[Unlike the first two "Image" stories, this one does not directly involve a fictional version of the titular celebrity; however, it is a sort of sequel to my earlier story, Sublime Control.]
"I'm afraid Joe's grades just keep dropping, Mrs. Conroy," the guidance counselor told her. "He's not applying himself and it seems as if he's constantly distracted. Do you have any idea what the problem could be?"
"Yes, I do," Joe's mother replied. But I have no idea how to deal with it, she admitted to herself.
Arriving home, Mrs. Conroy called to her son. "Joe, where are you? Joe, we've got to talk--" There was no answer. But she knew where he was. She went to his room, knocked, and then entered.
Sixteen-year-old Joe Conroy's room could better be called a shrine, a temple of worship to the one love of his life, the brunette bombshell actress that Joe usually referred to as "sigh Jennifer." Nearly every square inch of the walls was covered with pictures and posters of the girl, ranging from her debut as an ingenue to her current career as a busty sexpot. As his mother had figured, Joe was at his computer, searching for and downloading still more pictures of his crush, with the stereo headphones on, listening to rock music.
Mrs. Conroy walked up behind him and removed the headphones. "Mom!" Joe protested.
"Turn off the computer, Joe," his mother insisted. "We have to talk."
Although an hour later, Joe had promised to spend more time on schoolwork and less on Jennifer, Mrs. Conroy knew it wouldn't stick. She had to find another solution. Her sister had recommended the services of a company called Sublime Control, that specialized in dealing with therapy for cases just such as this. She decided to make an appointment.
Angela set one of the photos in Joe's line of sight, a shot from early in her career, and asked the boy to concentrate on it. "What do you like about that photo, Joe?" she asked.
"Well, I love the long braid," he said, turning toward the therapist.
"No--keep your eyes on the picture, Joe. Go on."
Angela kept at it for several minutes, talking softly and urging Joe to concentrate on the photo. After some time, she asked, "Joe, are you feeling sleepy?"
"Yes," he murmured.
"Then sleep, Joe.." Instantly, his eyes closed and his head slumped to his chest.
A month later, Mrs. Conroy entered the bedroom and called softly, "Time to get up."
The figure that rose from the covers could have been a twin of the images that once adorned the walls of this room. Her long dark hair cascaded down her back. The deep violet nightgown clung to the abundant curves of her body. She stretched, smiled sweetly, and said, "Good morning, Mother."
"Good morning, Jenny dear," her mother answered. Then the tone changed slightly, "Joe, we have to talk."
"Don't you like it?" Mrs. Conroy asked. "Your body says you do."
Indeed, there was a noticeable bulge below the waist in the otherwise curve-hugging satin of the gown.
Angela had discovered that Joe's interest in Jennifer went far beyond a mere crush; there was a latent transvestite need to look like the beautiful actress within his psyche. With his mother's permission, Angela had strengthened that need and implanted a set of post-hypnotic triggers for it.
Once Joe returned to school as "Jenny," her grades improved, her concentration returned, as long as her need for sexual release in feminine guise was satisfied.
"We have a follow-up appointment with Miss Angela, so I need you to get ready," Mrs. Conroy explained. "Get pretty, Jenny."
With girlish enthusiasm, Jenny leaped from the bed and began her morning preparations.
"Jenny," Angela began, "are you feeling horny?"
"Yes, Miss Angela," she answered. The therapist watched as the nipples of the boy-girl's artificially enhanced boobs poked through the fabric of her sundress at the thought of her own excitement.
"Good," Angela answered. "I'm horny, too." Unknown to his mother, Angela had been using her hypnotic control over the boy to make him over into one more of a stable of "male lesbians" she had created. This was the first, however, she had done without the cooperation of the wife, girlfriend, or mother. That would come later, when she had a chance to engage in a little therapy with Joe's mother as well.
Jenny knew what it meant when her therapist admitted her own horniness. She got down on her knees and lifted Angela's skirt, revealing her naked pussy framed by the black of her garter belt and stockings. Angela guided the boy-girl's mouth to her waiting clit.
"That's it, Jenny," she said. "Feel my excitement grow. Feel my clit get big and stiff. Can you feel your own clit growing, Jenny?" The transformed boy murfled an affirmative. "Good, now you know you can't come until I do, Jenny. Feel my excitement grow along with yours. You can come when I say our special words."
Angela felt the beginnings of her orgasm and she held off the magic words, letting it build and build, until finally she cried, "Joe, we have to talk!"
Instantly, Joe's cock spasmed with his orgasm and he fell back onto the carpet, aware of who he was and what he'd been doing. He tasted Angela's pussy on his lips and tongue and smiled at the taste.
"Well, that was quite good, Joe," Angela said. "Do you regret becoming Jenny now?"
"No, Miss Angela," he replied.
"Want to do some more?"
"Excellent. Jenny likes pussy."