Chapter 5

The next afternoon, you arrive at your office, closing the door behind you with a satisfied smile. The observation of Isabella's behavior on campus the other day has confirmed that your hypnotic suggestions are taking root even faster than anticipated. Her interaction with Tyler and acceptance of a party invitation represent a significant deviation from her usual behavior patterns.

Maria looks up from her desk as you enter, her heavily made-up eyes following your movements. "Dr. Stern, Giorgia Valentini will be here in fifteen minutes for her appointment," she reminds you, her voice carrying the breathy quality you've programmed into her. "I've prepared her file." She hands you a folder, her manicured fingers lingering against yours longer than necessary, her ample cleavage deliberately positioned in your line of sight as she leans forward.

You take the folder and review Giorgia's information. Unlike her sister's academic focus, Giorgia's file shows her athletic achievements and major coursework. Several notes indicate her protective nature toward Isabella and her popularity on campus. The upcoming volleyball tournament features prominently in her recent concerns.

As you prepare your office, adjusting the lighting and positioning your chair for optimal control during the session, you consider your approach. Giorgia presents different challenges than Isabella—more socially aware, more confident in her body, but equally susceptible to suggestion under the right conditions. The stress of her tournament provides the perfect entry point.

You hear a knock at the door. Through the frosted glass, you can make out the silhouette of an athletic female figure. Maria's voice carries from the reception area: "You can go right in, Ms. Valentini. Dr. Stern is expecting you."

The door opens, and Giorgia Valentini steps into your office. Unlike her sister's pallid complexion and unkempt appearance, Giorgia radiates vitality. Her Mediterranean skin glows with health, her long black hair falling in lush waves past her shoulders. She's dressed in university athletic wear—fitted volleyball team sweatpants and a zip-up jacket that accentuates her toned physique. Her brown eyes meet yours with confident directness as she extends her hand.

"Dr. Stern, thank you for seeing me," she says, her voice warm and self-assured. "Coach says these sessions might help with my pre-tournament nerves."

"Please, take a seat, Giorgia," you say, gesturing to the comfortable chair across from your desk. "I understand you've been feeling some pressure about the upcoming tournament."

Giorgia settles into the chair, her athletic frame moving with natural grace. She crosses one leg over the other, her volleyball sweatpants hugging the defined muscles of her thighs. "Yeah, Coach says I'm overthinking things. I keep missing shots I could make in my sleep."

You nod sympathetically, noting how she unconsciously touches the volleyball team logo on her jacket. "Performance anxiety is common, even among elite athletes. Let's talk about some techniques that might help you regain your focus."

For the next twenty minutes, you engage in standard counseling dialogue, discussing breathing exercises and visualization techniques. Giorgia responds well, her initial tension visibly melting as she leans forward, her dark eyes fixed on yours with growing trust.

"Actually," she says, tucking a strand of glossy black hair behind her ear, "I wanted to thank you for what you've done for Isabella. I don't know what you said to her, but she seems... different. In a good way."

Your interest piques. "Different how?"

Giorgia's face lights up with a warm smile. "She actually went shopping with me yesterday. Isabella never shops! And this morning, I caught her putting on mascara. Mascara! My sister who once wrote a thesis on the patriarchal implications of cosmetics." She laughs, the sound rich and genuine. "She even mentioned going to a party tonight. Whatever you're doing, it's like... it's like you've helped her find a part of herself she's been suppressing."

"That's wonderful to hear," you reply, savoring the irony. "Sometimes our sessions help people access aspects of themselves they didn't know existed."

"You're a miracle worker," Giorgia says, leaning closer. Her scent—a subtle mix of jasmine and clean sweat from her earlier practice—drifts across the desk. "Isabella's been so locked in her head for years. I've been worried about her. It's like she's finally letting herself be a normal college girl."

You observe the genuine affection in Giorgia's eyes as she speaks about her sister, noting how this emotional connection might be leveraged. "Family support is crucial during times of change. Isabella is fortunate to have you."

"We've always looked out for each other," she says, her voice softening. "After our parents died, we became even closer. That's why seeing her happy means everything to me." She pauses, studying your face with newfound admiration. "I wasn't sure about these sessions at first, but now... I think I could really benefit from your guidance too."

"Giorgia, I'd like to try a relaxation technique that might help with your tournament anxiety," you suggest, leaning forward slightly. "It's similar to what I've done with Isabella, which has been quite effective."

Giorgia nods eagerly, her dark eyes bright with interest. "I'm game for anything that helps."

"Excellent. I want you to focus on this pendant," you say, withdrawing a silver pendant on a chain from your desk drawer. You hold it up, letting it catch the light as it sways gently between you. "Watch how the light plays across the surface."

Giorgia's eyes lock onto the pendant, her athletic body gradually relaxing into the chair. Her breathing slows, the rise and fall of her chest becoming more measured beneath her team jacket.

"That's right," you murmur. "With each swing, you're feeling more relaxed. Your eyelids are getting heavier."

Her long lashes flutter, fighting briefly against the suggestion before beginning to droop. The tension in her shoulders visibly melts away.

"You're concerned about Isabella," you continue, your voice a hypnotic cadence. "You want to protect her, to help her. That's admirable."

Giorgia's lips part slightly, her head nodding almost imperceptibly.

"But to truly help Isabella, you need to understand her better. To understand all parts of her." The pendant swings rhythmically. "There's a part of you, Giorgia, that understands exactly what Isabella is experiencing. A part that knows how to have fun, to let go of worries and academic pressures."

Her breathing deepens further, her head tilting slightly to one side as she slips deeper into trance.

"This part of you is called Gia. Gia knows how to party, how to attract attention. She's confident, sexy, uninhibited." You lower your voice to a whisper. "Gia is the part of you that can help Isabella embrace her own transformation." You weave an alternate personality of Gia - wild, uninhibited, and completely free of Giorgia’s concerns - using her own preconceived notions about party girls around campus.

A subtle change ripples across Giorgia's features—her lips curving into a slight smile, her posture shifting almost imperceptibly. The foundation for Gia has been laid, a seed planted in fertile ground.

"When I count to three and snap my fingers, you'll awaken feeling refreshed and with no memory of our discussion. One... two... three." You snap your fingers.

Giorgia blinks rapidly, straightening in her chair. "Wow," she says, running a hand through her glossy black hair. "I must have zoned out for a minute there. That was... intense."

"Just a simple relaxation exercise," you explain smoothly. "How do you feel?"

"Good," she says, sounding slightly surprised. "Really good, actually. Like something's... I don't know, clearer?" She glances at her reflection in your office window, tucking her hair behind her ear with a gesture that seems somehow more deliberate, more aware of how the movement accentuates her features.

"You know, Giorgia," you say casually, "sometimes when we feel stressed, it helps to just let go and have fun. To be more like... Gia."

At the mention of that name, a visible change ripples through her. Her eyes, previously focused and alert, glaze slightly. Her posture shifts - shoulders rolling back, chest subtly thrust forward. The transformation is subtle but unmistakable.

"Gia?" she repeats, her voice taking on a slightly higher pitch. She blinks rapidly, then a slow smile spreads across her face. "Oh my god, like, why are you calling me Giorgia? That's so formal." She giggles, the sound utterly unlike her previous laugh - higher, more affected. "It's just Gia, 'kay?"

She uncrosses her legs and recrosses them in the opposite direction, the movement deliberately sensual. Her fingers toy with the hem of her volleyball jacket, pulling it up slightly to reveal a sliver of tanned midriff. "So like, are we done with all this boring stuff? 'Cause I was thinking of hitting up that party tonight. Heard some of the football guys are gonna be there." She leans forward, giving you an unintentional view down her athletic top. "You think I should change first? This outfit is so not hot enough."

The transformation is remarkable - Giorgia's focused intensity has been replaced by Gia's vapid flirtatiousness. Even her body language has changed, becoming more overtly sexual, her movements designed to draw attention to her athletic figure. Yet there's a flicker of confusion in her eyes, suggesting the persona is still developing, not fully integrated.

"Actually," she continues, twirling a strand of her glossy black hair, "my sister's going too. She's been acting so weird lately. Like, actually fun? I didn't even know she knew how to have fun." She giggles again, the sound empty and artificial.

"Let's continue our relaxation exercise, Gia," you say, your voice dropping to a hypnotic cadence. "You're feeling so good right now, so free from all those boring responsibilities."

Gia giggles, tossing her glossy black hair over her shoulder. "Like, totally! Being responsible is such a drag."

"Focus on my pendant again," you instruct, lifting the silver chain. "Watch how it catches the light... beautiful, isn't it? Just like you."

Her eyes lock onto the swinging pendant, pupils dilating. Her breathing slows, becoming deeper and more rhythmic. The vapid smile remains frozen on her face.

"Gia is your true self," you murmur. "Giorgia is just a mask you wear to please others. But Gia knows what you really want – to look hot, to party, to enjoy your body and let others enjoy it too."

A visible shudder runs through her athletic frame. Her lips part slightly, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet them in an unconsciously sensual gesture.

"When Giorgia tries to take control, you'll feel uncomfortable, like wearing clothes that are too tight. But when Gia is in control, you feel amazing – sexy, confident, free."

Her eyelids flutter, her chest rising and falling more prominently now. The volleyball jacket seems to constrain her, and she shifts in her seat, subtly arching her back.

"Giorgia cares about volleyball tournaments and grades. But Gia knows those things don't matter. What matters is feeling good, looking hot, and having fun. And deep down, that's what you truly want."

You deepen the trance, layering suggestion upon suggestion. With each passing minute, Gia's persona strengthens, consuming more of Giorgia's consciousness.

"When I snap my fingers, you'll awaken as Gia – confident, sexy, and ready to party. Giorgia will still exist, but as a distant memory, a boring version of yourself you've outgrown."

You snap your fingers. Her eyes open, but they're different now – slightly unfocused, with a predatory gleam that wasn't there before.

"Oh. My. God." She stretches languorously, her body moving with a new sensuality. "This outfit is, like, totally not working for me." She unzips her volleyball jacket, revealing a simple sports bra beneath. "I've got that party tonight, and I need to look hot AF."