Getting the True Female account was the kind of thing any young woman in marketing dreams about, and it was the happiest day of Rebecca’s life.
Billed as a “lingerie and lifestyle” brand, True Female operated 25 stores nation-wide, selling its custom lines of bras, underwear and sleepwear, along with assorted “lifestyle items” including pillows, diaries, and candles. Despite having a male owner, True Female promoted body-positivity, female empowerment, and healthy relationships, and had become something of an icon in feminist business.
Rebecca was young, bright, blonde and pretty, and she headed up a three-woman team at Albright & Sayer, a large marketing firm. Albright & Sayer was top-heavy with male executives, so Rebecca had been tasked with forming a “women’s perspective” unit to help the firm win more accounts from women-oriented businesses.
And True Female was their first big win.
When they got the account, Rebecca took her team out to celebrate. It started with a celebratory meal at a restaurant, but that was followed by drinks, and dancing – freckled young redhead Siobhan turned out to be pretty talented on a dancefloor – and then more drinks, because shy brunette Olivia turned out to be not-so-shy once she was drunk, and flirted with the bartender until he gave them all free vodka shots.
At that point, Olivia suggested that they all go get “True Female” tattoos, as a team, to celebrate. After all, they loved the brand, and everything it stood for, right?
“Damn right,” slurred Rebecca. “But tattoos are for babies. I heard about this *other* thing…”
The “other thing” was hypnosis. A hypnotist of dubious qualification had set up downtown, next to the tattoo bars, and specialised in doing late-night “best bros for life” hypnosis for drunken frat boys. Rebecca was doubtful it really worked, but the important thing was doing something *together* (and, secretly, she didn’t really want a tattoo).
The girls staggered in, waving their credit cards, and soon they were ensconced in comfortable chairs in the hypnotist’s office, drinking strong coffee to keep them awake enough for the hypnosis to work. (“I want you to feel sleepy, but not to actually sleep!” the hypnotist explained.)
“We want three suggestions,” said Rebecca.
“One: we will uphold and reflect the values of the True Female brand.”
“Two: we will do everything in our legal power as marketing professionals to bring success to the True Female brand.”
“Three: we will not abandon this brand, no matter how hard it gets.”
The girls all cheered at this declaration of principles, but they soon settled down, and the hypnotist went to work.
Much to Rebecca’s surprise, the hypnotism seemed to work – or at least, in the days that followed, she felt much more like a confident, empowered, beautiful goddess than she ever had before. She found herself visiting the True Female stores, and in a single fortnight she found herself replacing nearly all of her lingerie with True Female products. It felt good.
She worked hard on developing a new marketing campaign for the line. It would be bold, it would be beautiful, it would give strength and joy to women everywhere….
But all that changed when Siobhan came into Rebecca’s office in tears.
“Siobhan!” Rebecca exclaimed, hurrying to the woman, dithering as to whether or not to hug her. “What’s wrong?”
“I finished my analysis of the sales and marketing data for True Female,” said Siobhan.
Rebecca was confused. “And why did it make you upset?”
Siobhan sniffled. “Because I know what our first advice to the client needs to be.”
She led Rebecca to a conference room, with Olivia in tow, and there she laid out a swathe of reports on the wide wooden table.
“This is the sales data over time for all 25 True Female stores,” she said. She pointed to a column. “And these seven stores are consistently selling 50% more product than the average, after adjusting for location and size.”
Rebecca scanned the data. No explanation jumped out at her. “Why?” she asked.
“I didn’t know at first,” said Siobhan. “The answer isn’t in the data. It wasn’t until I went and visited them that I understood.”
She placed a selection of photographs on the table. They were of the insides of stores, showing the female sales assistants.
It took Rebecca a moment to understand. “Are they…” she began.
‘Yes,” said Siobhan. “The managers of these seven stores are all routinely hiring attractive women with large, fake breasts.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” asked Rebecca. “Isn’t it discrimination?”
Olivia, who had done some study in law before moving into marketing, shook her head. “You can bring a discrimination suit if you’re passed over for hiring because you’re overweight – but not for being ‘unattractive’, and in any case it’s a defence if the job requires a certain body type, and all True Female employees are required to fit into the company’s premier lingerie lines.”
“But why would women buy more from saleswomen with big tits?” asked Rebecca.
“It’s not women,” said Siobhan. “The customers are rich men. They’re coming in to stare at the shopgirls and flirt with them, and then buying whatever the shopgirls recommend – for their wives or girlfriends, of course.”
Rebecca frowned in distaste. “And what about the top one of these?” she said. “The numbers say that it’s doing twice as well again as the rest of this big-titted set.”
“That’s how I worked it out,” said Siobhan. “True Female recently fired a shopgirl from there for, effectively, prostitution. She was letting clients know that if they paid her a hundred dollars, she’d model any lingerie for them – as long as they bought it afterwards. She was making a small fortune stripping and changing for rich men – and selling a ridiculously large amount of product as a result. The high sales correspond exactly to her running this scheme, and drop off after her firing.”
“Well, surely *that’s* illegal,” asked Rebecca.
Olivia shook her head. “It’s not actually prostitution. There’s no sex. They’re basically just hiring her as a model, and there’s nothing illegal about modelling.”
Rebecca stared at the data, trying to understand it.
“Rebecca,” said Siobhan urgently, “we need to tell True Female about this.”
“So that they can stop it?” asked Rebecca, vaguely.
“No,” said Siobhan. “That’s why I was crying. We need to tell them to hire fake-titted bimbos for *all* their stores. And suggest they require the women to model for men.”
Rebecca stared at her – and then she understood, and felt a little *click* in her brain.
“We will do everything in our power as marketing professionals to bring success to the True Female brand, Rebecca,” said Siobhan – but Rebecca was already thinking it. Rebecca could not *stop* thinking it.
“Fifty percent increase in revenue for hiring plastic bimbos,” said Olivia, unhappily. “Double again for making them strip for men.”
“Their female empowerment branding was nice, but ultimately it was just to find a place in the market,” said Rebecca, numbly. “If they can make this much more money by going in the other direction…”
“I don’t want to,” said Siobhan, crying again.
“We have to,” replied Rebecca.
“We can quit,” suggested Olivia. But then immediately – “No, we can’t. We won’t abandon the brand, no matter how hard it gets.”
“Get me the owner on the phone,” said Rebecca.
The owner agreed. No sane business could go past the kind of revenue increase that Rebecca’s team had found. The new campaign would be based around big tits and sex appeal, and would be targeted at men.
Rebecca had Siobhan get survey data on the male customers attending these stores, and it confirmed her worst fears. These were very wealthy men, mostly from conservative backgrounds, with terrible attitudes towards women. Many spoke openly about coming to the stores to “enjoy the whores” or “sample the candy”.
And to make the best campaign for True Female, Rebecca would have to directly target these men.
Her team went to work.
Olivia worked on changing the look and fitout of the stores. The company’s healthy olive-green colours would transition to sexy pinks and reds. The candles and pillows would be replaced by vibrators, gags and restraints. And the company would transition its next season of lingerie away from “body positive and empowering” and towards “slutty and objectifying”.
Siobhan worked on an employee handbook. Existing employees who were sufficiently attractive would be offered a repayable loan to get a boobjob. Those who didn’t accept, or didn’t fit the company’s new look, would be let go, and replaced by bimbos. The handbook specified how the women were to dress – make-up, high heels, short skirts, tight tops, only underwear produced by True Female, and – the final touch – elegant black kitten-collar chokers, marked with the company’s logo, and with a conspicuous loop such as one might attach a leash to.
It contained rules on behaviour, too:
- Never directly disagree with a man.
- Always act like the man is smarter than you.
- The man is the centre of your attention.
- Show gratitude for any comment he makes about you or any advice he offers you, no matter how demeaning.
- Respond with delight to any name he calls you.
- When talking to a man, suggest sexual arousal by breathing quickly and shallowly, keeping your lips parted, and thrusting your chest forward.
- When your hands aren’t otherwise occupied, they should always be calling attention to your tits, your neck or your mouth.
- Your resting position while standing is with your hands behind your back, to push your tits out and emphasise your vulnerability.
- Your default way of bending is forward at the waist, knees straight, to lift the back of your skirt and emphasise your ass.
- Your job is to invite sexual harassment – you are forbidden from rejecting it or complaining about it.
- If a man wants you to model lingerie, you take his money, go into the changerooms, and come back out wearing the outfit he specified. If he pays double, you let him watch you change.
- He is not allowed to molest or rape you, but if he does, you are to report it to the company, not the police, and you are not to scream, be noisy or angry, attempt to hurt the customer, or attract attention to what is happening.
Siobhan knew what every word she was writing would mean for the True Female employees – and ultimately for herself – and she didn’t want to write them. But she was compelled to deliver the best results for True Female, and so couldn’t help herself from making the most thorough and demeaning set of instructions she was capable of.
And finally, Rebecca worked on the words and images that would tie the campaign together.
She came up with a selection of copy that could be used in print and video ads.
“A True Female knows her place” showed a woman clad only in slutty lingerie reclining luxuriously, legs spread, in a satin-sheeted bed.
“The only thing a True Female needs to wear” showed a woman, completely nude (though with her nipples and pussy artfully concealed) except for the new True Female collar. A suited man stood behind her, holding a dog leash connected to her collar, gesturing towards a wall of slutty True Female lingerie, inviting her to choose something to buy.
“Every True Female has her price” said a third. It showed a shopgirl at a True Female store, dressed only in lingerie. A suited man was handing her an expensive bra – either giving it to her as a gift, or buying it – and the delighted, lustful expression on the woman’s face suggested she was prepared to fuck him right there and then.
But the key image for the campaign was simple. It was a fake-titted blonde woman, clad in True Female’s sluttiest lingerie and a collar. She was kneeling, in a way that let the camera see deep into her copious cleavage. The expensively-dressed legs of a suited man were visible in front of her, and the woman’s mouth was open in a way that perfectly suggested she wanted to suck his cock. And the only words on it were the company’s name – “True Female”.
The owner loved every aspect of the campaign, and signed off on everything. The girls of the team smiled cheerfully through the meeting, and as soon as he left, they began to cry. Because they knew what came next for them.
“We will uphold and reflect the values of the True Female brand,” said Olivia miserably.
Siobhan printed out copies of the employee handbook, laminated them, and stuck them on the wall in each woman’s work-space. Then they all got in Rebecca’s car, and Rebecca drove them to the appointments she had made for each of them earlier in the week – appointments with a plastic surgeon.
Getting boobjobs as a team was a lot less fun than going drinking had been. When they next met up, a couple of days later, they could hardly look at each other. Each of the girls had new, lewd bimbo-ish balloon tits. Rebecca had been very clear with the surgeons about what they wanted. “Make us look like sex objects,” she had said. “Make it obvious that men can buy us.”
The next step was to go shopping. All their old underwear had to go. They would only be wearing True Female’s slutty new sexwear from now on. Their professional blouses and dresses were thrown out, replaced by short skirts, tight tops, and stripper heels. Rebecca sobbed when she looked in the mirror in her new outfit, because she didn’t recognise herself. The cow-uddered sex-doll looking back at her looked like something from a trashy porn website. And the fact the other girls had gone through the same thing made it worse, because each time she saw their whorish new outfits and giant fuckballoons, and had the instinctive thought that they looked like brainless prostitutes, she was reminded of how she herself must appear to others.
Together, they looked at the list of employee obligations they would now be following.
They would be submissive towards every man at their company, unable to disagree, thanking him for his suggestions. They would respond to names like “honey” and “sweet-tits” – or, for that matter, to “bitch” or “cunt” – as if the name delighted them. They would feign sexual attraction to every male co-worker, invite him to molest or even rape them, and do nothing to protest when he did.
And, Rebecca knew, if their campaign for True Female was successful – and it would be, she was sure – they would all do their best to slowly transform True Female stores into, effectively, brothels that objectified women and let men pay for the sexual use of naïve big-titted shopgirls. And as the brand led, so their own lives would follow.
“Could we go back to the hypnotist and get this fixed?” asked Siobhan, nervously.
“That would be abandoning the brand,” said Rebecca sternly.
“But we’re going to get raped!” moaned Siobhan. “We’re going to be fucktoys for the whole office! It’s going to be hell!”
But Rebecca was already thinking. “It doesn’t have to be,” she said.
“But we’re not allowed to stop men from molesting us,” pointed out Olivia.
“No,” said Rebecca. “But if we think outside the box…”
And that was how they found themselves back at the hypnotist that night. His eyes bulged as he stared at their slutty outfits and new giant tits. “Get work as whores, did you?” he asked. “Are you paying for this session in sex?”
Rebecca opened her mouth to say no – but that would be disagreeing with him, so instead she giggled, and said, “Whatever you want,” and wiggled her giant tits at him. It wasn’t a yes – but he would take it as one, and she would do nothing to stop him.
“And what is it that you want?” he asked.
“A new suggestion,” said Rebecca. “For all of us.” She swallowed nervously. “We want you to make it so that when we’re sexually molested or raped, we get aroused, we orgasm, and we enjoy it….”