March 18, 2022 - Spotlight (Patreon)

One thing that I learned after coming to LA to be a star in Hollywood was you’ve got to be willing to do anything. And I mean, ANYTHING. I had spent the last dollars on my stay at the hotel and I had barely got to the gate. Then I was approached by an old man willing to help me get in. His name was Papa Richard. Everyone called him Papa because he was the godfather of almost all the newcomers. He had the connections and trust of producers, something priceless that money can’t buy.

He took me to his office and made me sign some papers. I didn’t heed to the tiny letters since I needed to seize the opportunity and get a role. Any role. “Aren’t you the eager one?! You all are!” He laughed. And I chuckled a bit.

“Congratulations, Ben! You’ve got the lead role in a thriller movie A Friday!” I still remember that evening when he announced me my breakthrough into Hollywood. We celebrated that night with a delicious bottle of champagne and stories of those who made it big in the screens, thanks to him.

Things went great until the day of release. The director was caught in a sex scandal and everyone boycotted the movie. The movie was a disastrous flop. Even if I didn’t get the hate directly, my reputation tarnished because of it. The second movie didn’t do as well. By the time I was on my third, I had already given up hope. That’s when the production company approached me with the signed papers. According to clause 36 B, the company had sole right over my body and could do any modifications in order to keep me relevant in the industry.

I was an asset of the company that they had invested in, and they wanted to make me profitable. I agreed to go with them, because I wanted to stay in the spotlight. They took me to a lab dug two floors beneath the company. Papa Richard was there along with other men in white coats. “Everything will be alright,” he said. I nodded and followed the instructions of the doctor standing beside me. They punctured my wrists with three long surgical tubes attached to a bag filled with some white liquid. Glass walls arose and locked me in what seemed like a chamber. Water poured in from the corners near my feet, filling the container fast. I took a deep breath and braced myself.

One of the doctors raised a thumbs up, and I felt a sting in my body. The white substance ran through my veins and I could feel the heat travelling to my heart. It thumped like I had been running for the last half an hour. My body convulsed, trying to break loose of the straps attached all over my hands, chest, and legs. They knew. I screamed, releasing the air caught in my lungs. I saw my dark hair floating around my face. It was longer. I looked down and saw my pants stretching further along with my hips. My bare chest struggled to free itself from the strap holding onto it as fat gushed into them, bulging out from the top and the bottom. I choked on the water, until I lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I was the same person, but in a different body. A female one. The company had decided to make me an actress, a voluptuous femme fatale who would make the audience swoon with lust. It was easy money they wanted to make without taking further risks with me. I had no choice now. There was no turning back from this expensive and illegal treatment they conducted on me. I took my chances and took the classes they gave me to learn how to be the lady they wanted me to be. I learned how to sit and stand in tight clothes, walk in heels, body language, voice training, and so much more. It took me almost a year, and they added all the expenses they made to my “debt” to the company.

I nailed the role I got. The audience loved my swaying hips, bulging breasts, and the winks and the flying kisses as I destroyed men’s lives on the big screen. I got three more offers with similar roles and I cashed in on it as well. I had to maintain a living standard to woo the paparazzi and hence the audience, giving them a peek of my promiscuous lifestyle. Lavish clothes, jewels, and pool parties with orgies, I barely made a dent by the end of my second year as a woman. I could have my body back, but only after I paid my debt. But I was not so sure if I wanted to go back. I was living the best of my life, and the sex was so much better!

I enjoyed the attention, being in the spotlight of my audience. I remember I was not in the feeds one day, so I snapped a naked selfie in the shower and leaked it online. It was fun. Another time, I did a nude photoshoot to give my lovers a gift on Valentine’s Day, not to mention the viral sex tapes every year.

It’s been ten years now. I paid off my debt two years ago. My audience calls me, “Veronica” and I prefer it stayed that way.

(The End)