For other shows, I had a feather plume on my bottom that went up my back. The costumes were always different. I rolled around on the floor, did the splits and "spread 'em," as instructed, for the boys. Sometimes I sang, sometimes I just danced, and sometimes for smaller private audiences, I stripped all the way. And there were times I was just there to dance seductively for Bob's personal and private pleasure later on in the evening.

After the show, some man would put a prod or stun gun to my forehead. I totally collapsed into his arms and he carried me over and laid me down until it was time to leave. The physical sensation I experienced was a jolt of white-hot electricity, and then I felt very, very cold. This was the reaction to the electroshock. The man delivering the electricity also delivered programming to me. Before and after he zapped me, he said, "You are fat and ugly and no man could ever be attracted to you." As commanded, I carried the belief that I was fat and ugly and I never would have believed I was attractive enough to perform on stage, had I begun to remember. They would zap me with electroshock either on the forehead, the base of my skull, or on my back or thighs. For some reason on this occasion, Bob laughed just before they zapped me. He had some goon do it — he rarely did.

I was often in very poor condition when we were helicoptered away and Bob laughed and made excuses for my listlessness, saying things like, "Ah, don't worry about her, the kid's just had too much to drink." Truth was I wasn't even allowed to drink, not even water. My physical reactions were all from the aftereffects of the electroshock intended to erase my memory.

Another show I was taken to was for the boys in the Army. Bob wore an Army uniform, just like the soldiers, and made jokes about being just like "one of the fellas" in his uniform. They loved it and cheered. Bob could get away with saying just about anything to them and they would laugh. When he introduced me, he said, "Watch this little one shake her tail feather!" I came out with a glittery bra and a g-string with tail feathers attached to the back. I danced carrying matching purple feathers in my hands and placed them over my breasts and then turned around and held them over my bottom.

When I was winding down my act, I was instructed to distribute all but the last of the feathers to soldiers in the audience and then turn my back to them, spread my legs far apart, turn my head and say, "Sorry boys, I need to leave something to keep me warm!"

I felt like I was on lots of naval bases in the United States at some time or another. Sometimes for entertaining "the boys" with Bob, but more often for programming. The programming at these bases was torturous. I was hung upside down in tanks filled with water or gases. There also were chairs with straight backs and arm rests, with bands that fit tightly around my forehead, wrists and ankles. They also used electroshock and light and sound equipment, combined with food and sleep deprivation. I was subjected to lots of high tech equipment and machines. I didn't have a clue what these machines actually did or why my controllers were torturing me with them.

Bob took me with him to lots of places when I was 16 to 21 (1967–1972). Wherever we were, or whomever I was to be with, I usually came with the silver limo. I would be held in the back and no one from the outside could tell I was there. I was accustomed to performing oral sex to whomever I was instructed, and in limos and public places it meant swallowing. As a result I would become sick some days when there were a lot of men "to do."

Sometimes the limo would be full of Bob's friends and I would be told to wait in the back after a premier, gala or show openings, etc. Bob would bring his friends "along for the ride" and they got to "sample his goodies" is what he would say to his friends. One evening at a Hollywood event that took place in front of Gromin's Chinese Theatre, Elizabeth Taylor looked curiously past Bob as he stood in front of the entrance to the limo I was «parked» in. She asked him who I was. Then she made fun of him, saying, "Couldn't you at least get one that doesn't look like a child? She doesn't even have any breasts!" They didn't seem to get along too well.

My programming made me feel bonded to Bob Hope. Almost like being married or comfortable being with him, like it was second nature to be with him. I was programmed to know what he liked so I could easily please him. He liked to find me in his bathtub, full of bubbles, giggling and happy and ready for him. He liked for me to take off his shoes, rub his (smelly) feet, inch up his legs, unzip his pants, and perform oral sex, but stop just before he orgasmed and wait a while before continuing. Following program command, I sat on his lap, kissed him, and told him how handsome he was, as he sat in his favorite winged back chair in his room. He had a footstool that I sat on to rub his feet.

Bob did not always want sex actually, but always liked to be reminded of it by talking about sexual things or how young I was. He loved young women and I was just that, and always was young to him because he was older than the hills! He was older than my father. He could have been my grandfather, with nearly a 50 year age difference between us. I had been trained all my life to please older men. I knew just how to treat them, flatter them, and make them feel good, psychologically and, of course, physically. Bob sexually desired me from ages 16–20 or so, after that he just had sex with me, almost as a convenience to him. When I married, his sexual desire seemed to change. During my teen years he'd take me around to friends, parties, clubs, and he bragged to whomever he was with, that he still got the 'young stuff.

I do not remember ever being involved in satanic trauma with Bob. But he must have known and liked what it created from my childhood years. He was above the trappings of satanism, like most of the higher ups. They looked at people who practiced satanism as low level, but the job had to be done (trauma base for mind control) and they rationalized it by saying, "look how beautifully she turned out."

I had lots of party girl personalities programmed for Bob. Bob spent a greater amount of time with me when I was a teenager, until I was married. The personalities dedicated and devoted to Bob were clever and programmed with silly jokes for Bob's company. Bob liked me to start the parties out right, so guests were served mixed drinks, champagne, hors d'oeuvres, etc. Then Bob had me entertain in skimpy little outfits he provided, such as a red leotard, with netting around my wrist, red fishnet stockings and red sparkly high heels. I'd sing and dance and would strip if it was an appropriate time. One of the first times Bob had me start the party, he said, "You took control of the room!" He seemed surprised.

When I stripped in front of couples, I did a lot of the same 'couple bonding' techniques that I did with couples in the intimacy of their own bedrooms. I was programmed to say something about the husband to the wife like, "God you have good taste in men! I wish I could find one like this." And while I said it, I would lasso him with a silk scarf or feathers and pull him close, usually to my bare navel or chest. Or I'd say to the husband, "You have won the charms of one of the most beautiful women in the world! You must be quite a man." And I would go on and on whispering, as if just to them, yet still having everyone in the room watch. Usually, unless Bob said it wasn't appropriate, I'd eventually strip and it seemed to loosen everyone up and very often I invited them if they cared to, to join me. It was usually like watching a group of little kids doing something naughty. Everyone would stand up and start getting naked, pulling off their clothes and throwing them all over the floor. Then they would go skinny-dipping or off to a side room for sex. People later told Bob the experience really stimulated their sexuality and they had not had such great sex in 20 years of marriage.