Her mind was elsewhere, clouded with the events of the past week. The team praised her performance, but she barely registered the compliments, feeling disconnected from the entire experience.

A week later, Jazmine found herself finishing her morning routine. The bathroom smelled of her lavender body wash and the faint aroma of the floral shampoo she had used. She looked at herself in the mirror, fully dolled up. Her makeup was meticulous: foundation blending seamlessly into her skin, a touch of blush on her cheeks, smoky eyeshadow making her blue eyes pop, and her lips painted a deep red. She wore a matching lace lingerie set underneath her clothes, the bra enhancing her cleavage, and the thong sitting comfortably on her hips.

She chose her outfit with care: a form-fitting, dark burgundy dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, paired with a black leather belt that accentuated her waist. She added a pair of nude heels, elegant yet not too flashy. Her long, wavy hair cascaded down her back, framing her face perfectly. It all felt right. Anything less feminine felt wrong, almost bizarre.

Sitting on her bed, Jazmine scrolled through her old Instagram account, the one that belonged to Jackson Steele. She looked at the photos, each one a snapshot of her past life. There were pictures of her with friends, traveling, and just living life as a man. It felt like a different world, one she couldn’t quite reach anymore. The person in those photos seemed like a stranger.

Clea walked in, her eyes immediately finding Jazmine on the bed. “Hey,” she said softly, sitting down beside her. “How are you holding up?”

Jazmine shrugged, not looking up from her phone. “I’m here.”

Clea placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “I know it’s been tough. But you’re strong, Jazmine. You’re doing great.”

Jazmine let out a hollow laugh. “Am I? Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Clea’s expression softened. “I know it’s hard to see it now, but you’re making progress. Look at you—look at what you’ve achieved.”

Jazmine sighed, her thumb absentmindedly scrolling through old photos. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it. If I’m worth it.”

Clea’s eyes flashed with determination. “Of course you are. You’ve come so far. Don’t let one bad experience define you.”

Jazmine looked up, her eyes meeting Clea’s. “It’s not just one bad experience, Clea. It’s everything. This... this life, this identity. I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Clea stroked her hair gently. “You’re Jazmine Jade. You’re beautiful, talented, and destined for great things. Don’t doubt that.”

Jazmine shook her head. “But what about Jackson Steele? What happened to him?”

Clea’s smile was oddly serene. “Jackson who? You've always been Jazmine Jade, the amazing woman sitting right here.”

Jazmine frowned, feeling a strange disconnect. “But Jackson was—”

Clea interrupted, her tone firm but kind. “Jazmine, you’ve always been Jazmine Jade. Focus on that. Remember, you’re doing this for both of us.”

Jazmine bit her lip, trying to absorb Clea’s words. She wanted to believe them, wanted to feel the confidence Clea had in her. But the doubts and guilt were still there, lurking in the back of her mind.

“Just... give it time,” Clea continued. “You’ll see. Everything will fall into place.”

Jazmine nodded slowly. “I hope so.”

As Clea stood up, she reached out to Jazmine, her hand extended with a hopeful smile. "Come on, Jazmine. Let's get some fresh air. It'll clear your head."

Jazmine hesitated, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions. She took Clea's hand reluctantly, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. As they walked out of the room, Jazmine glanced back at the photos on her phone, a mixture of nostalgia and sadness washing over her. She didn't know how to reconcile her past with her present, and it weighed heavily on her heart.

Once outside, the cool breeze did little to ease the turmoil in Jazmine's mind. Clea sensed her resistance and frustration, and her demeanor shifted from comforting to impatient.

"Jazmine, look at me," Clea said firmly, stopping in her tracks. "I get it. This isn't easy for you. But you have to snap out of it. You're Jazmine Jade now, not whoever you were before. That person doesn't exist anymore."

Jazmine frowned, feeling a surge of defiance. "But—"

Clea cut her off, her voice tinged with agitation. "No 'buts,' Jazmine. Do you understand what's at stake here? Your career, our plan—it all hinges on you being Jazmine Jade. You can't afford to dwell on the past or let doubt creep in. You have to embody this role, fully and completely."

Jazmine's eyes widened at Clea's intensity. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a familiar sense of being cornered creeping in. "I'm trying, Clea. I really am."

Clea shook her head, her patience wearing thin. "Trying isn't good enough, Jazmine. You have to do it. You have to be her. This isn't just about you anymore. It's about everything we've worked for, everything we've sacrificed."

Jazmine swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Clea's words pressing down on her. She knew Clea was right, but it hurt to hear it laid out so harshly. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, frustration and self-doubt bubbling to the surface.

"You're fucking everything up with this attitude," Clea continued, her voice rising. "Do you want to go back to who you were? C-list actor like Jared? Is that what you really want?"

Jazmine recoiled at the barrage of insults and ****. She felt small, insignificant under Clea's scrutiny. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Clea stepped closer, her face inches from Jazmine's. "Then stop acting like it. You're Jazmine Jade, goddammit. Act like it. Own it. Or else..."

Jazmine flinched, her heart racing with fear and shame. She felt trapped, suffocated by the expectations placed on her. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision as she struggled to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

Clea's expression softened slightly, a hint of regret flickering in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Jazmine. But you have to understand. We can't afford any slip-ups. Not now, not ever."

Jazmine nodded numbly, her throat tight with unspoken words. She turned away, unable to meet Clea's gaze any longer. The weight of her new identity bore down on her, heavier than ever before.

As they walked in silence, Jazmine felt the cold grip of reality tightening around her. She was Jazmine Jade, whether she liked it or not.

And if she wanted to survive in this cutthroat world, she had to bury Jackson Steele deep within herself until Jazmine Jade could take his place, no matter the cost.

The next few days passed in a blur for Jazmine, but slowly, she felt a slight uptick in her mood and mental state. Some of her doubts and emotional struggles were starting to reconcile, but the niggling concerns still lingered. Clea’s harsh words from the other day echoed in her mind, forcing her to confront the harsh reality of her situation. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. She had to be Jazmine Jade, for better or worse.

One day, Clea took her to Dr. Fields’ office for some routine cosmetic touch-ups. Lip filler and Botox were on the agenda, a process that had become almost mundane for Jazmine. The day passed quickly, but the interactions with Dr. Fields stayed with her.

Dr. Fields was always kind, always encouraging. “You’re doing great, Jazmine. The changes are subtle but make such a difference. You’re becoming more and more yourself every day.”

Jazmine nodded, her mind spinning. She wasn’t becoming more herself. She was becoming someone else entirely. Yet, somehow, that someone else was starting to feel like the real her. “Thanks, Dr. Fields. I appreciate it.”

Dr. Fields smiled warmly. “Just remember, the transgender journey is all about becoming who you truly are. It’s about embracing every part of yourself, even the parts you think you should hide.”

Jazmine **** a smile, but inside, she felt a pang of guilt. She wasn’t transgender. She was just pretending to be Jazmine Jade.

In between it all, Jazmine had been distant to Kyle. She barely replied to his texts and avoided making any plans. She couldn't face him, not with the weight of everything bearing down on her.

"hey Jaz, how are you doing? missing you sexy."

"fine. busy with work."

"let’s meet up soon? i miss hanging out with you."

"can't. maybe next week."

Kyle’s texts were becoming more frequent, and each one made her feel a pang of guilt. She knew she was pushing him away, but she didn’t know how to let him in when she barely understood herself anymore.

Now, it was the evening, and Jazmine was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She was dressed in a lacey black nightie and matching panties under it, her makeup flawlessly applied. Her foundation was smooth, with a hint of blush on her cheeks. Her eyes were done up with a smoky look, her lashes long and thick. Even though she was just at home, it felt right to look this way. Anything less felt wrong, like she was betraying who she was supposed to be.

As she lay there, the same thoughts racing over and over, she once again wondered how she had gotten to this point. How had she gone from Jackson Steele, a man who would love to get in a girl's pants, to Jazmine Jade, who sucked and fucked her way to the top? The FemmePro made it easier, but it didn’t change the fact that she was the one doing these things. The reality of her situation weighed heavily on her, a constant reminder of the sacrifices she had made.

Clea hadn’t checked in on her all day, and for that, Jazmine was grateful. She wasn’t ready to face another lecture, another harsh dose of reality. She just wanted to escape, even if only for a little while.

In her room, Clea paced back and forth, thinking about everything that had happened with Jazmine. She knew Jazmine was struggling, but she also knew how important it was for her to stay focused. They had come too far to let things fall apart now. Clea’s resolve was strong, but she couldn’t ignore the nagging worry that Jazmine might crack under the pressure.

Clea thought back to her own past, to the choices she had made and the sacrifices that had led her here. She knew better than anyone how ruthless this industry could be. She had fought tooth and nail to get to where she was, and she wasn’t about to let Jazmine throw it all away.

With a sigh, Clea decided to check on Jazmine. She walked into Jazmine’s room, finding her lying on the bed, lost in thought. “Hey, Jazmine. How are you feeling?”

Jazmine didn’t look up, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I’m fine, Clea.”

Clea frowned, sensing the distance in Jazmine’s voice. “You don’t look fine. Talk to me.”

Jazmine sighed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on her. “I’m just… tired, Clea. Tired of all of this.”

Clea sat down on the edge of the bed, her expression softening. “I know it’s hard, Jazmine. But you have to keep going. We’ve come too far to turn back now.”

Jazmine closed her eyes, feeling tears prick at the corners. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

Clea reached out, taking Jazmine’s hand in hers. “You can, and you will. You’re stronger than you think. Remember why we’re doing this. Remember what’s at stake.”

Jazmine nodded, trying to hold back the tears. “I just… I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Clea’s grip tightened, a steely determination in her eyes. “You’re Jazmine Jade. You’ve always been Jazmine Jade. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Jazmine felt a chill run down her spine at Clea’s words. She wanted to believe them, but it was getting harder and harder to keep the pieces of her life together. She nodded, more to reassure Clea than herself.

Clea stood up, her resolve unwavering. Jazmine watched her leave, feeling a mix of gratitude and despair. She was grateful for Clea’s support, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was losing herself in the process. As she lay back down, she stared at the ceiling, her mind racing with thoughts of who she was and who she was supposed to be.

Clea walked out of Jazmine’s room, her mind racing with frustration. What the hell was wrong with Jazmine? She had been making so much progress, slowly but surely, but now it felt like she was going backward. Clea couldn’t afford for her to falter now, not when they were so close to reaching their goals.

Jazmine’s current state was baffling. If she was really regressing, why did she still dress like that and do her makeup so perfectly? The lacey nightie, the flawless foundation, the sultry eyeshadow—it didn’t add up. If she was truly slipping, wouldn’t she stop all that too? Clea’s head spun with anger and confusion.

"Fuck," she muttered under her breath, clenching her fists. "Why can’t she just get it together?"

The incident with Jared flashed through her mind, making her blood boil. Jazmine had embarrassed him on set, fucked him, and now this? It was like she was sabotaging everything they had worked for. Clea couldn’t let that happen. She had invested too much time, energy, and manipulation into this.

As she paced back and forth, an idea began to form. Maybe Jazmine needed a push, a way to snap her out of this funk. And what better way to do that than by throwing her into the deep end? Clea smirked to herself, her mind whirring with possibilities.

Kyle. That hunk might be exactly what Jazmine needed. Some time with him, maybe even some sex, could be just the thing to get her back on track. It was risky, but Clea was willing to take that chance. She needed Jazmine to remember who she was supposed to be, to embrace it fully.

Grabbing her phone, Clea dialed Kyle’s number, her mind already plotting how to get him over here without raising Jazmine’s suspicions. When he picked up, she slipped into her most charming tone. "Hey, Kyle. It’s Clea. How have you been?"

"Hey, Clea. I’m chillin'. What up?" Kyle’s voice was warm and friendly, completely unaware of the scheme unfolding.

"I was just thinking about Jazmine. She’s been really stressed lately, and I think she could use her boyfriend. Would you mind coming over tonight?" Clea’s tone was casual, but there was a hint of something more, something that suggested this was more than just a friendly visit.

"Yeah, that'd be fucking awesome, man. What time?" Kyle sounded eager, and Clea felt a thrill of satisfaction.

"Soon as you can. I think she’ll really appreciate it." Clea smiled, already imagining the scene that would unfold.

"Sure thing. I’ll be there." Kyle hung up, and Clea put her phone away, feeling a sense of triumph.

As she walked back to her room, Clea’s mind buzzed with anticipation. She pictured Jazmine with Kyle, the way his presence might shift her mindset. Maybe some time with him would remind her of the power she held, the allure she had cultivated so carefully.

Clea imagined the scene vividly: Kyle arriving, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Jazmine. Jazmine, trying to resist but slowly melting under his touch. The way Kyle would kiss her, gentle at first, then more demanding.

Jazmine’s moans, gasps, and whimpers as Kyle took her, the way she would start to believe again in her own desirability, her own power. Clea’s lips curled into a sinister sneer. This would work. It had to. She couldn’t afford for it not to.

She thought about the aftermath, how Jazmine would look at herself in the mirror and see a powerful, desirable woman. How she would remember that being Jazmine Jade wasn’t a curse but a means to an end, a path to success and control.

Clea’s heart raced with the thrill of it all. She couldn’t wait to see how it would unfold, how it would bring Jazmine back to the mindset she needed to be in.

Jazmine would see that she had **** but to embrace who she had become. And if it took a night with Kyle to make that happen, so be it. Clea was willing to do whatever it took to achieve their goals.

With a final, satisfied sigh, Clea closed her eyes, her thoughts filled with the images of what was to come. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she was ready. Jazmine would be who she needed to be, or she would break trying.

There was no other option.