Consequences

Clea sat in her room, her eyes glued to her laptop screen as she scrolled through the latest Hollywood gossip. She smirked at some of the headlines, the usual mix of scandals and celebrity feuds that kept the tabloids in business. She hoped that behind closed doors, Jazmine and Kyle were finally getting it on. It was about time Jazmine got over her mental slump, and she hoped this was going to be what pushes her back into her role. She had been berating Jazmine in her head for days now, frustrated with her recent struggle to embrace her identity.

Her door was open, and the silence of the evening was broken by faint noises from across the hall. Clea’s ears perked up as she heard the unmistakable sound of slurping. She smiled to herself, imagining Jazmine on her knees, doing what she was supposed to do. Good girl, she thought. Finally, everything is going according to plan.

Clea smirked, imagining the scene unfolding behind closed doors. That girl better be giving him the best head of his life, she mused.

But then, a while later, the mood shifted. Clea's smirk faded when she heard Jazmine's voice, loud and angry. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Jazmine yelled, her voice carrying through the hall. Clea's heart skipped a beat, shock and surprise washing over her. What the hell was going on in there?

More yelling followed, though Clea couldn't make out the exact words. Then, clear as day, she heard Jazmine scream, "I'm not some fucking sex doll you can just use whenever you want!" There was a pause, and then the unmistakable sound of a door opening. Panic set in as Clea wondered what had gone wrong. She jumped up from her bed and hurried across the hall, her heart racing.

As she reached the hallway, she saw Kyle already halfway down the stairs, his face a mix of embarrassment and frustration. He didn't even glance back as he hurriedly made his exit. Clea bolted into Jazmine's room, her anger bubbling to the surface.

Jazmine was on her knees by the bed, her black nightie askew. Spit covered her mouth and chin, and her hand was a sticky mess of cum and saliva. Tears streamed down her face, painting a picture of absolute defeat.

"What the fuck happened?" Clea demanded, her voice sharp and angry.

Jazmine struggled to get the words out, her voice trembling. "I... I was just trying to finish him off, and he kept asking for sex..."

Clea's face twisted in fury. "Are you fucking serious, Jazmine? You yelled at him? Do you have any idea how big of a fuck up this is?"

Jazmine's tears flowed freely now, but Clea was relentless. "Do you even understand the consequences of what you've just done? Kyle might leave you now. The paparazzi will get wind of this, and they'll eat you alive. They'll talk about you like you're nothing. And then you'll be forgotten. Gone. Forever."

Clea stepped closer, her voice lowering to a menacing growl. "These fucking masculine thoughts, these stupid ideas of being Jackson— they need to disappear now. There's no turning back until the plan succeeds. You need to obey me, Jazmine. You don't have the connections or the money to undo everything we've done to your body."

Clea's voice was filled with venom. "You need to be a diva! Enjoy the attention from men, enjoy being treated by them, and treat them like they're fucking lucky to have you! Get it through your thick skull that this is your life now."

Jazmine whimpered, each word from Clea cutting deep. "I'm sorry-"

"Sorry isn't good enough!" Clea shouted, her face red with rage. "You need to fix this. You need to fucking own this. Do you understand me?"

Jazmine nodded, her body shaking. "Yes, Clea..."

Clea's voice dropped to a cold, cutting whisper. "You better. Because if you don't, you're done. Completely and utterly done."

With that, Clea stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Jazmine collapsed on the floor, her body wracked with sobs. She felt utterly defeated, her spirit crushed under the weight of Clea's words.

As the minutes stretched on, Jazmine lay there, tears mingling with the spit and cum on her face. Her mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions, the weight of her identity crisis pressing down on her like never before.

Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just be who I'm supposed to be?

Clea stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. She paced back and forth, her mind racing. Jazmine had just made such a monumental fuck-up. How the hell are we going to recover from this? She had to think of a contingency plan, something to smooth this over with Kyle and keep their plan on track.

She grabbed her phone and dialed Kyle's number, her fingers tapping impatiently against her thigh as she waited for him to pick up. Finally, he answered.

"Hey, Clea, what's up?" Kyle's voice was casual, but Clea could sense the underlying tension.

"Kyle, I'm so sorry about what happened," Clea began, her voice laced with sincerity. "Jazmine's been struggling with some... mental health issues lately. She's really not herself."

"Yeah, no shit," Kyle muttered, clearly annoyed.

"Look, I know she messed up, but she's been under a lot of pressure. She really likes you, Kyle. This isn't about you, it's about her dealing with some deep-seated issues. Give her a week or two to recover. I promise, she'll make it up to you."

Kyle sighed on the other end. "I dunno, Clea. That was some serious bullshit. I mean, who yells like that when you're trying to get it on?"

Clea took a deep breath, pushing down her frustration. "I understand, Kyle. But she's really trying to work through this. She's seeing a therapist, she's taking medication. She's committed to getting better. Just... please, give her another chance."

"Alright, alright. I'll give her a bit of time. But she better be, like, normal, Clea." Kyle said, his tone a mix of annoyance and **** agreement.

"Thank you, Kyle. I promise, she will," Clea assured him, trying to keep her voice steady.

After hanging up, Clea's anger flared up again. That stupid bitch! How could she fuck this up so badly? She needed to discipline Jazmine in a way that would be both constructive to her mentality as Jazmine Jade and another barrier to her going back to Jackson. She sat on her bed, her mind racing with possibilities.

Making her fuck a bunch of dudes anonymously? No, too risky and too demeaning. And she might actually become a slut instead, based on her recent escapades. She thought through a couple of other ideas, each more borderline than the last.

She thought about cutting off Jazmine’s access to social media. No, that wouldn’t be enough. She’d just find another way to mess things up.

Then, she considered forcing Jazmine to attend more public events, pushing her into the spotlight. Too risky, she thought. She’s too unstable right now. One wrong move and she could blow everything.

Finally, she settled on a devious plan. Dr. Fields.

Clea grabbed her phone again and texted Dr. Fields: "Clear your schedule for a day this week. Jazmine's coming in for something VERY important."

She smirked, knowing this would be the perfect way to both discipline and reinforce Jazmine's new identity. She needed to be broken down and rebuilt into the perfect Jazmine Jade. And if that meant taking **** measures, so be it.

---

Jazmine lay in bed, her room bathed in the dull gray light of morning. She stared blankly at the ceiling, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest. Clea’s harsh words echoed in her mind, relentless and unforgiving. You fucked up. Big time. You have to get rid of these ‘masculine’ thoughts.

Tears welled up in Jazmine’s eyes as she relived the humiliating events of yesterday. She had lost control, berated Kyle, and Clea had berated her. Clea's speech was a reality check, one that felt necessary and justified, given that Jazmine now felt that she was horrifically underperforming.

I’m such an idiot, she thought bitterly. I’m not good enough. I can’t do this. But I have to do it, and do it better.

Every attempt to resist the identity of Jazmine seemed futile now. Her spirit was crushed, her resolve shattered. She believed Clea’s words—she was a failure, a disappointment. And now, she had to face the consequences.

A knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts. “Jazmine, get your ass out of bed,” Clea’s voice came through the door. “We’ve got places to be.”

Jazmine sighed heavily, wiping away her tears. She dragged herself out of bed, her movements slow and listless, as she went through the motions of getting ready.

Her closet seemed like a daunting challenge now, every outfit a reminder of her inadequacy. She settled on a simple black dress, something modest and unremarkable, the antithesis of her usual bold and glamorous style.

As she dressed, she avoided looking at herself in the mirror. Makeup felt like a chore today, a mask she didn’t have the energy to apply. She settled for minimal effort—a touch of foundation to hide the redness around her eyes, a quick swipe of mascara to make her lashes appear less sparse.

With a deep breath, Jazmine **** herself to leave her room. Clea was waiting in the hallway, her expression unreadable. “Let’s go,” she said curtly, leading the way downstairs.

Jazmine followed silently, her thoughts a jumble of self-recrimination and resignation. She couldn’t bear to think about what lay ahead today. All she could do was endure, hoping that somehow, she would find a way to salvage what was left of herself, and become who she needed to be.

As they stepped outside into the bright morning sunlight, Jazmine shielded her eyes against its harsh glare. She felt exposed, ****, as if the world could see right through her façade. But she knew she had **** but to keep moving forward, even if it felt like she was walking through a minefield of her own making.

Jazmine sat in the passenger seat of Clea’s car, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery. She was lost in her thoughts, her heart heavy with regret and uncertainty. The road ahead seemed endless, and Jazmine could only wonder how much more she could endure before she broke completely.

Jazmine’s thoughts swirled in a dark, oppressive haze as Clea drove. She was utterly defeated, a heavy cloak of despair wrapping around her. I messed everything up, she thought. I’m not good enough. It’s all my fault. Clea’s vicious words echoed in her mind, each one a sharp dagger that pierced her resolve.

Clea glanced over at her, eyes hard. “You really fucked up, Jazmine. Do you realize how close you are to ruining everything? You’re going to fix this, and you’re going to start by listening to me.”

Jazmine nodded numbly, her spirit crushed. She couldn’t fight Clea. Not now. Not when she was so completely broken.

They arrived at Dr. Fields' office, and Clea pulled into a parking spot. She turned to Jazmine, her expression cold and unforgiving. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re getting a mild liposuction surgery around your hips, trunk, and abdomen. It’ll feminize your curves and enhance your hourglass shape. You’ve done alright with your diet and exercise, but you need a boost. Consider this your punishment for fucking up so badly.”

Jazmine’s heart sank further. The thought of more surgery, more changes to her body, made her feel sick. But she knew better than to argue.

Clea continued, her voice dripping with disdain. “This can be reversed later, like I promised. We can do liposuction the other way. But don’t think for a second I couldn’t have done something worse. I could’ve made you get facial feminization surgery, a BBL, voice feminization surgery. Hell, I could’ve had your cock and balls changed into a real pussy.”

Jazmine’s stomach churned at the thought. Clea’s threats hung in the air, a reminder of how powerless she was.

Clea’s voice softened, but her words remained cutting. “You’ve got an uphill battle to get back to where you were with Kyle. You’re going to have to work even harder now. Be the extra lovey-dovey girlfriend and a slut in the bedroom. Do you understand?”

Jazmine nodded, her throat tight with suppressed emotion. “Yes, Clea,” she whispered.

“Good. Now let’s go.” Clea’s tone left no room for argument.

They entered Dr. Fields’ office, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling Jazmine’s nostrils. Dr. Fields was already prepped and ready, her expression professional but with a hint of sympathy in her eyes.

“Jazmine, I understand we’re doing a mild liposuction today,” Dr. Fields began, her tone gentle.

“Yes,” Jazmine replied, her voice flat.

Dr. Fields gave a rundown of the procedure, explaining the details and recovery time. But Jazmine barely listened, her mind a storm of self-loathing and resignation. She knew she wouldn’t say no. She couldn’t.

“Alright, I just need you to sign here,” Dr. Fields said, handing her a consent form.

Jazmine took the pen with trembling hands and signed her name. It felt like signing away another piece of her soul.

Dr. Fields nodded. “We’ll get you prepped for surgery now.”

Jazmine changed into a surgical gown, her movements robotic. As she lay on the operating table, the bright lights above her made her feel even more exposed and ****.

Clea leaned over her, her expression stern. “Remember why you’re doing this, Jazmine. You need to fix yourself and be better, and this is going to help. Understand?”

“Yes, Clea,” Jazmine whispered, her voice barely audible.

Clea straightened up, satisfied. “Good.”

The anesthesiologist placed a mask over Jazmine’s face. “Just breathe deeply,” he instructed.

Jazmine’s heart raced as the sedative took effect, her consciousness slipping away. Her last thoughts were of Clea’s harsh words, a constant reminder of her failure and the monumental task ahead of her to make things right.

---

The hospital room was dimly lit, the soft hum of machines the only sound aside from the hushed voices of Clea and Dr. Fields. Jazmine lay **** on the bed, a blanket draped over her slender form. Clea, seated beside her, leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial as she recounted the recent events with an air of exasperation and disdain.

“So first, she has this run-in with Jared, which she completely botched. The guy’s furious because she embarrassed him on set, and ended up fucking the guy. Then, she’s in this emotional slump because of it, and I thought Kyle would be able to snap her out of it. But no, she had to go and mess that up too,” Clea said, her tone dripping with frustration.

Dr. Fields nodded, her expression thoughtful. “She does seem to have a knack for making things difficult for herself, doesn’t she?”

Clea sighed, rubbing her temples. “You have no idea. I set everything up perfectly, and she’s just... falling apart. She was giving Kyle the best blowjob, doing everything right, and he just really wanted to fuck. She lost it. Yelled at him, berated him, and now he’s pissed. I had to do serious damage control.”

Dr. Fields pursed her lips. “Sounds like she’s struggling to fully embrace her new identity. It’s not unusual for there to be resistance, especially when the changes to her life are so drastic.”

Clea’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t afford resistance, Serena. She needs to be Jazmine Jade, through and through. Jackson Steele has to disappear completely. I need her mind and body completely rewired.”

Dr. Fields nodded slowly. “We need to break down any remaining barriers. There are a few methods we can explore. Have you considered more intensive psychological conditioning? Hypnotherapy, perhaps?”

Clea tilted her head, considering it. “Hypnotherapy could work, but we need something more... immersive. Something that will leave no room for doubt or resistance.”

Dr. Fields’ eyes lit up. “We could use a combination of sensory deprivation and brainwave entrainment. Prolonged exposure to specific sounds and visuals can reprogram her subconscious. We can create a loop of positive reinforcement for her feminine identity and negative reinforcement for any remnants of her old self.”

Clea’s interest was piqued. “Explain how that would work in practice.”

“Well, we would need a controlled environment,” Dr. Fields began. “We place her in a sensory deprivation tank for extended periods. During this time, we play audio recordings that reinforce her identity as Jazmine Jade. Phrases like ‘You are Jazmine, a beautiful, desirable woman’ and ‘Jackson no longer exists’ on a loop. We can also use visual stimuli through VR when she’s not in the tank, showing her images and videos that align with her new identity.”

Clea nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. “That’s brilliant. We could also use hormonal enhancers to accelerate her physical transformation. Make her body so undeniably feminine that she has **** but to accept it.”

Dr. Fields smirked. “Absolutely. We could introduce a new regimen of estrogen and anti-androgens, coupled with localized injections to enhance her breasts and hips further. We should also consider neuro-linguistic programming techniques. Subliminal messages embedded in her everyday environment to reinforce her new identity.”

Clea’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “We can have her listen to audio recordings while she sleeps, and even have certain phrases triggered by specific actions. Like every time she looks in a mirror, she’ll hear ‘You are Jazmine, you love being a woman’ in her head.”

Dr. Fields leaned forward. “We can take it even further. Associate pleasurable sensations with feminine behaviors and discomfort with anything masculine. Pavlovian conditioning, essentially. Every time she acts in a way that aligns with her new identity, she gets a reward—perhaps a rush of endorphins. And if she slips, she feels nausea or discomfort.”

Clea’s smile was almost sinister. “Yes, that would work. We need to make sure she’s fully committed to this transformation. She has to love being Jazmine, to crave the attention and validation from men. We could arrange for her to be in social situations where she’s constantly praised for her femininity and attractiveness.”

Dr. Fields nodded. “Positive reinforcement is key. We can also introduce an element of competition. Surround her with other women who embody what she’s striving to become. Make her feel the need to outdo them, to be the best version of Jazmine Jade.”

Clea’s smile was cold and calculating. “Perfect. This will be an intensive process, but in the end, she’ll be exactly who we need her to be. No more slip-ups, no more resistance.”

Dr. Fields glanced at Jazmine, still **** on the bed. “We start immediately. The sooner we begin, the quicker she’ll adapt.”

Clea nodded, her mind already planning the next steps. “Let’s do this. Jazmine Jade will be reborn, and Jackson Steele will be nothing but a distant memory.”

Clea and Dr. Fields sat beside Jazmine’s bed, the room filled with a tense silence broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. Jazmine lay still, **** and oblivious to the sinister plans being concocted for her transformation. Clea, leaning forward, tapped her fingers impatiently on the armrest of her chair.

“Alright, Serena,” Clea said, her voice low and determined. “We need a solid, foolproof plan. No more mistakes. We have to ensure she’s fully and irrevocably Jazmine Jade.”

Dr. Fields nodded, taking out a notepad. “We’ll break this down step by step, covering every day of the next two weeks. Let’s start with the basics.”

“Day one,” Clea began, her eyes narrowing. “We need to set the foundation. We start with intensive sensory deprivation and brainwave entrainment.”

Dr. Fields jotted down notes. “First thing in the morning, we’ll put her in the sensory deprivation tank. She’ll stay in there for four hours, listening to the audio loop we discussed. Phrases like ‘You are Jazmine, a beautiful, desirable woman’ and ‘Jackson no longer exists’ will play continuously.”

“Perfect,” Clea said. “We’ll also have her wear VR goggles when she’s out of the tank. She’ll be bombarded with images and videos that reinforce her new identity.”

“In the afternoon, we’ll introduce the Pavlovian conditioning,” Dr. Fields continued. “We’ll have her perform feminine behaviors and reward her with endorphin rushes. Any slip-ups, and she’ll feel discomfort or nausea.”

Clea nodded, her mind racing. “We’ll also start her on the new hormonal regimen immediately. Increased doses of estrogen and anti-androgens.”

“Day two,” Dr. Fields said, turning the page of her notepad. “We continue the sensory deprivation and VR sessions. But we add hypnotherapy. We’ll induce a deep trance and reinforce her new identity further.”

“In the evenings,” Dr. Fields added, “she’ll listen to audio recordings while she sleeps. Subliminal messages will reinforce her new identity.”

“Day three,” Clea said, her voice growing more intense. “We introduce the neuro-linguistic programming techniques. Certain phrases will trigger specific thoughts. Like every time she looks in a mirror, she’ll hear ‘You are Jazmine, you love being a woman’ in her head.”

“Day four,” Clea continued, “we escalate the conditioning. Longer sessions in the sensory deprivation tank. More intense VR experiences. We need to make sure she’s fully immersed in her new identity.”

“Day five,” Clea said, her eyes gleaming with determination. “We start the physical enhancement procedures. More localized injections. Enhance her hourglass shape. Make her body undeniably feminine.”

Dr. Fields jotted down notes rapidly. “We’ll also introduce daily routines that reinforce her new identity. Feminine grooming routines. She can do her makeup, but we make her watch bolder, different, more feminine makeup tutorials. All designed to make her embrace her new self.”

“Day six,” Clea said, “we introduce the social element. Set up scenarios where she has to meet her fan girls. Make her crave the attention and validation.”

“Day seven,” Clea said, her voice unyielding. “We ramp up the psychological conditioning. More hypnotherapy. More NLP techniques. We need to ensure there’s no trace of Jackson Steele left.”

Clea leaned back, a satisfied smile on her face. “The second week, we repeat the process, but more intensively. Longer sessions, more physical enhancements, more psychological conditioning. By the end of these two weeks, she’ll be completely transformed.”

Dr. Fields looked up from her notes. “We’ll monitor her progress closely. Adjust the plan as needed. But the goal remains the same. Complete transformation, both in body and mind.”

Clea’s smile widened. “And if she resists?”

Dr. Fields’ eyes gleamed with a cold determination. “We increase the conditioning. More intense sessions. We break her down completely, if necessary. She’ll have **** but to become Jazmine Jade.”

Clea nodded, her mind already planning the next steps. “This will work. It has to. She’ll be exactly who we need her to be. No more slip-ups, no more resistance.”

Dr. Fields leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her face. “By the end of these two weeks, Jackson Steele will be nothing but a distant memory. Jazmine Jade will be reborn, and there’ll be no turning back.”

As they finalized their plan, the air in the room grew thick with the promise of transformation. The future of Jazmine Jade was being meticulously crafted, and there was no escape. The path was set, and there was no turning back.