Three days later, her preparations complete, Angela invited Carl Howard to her offices for a sales pitch.
He entered the office suite, and Angela surreptitiously inspected him via the closed-circuit TV system. He was tall and slender, with a decided feminine cast to his features. He carried himself with authority, though. "That'll change," Angela thought to herself.
"Welcome to Venus Force Advertising," said a voice from Carl's left, and he turned to see a vision in '50s femininity seated on a stool by the reception desk. "I'm Stephanie, Angela's personal assistant and secretary. She'll be out shortly."
Stephanie was dressed in an outfit that would have made June Cleaver proud--a blue-striped shirtwaist dress that fell to her knees over massive amounts of frilly petticoats, so that the skirt seemed to float over her thighs. It was tightly belted, emphasizing her girlish waist, and her attractive legs were perched on white pumps with four-inch heels. Her hair was pinned up into a simple twist in the back. Like all Stephanie's outfits, this dress imposed a specific personality upon her hypnotically controlled psyche: In this, she was the mother hen, fluttering around her "chicks".
"He already has a little girl fetish," Angela explained as she laid out the clothes for Stephanie that morning. "A mothering touch should get him just a little aroused and all set for my treatment."
Accordingly, Stephanie fluttered around her charge, bringing him coffee as he waited for Angela to arrive, adjusting his chair, brushing his cheek with her hand, cooing her appreciation of his bringing business to the firm. As Angela suspected, all this attention had the desired effect, as Carl surreptitiously hid a bulging crotch by moving his briefcase to his lap.
But the bulge didn't go unnoticed by the watching ad executive. She chose that moment to appear.
"Mr. Howard--Carl--how good to see you!" she purred, as she posed in the doorway of the reception area, clad...as usual...in a leather business suit. She motioned for him to join her in her office.
"We've set up our presentation in Powerpoint," she said as she pointed him to the chair by her computer screen. Leaning over his shoulder, letting the soft leather of her sleeve brush against his cheek, she touched the button that would begin the computerized session.
The earliest part of the session seemed a quite normal presentation of an ad campaign for the Howard company's product line. But buried within it was a subliminal program that gradually drew the unsuspecting CEO into a light hypnotic trance. Once that trance was firmly established, the program switched into full hypnotic mode, deepening the trance until Carl was unable to resist.
And then the screen displayed that photo of "little girl" Carl. "Who is that?" asked Angela.
"That's Coral," he answered.
"And who is Coral?" she asked again.
"I'm Coral," he replied.
"Yes, you are," Angela assured him. "You are Coral...deep inside you, Coral is who you really are. Carl is a sham, a facade. The real you is the feminine, beautiful Coral."
"Coral isn't real," Carl tried to protest. "Coral is just the name I use when I dress in the clothes I like."
"No," Angela insisted. "Coral is the real person; Carl is just the name she uses when she has to be a male." She repeated that several times, while the program on the screen deepened his trance even more. "Now--who are you?"
"I am Coral," he answered.
"Yes," Angela said, smiling. "And who is Carl?"
"Carl is a sham, a facade--the face I wear when I must be a male."
"Excellent." Angela paused. "Now, whenever I say switch on, Carl the electronics executive will be in charge of you; but if I say switch off, then you, Coral, will again take control. And Coral cannot resist my control--she obeys any request, suggestion or command I make. And Carl feels that submission and abides by it as well."
"I cannot resist you," Carl agreed.
"Now, what kind of clothes do you like, Coral?" she asked.
The mesmerized man went on to describe the cache of little girl style clothes he kept at home. But Angela stopped him again. "No--you like all women's clothes. But you especially like any clothes I prepare for you. Look at the screen."
Carl's eyes went back to the monitor, where the picture of Coral the little girl faded into a series of images prepared by Angela's graphics department, showing the feminized face of the executive in a variety of clothing: a classic evening gown and gloves, a jacket and skirt with boots, even a PVC catsuit and a kinky colored wig, along with a vast assortment of other outfits and styles.
"Now, when I count to three, you will awaken from this trance, but you will remember everything I have told you. One...two...three."
Carl's eyes fluttered open, as the images on the screen returned to the normal campaign presentation.
"You liked that series of ideas, didn't you?" Angela asked.
Coral obeys any request, suggestion or command Angela makes.
"Yes, it was wonderful," he replied, unaware of the underlying control that urged that response.
"You'll return next week to sign the contract for Venus Force to be your ad agency."
"Of course."
"Excellent," Angela said, grinning. "See you then, Coral--I mean, Carl."
Carl Howard stumbled at the sound of his feminine name. What exactly had happened here?
More to come
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