AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Janet and the execs chuckled. One woman raised her hand. "Actually, I am a Little."
"Brilliant!" Mike stage-whispered. "And a Daddy willing to humor us and join in the 'regression,' perhaps?"
Eyes scanned the room, then fell on a lanky young man whose cheeks turned a pleasing shade of pink. This set off a ripple of laughter which only intensified as I added, "We won't bite. Well, not unless that's in the script..."
As if on cue, Mike and I erupted in synchronized giggling, all wide-eyed smiles and dramatic drops into beanbag chairs. The meeting room filled with mirth – even from the most seemingly hardened business people.
Mike, playing his part perfectly, added with a playful wink, "And for those Littles who might find themselves in a bit of mischief," he glanced at me, an obvious nod to our own antics, "Liltech's location tracker ensures Daddies can always find their wayward Littles. Not that we'd ever need such a thing, right, Lina?"
I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation, "Of course not, Mike. But it's about giving peace of mind to Daddies and freedom to Littles to explore their world safely." Turning back to the audience, I concluded, "Our campaign tells these stories, focusing on the magic Liltech brings into the lives of Daddies and Littles, strengthening their bond through innovation."
The room was filled with nods and appreciative smiles as we wrapped up our presentation, the visual aids and our banter painting a vivid picture of how Liltech’s gadgets could seamlessly integrate into the lives of Daddies and Littles, enhancing their connections in new and magical ways.
As we stepped down, I felt a surge of pride. By the smiles gracing everyone's faces, we'd won more than just the account.
A wave of nervous energy rushed through me as Team Two stepped onto the stage. Hank and Joe commanded attention immediately, thanks to their naturally dominant presence. If our presentation was whimsical, I suspected theirs would be the precise opposite.
"Daddies," Hank rumbled in a deep voice, "are at the core of what makes Liltech work. That's why our campaign emphasizes a sense of responsibility, stability, and perhaps most importantly...control."
His last word resonated heavily in the crisp office air. A ripple of interest crossed the faces of the Liltech executives. It seemed we weren't the only ones who found the notion intriguing.
Joe stepped forward. "It's not just about emotional bonding, vital as that is," he explained, "For many Daddies, peace of mind is paramount. They crave safety, the knowledge that their Little is both cherished and secure."
"Think of the Liltech products, not just as playthings," Hank interjected, "but as tools. That pacifier with the embedded tracker? For a nervous Daddy, that's more than a gadget. It's a tether to their Little's well-being. Your smart plushie that records heartbeat sounds? More than comfort, it's assurance for a Daddy when they can't be present."
A crisp image slid onto the screen. A handsome man, an aura of competence radiating from him, gazed down at his phone screen. Beside it, a bold line of ad copy: "Liltech: Control without curtailing joy."
"It might not be about giggles," Joe chimed in, "but there's an immense appeal in that. An appeal born out of love."
Then came the surprise, the element that turned their slick presentation into an experience. Joe reached into a sleek briefcase, withdrawing two items.
"One of your early developmental prototypes," he stated, holding up a simple wristband, "It had basic tracking functions. Standard enough. But what if we pushed it further, gave it haptic feedback?"
Hank demonstrated, slipping the band around his wrist. As Joe adjusted settings on a sleek tablet, it began buzzing - first an urgent rhythm, then a softer, rhythmic pattern.
"We ran tests," Joe said. "With consenting Daddy/Little pairs, of course. Could the Daddy effectively understand a pattern? Turns out, they could. Imagine emergency codes - Daddy needs them now, a sudden change in plans... or perhaps even... "
He winked, letting the audience fill in the blanks with their own imagination of playful scenarios.
"That's not all," Hank boomed, a hint of humor creeping into his normally stern demeanor. "Liltech already builds incredible quality into your products. Our research showed Daddies want that same high standard for discretion. This," he held up a tiny, barely-visible earpiece, "receives signals not only from the usual app, but also relays real-time data from your Littles' gadgets themselves: breathing, heart rate,temperature...everything they need to be the protector they aspire to be."
That, it seemed, sealed the deal. The Liltech execs murmured amongst themselves, eyes gleaming. I looked at Mike, and his worried expression mirrored my own. Their pitch had power, raw efficiency. I'd be lying if I said it didn't intimidate me.
Suddenly, Janet stood, clapping softly. "Well, we thank both teams for the truly impressive pitches." My shoulders sagged. It seemed a clear winner had emerged.
Then Janet surprised us, a wide smile breaking out on her face. "You know," she began, "we came in here anticipating making one difficult choice. But instead, we've realized a beautiful truth. Your campaigns weren't just different, they were two halves of a perfect whole."
My face must've betrayed my disbelief. Janet laughed. "It's true! Liltech has Littles to care for, and Daddies to empower. This campaign can't be about one or the other. So, instead of one team walking away with the account... you'll both be staying."
Her announcement was met with shocked silence, only broken when she continued, "And not just staying. You'll split the million-dollar prize money as we begin merging ideas for a comprehensive Liltech product line. It’s clear from today that only by working together can we create an ad campaign truly reflective of our community."
Beside me, I heard Mike let out a boisterous whoop before composing himself. The sight of Joe shaking his head, though unable to conceal the grin tugging at his lips, had me giggling. We thanked the client for the opportunity before heading to Hank’s office space.
"Well, I guess congratulations are in order," Joe offered, his usually bright energy buzzing through him despite his best attempt at composure. "Who knew two competing pitches would result in forced labor."
"Hey, at least it's forced labor with a cool million split four ways," Mike shot back, throwing a friendly arm around my shoulders, "We're going to Disneyland!”
The absurdity of Mike's comment cracked Hank. "Perhaps after Disneyland, you could spend those winnings on a sense of financial responsibility," he deadpanned, an echo of his presentation seriousness still lingering.
