A Useless Star—But a Talented Toy (1/3)

Ethan had always known he was meant to be a star.

He had the look (more or less), the charisma (or at least, he figured he could develop it), and most importantly—the drive. All he needed was a little coaching. A little polish. Something to help him stand out.

So he’d sent out tons of portfolios. Sure, maybe they had a little bit of AI enhancement, but who wasn’t doing that these days? He just needed to get his foot in the door, and once he did, he’d prove he had what it took.

That’s why, when Eclipse Entertainment got back to him with a contract, he didn’t waste a second signing it. They saw potential in him. Believed in him.

And after his first week of coaching, Ethan felt the progress.

His movements were looser, his expressions more controlled, and he was starting to carry himself with more confidence. The trainers watched without much comment, occasionally nodding or jotting something down, which only reinforced that he was on the right track. Eclipse had seen potential in him, and now he was proving them right.

What Ethan didn’t know was that behind closed doors, David—the head of talent—was seething.

The idiot recruiter who signed Ethan had made a massive mistake. No amount of coaching would ever turn this guy into a star. He was stiff, awkward, hopeless. And thanks to the contract, they couldn’t just drop him.

But they could make him quit.

And David had just the idea.

The next day, Ethan arrived expecting another routine lesson, but instead, he was led to a different room. Inside, a team of unfamiliar people waited for him, their stations lined with bottles, brushes, and tools he didn’t recognize. Before he could ask what was going on, someone took his arm and smoothed something warm onto his skin. Then—rip.

He flinched, jerking slightly, but before he could react, another strip was pressed to his leg.

“This will help with your image,” one of them said simply, already working on his other side. “Smoother lines, better presentation.”

Ethan exhaled sharply but nodded. He didn’t completely understand, but Eclipse knew what they were doing. By the time they were done, his skin was bare, tingling from the scented lotions they rubbed in afterward. It felt strange—almost exposed—but he barely had time to dwell on it before something red and silky was placed in his hands.

“Put this on.”

He blinked down at it. A dress. A small dress. His fingers curled around the fabric as a creeping unease settled in.

“This is part of the training, right?” he asked hesitantly.

“It’s about learning to stay composed no matter what you’re wearing,” someone answered, already holding the dress open for him. “A real star never lets discomfort show.”

It didn’t make much sense, but they were professionals. Slowly, he stepped into it, pulling the straps over his shoulders as they adjusted the fabric around him. The material clung, making him stand straighter, his arms resting awkwardly at his sides as he adjusted to the unfamiliar tightness.

Then came the heels. Someone knelt in front of him, slipping them onto his feet and buckling the straps securely before he had a chance to object.

“These will improve your balance,” they told him, patting his ankle. “Strengthen your core, refine your stance.”

Ethan wobbled the second he stood, his body instinctively shifting to compensate for the unnatural angle. A firm hand steadied his back, but no one gave him time to adjust.

“Stay still.”

A brush swept across his cheek, and before he could process it, they were layering on foundation, contour, blush—each stroke blending away more of his features. His lashes were curled and darkened, his lips painted full and glossy. His hair, barely something he thought about before, was brushed, shaped, styled until it framed his face just right.

When they finally stepped back, he turned to the mirror. His stomach dropped.

The person staring back at him wasn’t Ethan. She had his eyes, but they were framed by soft waves of hair. Her lips were full, glossy, parted slightly in stunned silence. The red dress hugged her body in ways that felt wrong, the exposed skin of her legs smooth and bare. Even the way she stood—heels forcing a delicate stance—felt foreign.

Ethan swallowed hard. His ears burned.

This wasn’t what he expected. Not at all. But if this was what it took—if this was what would make him a star—then he’d see it through.