The Brain Eraser

The Brain Eraser, Part 2

by All These Roadworks

Tags: #cw:noncon #bimbofication #dom:male #f/m #humiliation #hypno #sub:female #demotion_fetish #exec2sec #office

The Brain Eraser, Part 2
Story by All These Roadworks (2022).
 
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After Erika’s rape, only Evan remained, and he watched from hiding until she had regained her feet, and began helplessly looking for her car again.  He stepped forward and offered her a lift home, and Erika had no choice but to accept.
 
On the drive to her house, he took pleasure in calling her “sugar-tits” and “sweetie”, and Erika, unable to conceive of the concept of “sexual harassment”, just blushed and offered no response.  When he arrived at her house, he leaned over and deliberately squeezed her breast, and this too was something she allowed to happen.
 
Erika never did find her car, and after that she was dependent on the men to give her lifts to and from work.  (They made her forget how to drive entirely, just to be sure.)  The men commented on her appearance every morning, telling her how she’d be prettier in a more revealing dress, and higher heels, laughing that she was very stupid to forget how to drive, and complimenting her on her large tits.  They often asked her point-blank if she’d ever been raped, just to see her face go red with overpowering guilt and shame, and watch her squirm as her cunt became suddenly soppingly wet.  And they always made sure to grope her tits in the car, which she allowed to happen while blushing, and sometimes grope her ass as she got in and out.
 
She knew that all of this was wrong - that something was happening to her.  She certainly didn’t like being treated this way by the men.  But when she tried to think about how she might get help, her brain was empty.  She no longer remembered how to make a complaint to HR.  She no longer remembered how to contact police.  It didn’t even occur to her to talk to friends outside of work.
 
The men began sending Erika emails.  The emails would contain an image of a bimbo - big-titted, blonde, visibly brainless.  Sometimes the bimbo would be dressed - albeit in tight, figure-hugging slutwear - and other times she would be nude, and kneeling, and caressing her oversized tits.  Sometimes she was even giving a blowjob or being fucked.
 
And each of these emails would say something like, “It’s a shame you’re so ugly, Erika, and not pretty like this bitch.”  
 
And as Erika opened each email, they would train the device on her through her office window.  They would associate pleasure and joy and longing with the image of the bimbo, and magnify the shame and humiliation she felt at the criticism of her own appearance and behaviour.
 
She began to visibly flinch as each email arrived, and fidget anxiously with her clothes as she read the men’s commentary.  And then she would sit there, staring fixedly at the lewd image in front of her for long minutes.
 
The changes began relatively quickly.  Erika began to turn up to work in tighter blouses and shorter skirts.  Her heels got higher.  She spent more time on her make-up, and her overall look became flirtier, more decorative, more seductive.
 
The men would compliment her on these changes - always by objectifying her.  “Nice tits, Erika,” Evan would say, if she was showing a lot of cleavage.  “Great skirt, Erika - I can almost see your cunt,” Franklin would laugh if her skirt was particularly short.  “Wow, Erika,” Harry would call out (returned from the hospital and fully healed), “you look *fuckable* today!”  
 
And then the day came that Erika turned up to work with dyed blonde hair.
 
Then men burst out laughing when she arrived at the office.  “Damn, Erica,” said Franklin.  “You look like a whore dressed up as a secretary.”  
 
“How much for half an hour, baby?” asked Harry.
 
“You look dressed up for a porn shoot,” said Evan.
 
And then they doubled down, for the rest of the day, with one repeated comment.
 
“Looking like that, you deserve to be raped.”
 
Erika was lost in confusion.  She had thought the men would approve of her looking like this.  But they were mocking her.  And every time they mentioned “rape”, she got so wet.  She had to go to the women’s toilets four times, each time masturbating to orgasm, guilty and ashamed that her violation was arousing her so deeply.
 
That evening, after work, the men raped her again.
 
They didn’t bother disguising themselves this time.  After all, they could just delete the memory of their identity from her brain afterwards.  They all took their turns with her, and while she cried and struggled, they noted that she was wet for them this time, and orgasmed multiple times from her violation.  
 
And when it was done, after erasing her memory of who had violated her, they again deepened her feelings of shame and guilt from the rape, and deepened her feelings of guilty arousal, and intensified the knowledge that it had been *her fault* because of how she was dressed.  
 
Then they removed her knowledge of how to dress professionally.  The only way she knew how to get dressed at all was in her current mode - as Franklin had put it, “a whore dressed up as a secretary”. 
 
To Evan’s surprise, the next morning when he picked her up from work, she had a breakdown.  She began sobbing in the car, and confessed that she knew she was dressing like a slut, but she couldn’t stop.  And she couldn’t even do her job anymore.  Nothing made sense.  She felt so *stupid*.
 
Evan held her while she cried - but as he did, he worked one hand between her legs, and under her panties, and began to finger her cunt, finding it wet and aroused from her shame.  She let him finger-rape her as she cried, until eventually she began to shake from a small but humiliating orgasm.
 
“I think you have to face the truth, Erika,” he told her.  “You’re dressing like a slut because you *are* a slut.  And you can’t do your job because you *are* stupid, and you’ve always been stupid.  But I’m glad you came to me, because the men in the office can help you.”
 
‘You can?” asked Erika, hope shining on her face.
 
“The first step is *admitting* you’re a cockteasing tramp,” said Evan.  “Dressing like that, you deserve to be raped.”  (He smiled as her face flushed, and her pussy began to throb again.)  “If you can’t stop dressing like that, you’re going to have to at least own up to the consequences.  Why don’t you start by sucking my cock?”
 
Erika looked confused, and dismayed, but he grabbed her hair, and forced her head down on his groin as he sat in the driver’s seat.  He unzipped his pants, and let Erica take his dick into her mouth, and then he used her hair as handles to bob her lips up and down on his member until he felt himself cumming down her spoiled, bitchy, brainless throat.
 
Afterwards, he wiped his cock clean on her face, thinking she looked pretty with a smear of cum across her cheek.
 
“Now, you’ll need to come into the office and apologise to the other men like that for being a bitch and a cocktease,” he told her.  “You can make up for the cockteasing with your mouth, just like you did for me.  For the bitchy way you’ve acted, they’ll probably want to spank your ass and your tits.”
 
She made a little murmur of unhappiness.  One hand moved to wipe the cum off her face, but he gripped her wrist to stop her.
 
“And as for your job,” he said, “it’s clear someone as stupid as you can’t do the managerial job, but we can take turns doing that for you.  And in return, you can handle some of our basic admin work, and make us coffee, and call us ‘sir’.  Do you think you can do that?”
 
Her face crinkled.  Her last resistance was fighting what he was saying.
 
“But I’m your boss,” she said.  “I’m an… I’m a…. “
 
A few days ago they had deleted the words “executive” and “manager” from her vocabulary.  Too many syllables.
 
“I’m a person in charge,” she said, lamely.
 
“Erika, you dumb slut,” said Evan, “you pathetic little bimbo, you can’t even remember the name of your job.  You’re a stupid little whore.  You just can’t do that work.  You know that.  Say it.  Say you’re a dumb slut.”
 
Erika whimpered - then said, quietly, “I’m a dumb slut.”
 
“I’m a dumb slut, sir,” corrected Evan.
 
“I’m a dumb slut, sir,” whispered Erika.
 
“Good girl,” said Evan, stroking her hair.
 
When they got to the work campus, the whole team went into Erika’s office and closed the blinds on the window.  They had Erika strip completely naked.  Then she went to each of her “subordinates”, and said, “I’m sorry for being such a cockteasing bimbo and such a dumb bitch.  Please punish me, and then cum in my mouth.”
 
Her delighted team members took turns beating her tits and spanking her ass, before pushing their cocks into her mouth and skullfucking her to orgasm.  Erika became an experienced cocksucker quickly, and while at first she was gagging and coughing, soon she was letting the tips of their cocks bang against the back of her throat without objection.
 
Afterwards, they used the device on her some more.  She forgot how to put on clothes, forever.  From now on whoever picked her up in the morning would choose her clothes, and help her dress in them.  She would be dependent on men to be able to wear anything at all.  And she forgot how to say “no” to men, or to resist them in any way at all.
 
They dressed her in sluttier clothes each day.  She would totter around the office in high heels, making them coffee and tea, doing their filing, calling them sir, and she would be grateful for it, because she knew she couldn’t do anything she was actually being paid for.  She would regularly apologise for being stupid and bitchy, and they would only accept her apology after they had beaten her and cum in her mouth.  
 
After a while, they got her to agree that it wasn’t fair that she was being paid an executive salary for being, basically, a secretary, and so they had her transfer her finances and property into an account they controlled - and then they made her forget how to interact with banks entirely, so that she would be dependent on whatever pocket money they deigned to give her.  
 
And she soon learned she earned that money by being a submissive, whorish cocksocket.  When she apologised to a man and they beat her tits and ejaculated in her mouth, they would give her ten dollars.  When they raped her in her house after driving her home at night, she would get a twenty.  If a man told a misogynistic joke at work, and Erika laughed at it honestly and loudly, they would give her a handful of coins, and when she did something that made *them* laugh because of what a stupid slut she was, she would get a handful more.
 
And whenever Erika did something to deliberately demean herself, they would discreetly point the device at her, and associate that feeling with happiness and security, until over time she was routinely encouraging everyone to treat her as a brainless fuckdoll.
 
The men carefully watched over Erika’s relationships outside of work, too, and were delighted to find that she was replicating this behaviour in those interactions too.  Soon she had alienated the friends who were most likely to respect her, and her only remaining acquaintances were those who enjoyed treating her like a sex object.  Many of them raped her, and Erika accepted that as a normal part of friendship, given how deeply she knew she deserved to be raped.
 
The day eventually came when the team had to come clean to management about the device.  There were too many questions about why a division head like Erika was dressing like a sex-doll and spending her time filing and making coffee.  And the deadline for results had finally come.
 
Evan, Franklin and Harry made the presentation to upper management.  The meeting started with having Erika strip naked and crawl under the tables to suck the cocks of all her superiors.  Then the men explained what they had done to her, and exactly what the device was capable of.  
 
“The local applications alone are staggering,” explained Evan.  “You can make every woman in this company forget that they deserve to be paid for their work.  You can make them forget how to complain about sexual harassment or overtime.  You can make them forget it’s not okay for their male co-workers to rape them on a whim, and you can make them forget that all of that isn’t a normal state of affairs.  You can even make them like it, if you want to.”
 
The men in management looked at each other and smiled.
 
“But even more than that,” Evan went on.  “This device was originally designed for medical use - but the military will pay far more for it.  This device will make this company exceptionally wealthy.”
 
And it did.
 
Every member of Erika’s former team was promoted to a management position.  Erika was formally fired, but allowed to stay on as an unpaid intern to perform secretarial work for Evan (and unofficially act as his stress ball and office whore).  Each of the other members of the team took a position formerly occupied by a woman, and they each got to keep that woman as their brainwashed secretary and sex-slave.
 
And Evan chose, finally, to explain to Erika what had been done to her, speaking to her as she knelt before him with her tits exposed for a beating.  He had to use words of less than three syllables, of course, so that she would understand it.  And when the look of horror and betrayal bloomed across her face, he used the device on her to alter those reactions.  
 
“No, Erika, it wasn’t a horrible act of abuse,” he told her, as he shoved his cock into her mouth.  “After all, you deserved it, didn’t you?  In fact, you should be grateful this was done to you.  You should thank me.”
 
And her eyes crossed briefly.
 
And when she tried to say “thank you, sir, for making me stupid”, with her mouth still full of cock, because she was too stupid to realise she would only make incoherent slut noises, he laughed, and grabbed her hair, and used her for the only thing that she was now good for.
 
(END)
 
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