Lost in the Spotlight (2/4)

The moment the song ended, Jack felt like he could finally breathe again. His legs ached from the unfamiliar height of the wedges, his back throbbed from the unnatural arch forced by the bodysuit, and his skin burned under the heat of the stage lights. He just wanted to get out. But before he could take a single step toward the crowd, thick hands gripped his arms, guiding him in the opposite direction—backstage.

Panic flared in his chest. “Wait, no, I—I need to go back—” His voice, sweet and airy even in distress, was ignored. The security guards didn’t slow, didn’t acknowledge his struggle, just ushered him down the dimly lit corridor with the kind of firm, unquestioning grip that made it clear he wasn’t getting away.

The dressing room was lavish, stocked with expensive liquor and plush furniture, but Jack barely noticed. His heart was racing, every instinct screaming at him to run, but before he could even attempt it, the door opened again. Trey Luv strolled in like he owned the place—because, in a way, he did. The energy in the room shifted instantly, his presence commanding, possessive, and far too focused on him.

"Damn, girl," Trey murmured, his gaze trailing over Jack’s trembling form like he was already his. "You're even hotter up close." His smirk deepened as he leaned in, his voice dropping to something low and possessive. "From now on, I’ll be taking care of you."

Jack swallowed hard, forcing himself to play along, to smile, to act as if this was just a misunderstanding he could talk his way out of. He giggled—a sickeningly sweet sound that made his stomach twist—and tilted his head. "Oh, that's sweet, but, um… I have a boyfriend?"

Trey just smirked. “Doesn’t matter. From now on, I’m your boyfriend.”

Jack’s breath hitched. His pulse pounded in his ears. This wasn’t a game anymore. This wasn’t just an embarrassing, humiliating night he’d have to suffer through. This was something else. His voice wavered, but he pushed forward, desperate now. “I—I’m not a woman.” His manicured hand made a small, frantic gesture downward, as if that would explain everything, would fix everything.

But Trey just laughed, his eyes raking over Jack’s trembling form with lazy amusement. “Sure don’t look like a man to me,” he said, his gaze lingering in a way that made Jack’s skin crawl. Then, as if sensing the panic rising in him, Trey’s smirk deepened. “Don’t worry, baby. When I’m done with you, you’ll be all woman.”

Jack barely had a second to process the words before security returned, gripping his arms once more. This time, their hold was tighter. He struggled, twisting in their grasp, but it didn’t matter. The door opened, the hallway blurred, and then—

Darkness.

When Jack woke up, the world felt wrong. His head throbbed, his mouth was dry, and nothing around him looked familiar. Soft, high-thread-count sheets. A vanity lined with expensive beauty products. Clothes hanging neatly in an open wardrobe—tight, revealing, feminine. But all of that faded away as he moved, his body feeling off, different.

He groggily reached up to rub his temple, only to freeze as something unfamiliar brushed against his skin. His nails—long, painted, a soft baby pink. His fingers trembled as he tugged at his hair, finding not the silky brunette strands Sarah had straightened for him, but blonde, thick and cascading past his shoulders in perfectly styled waves.

His breath came in short, panicked gasps as he shifted, and that was when he felt it—his chest. The sudden pressure against the soft mounds sent an unexpected jolt of pleasure through him, a sharp gasp spilling from his lips. His nipples ached, hypersensitive, pressed against the thin fabric of his tight, button-down top. His hands moved on their own, fumbling with the buttons, desperate for proof that this wasn’t real. But as he pulled the fabric apart, his stomach dropped.

Breasts. Real, full, soft breasts.

Jack whimpered, his delicate fingers grazing over the perky, sensitive peaks, eliciting another traitorous shiver of pleasure. But the horror only deepened as his hand drifted lower, lower—

And froze.

His thighs clenched together as pure panic ripped through him. Where there should have been something familiar, something his—there was only soft, slick emptiness.

His mouth opened to scream, but all that came out was a breathy, feminine whimper.

The door creaked open.

Trey strolled in, his smirk slow, satisfied. "There’s my girl."

Jack's breath caught, his stomach twisting as he tried to speak. "W-What did you do to me?!" The question came out in a soft, breathy whimper, and the sound of his own voice made him freeze. No. No, that wasn’t right.

Trey just chuckled, his eyes drinking in every inch of Jack’s transformed body. "I told you I’d make you my woman." He stepped closer, towering over Jack, his presence suffocating. "And damn… did you turn out hot."

Jack shrank back instinctively, but Trey just reached down, tilting his chin up with a firm grip. "Better get used to it, baby. From now on, you’re mine—and it’s time you start acting like it."