The Female Intelligence Project
Story by All These Roadworks (2021)
Author's note: My kinks aren't my politics. Please support safety, respect, and opportunity for women, along with positive enthusiastic consent.
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It was supposed to be the shining gem of the university’s neuroscience division - the Female Intelligence Project, an expansive exploration into the mysteries of the female brain, funded by significant endowments from feminist lobby groups, headed by young, attractive, brilliant Dr Michelle Mayweather, and supported by a team of equally bright young female scientists.
The idea was simple. It had long been understood that men and women learned in fundamentally different ways. The goal of the project was to document the mechanisms by which the female brain learned, and leverage them to help women learn faster and better, and become brighter and better educated.
It took a year for the breakthrough to come, but when it did, it was the most exciting moment of Dr Mayweather’s life. They had been studying how pitch, volume, colour, light, body chemistry, and a range of other factors impacted the ability of women to learn, and by synthesising this information, Dr Mayweather had hit on a technique that made it possible to teach a woman a semester’s worth of university content in only a single hour, by bypassing her conscious brain and imprinting it directly in her memory and subconscious.
Unfortunately, testing it was a problem. The ethics committee wanted nothing to do with any project that directly altered the human brain, and without the ethics committee, she couldn’t get approval for volunteers or experimental protocols.
In the end, she decided the only thing for it was to run the first test on herself. She queued up a teaching pattern which would teach her an introductory course in the Portuguese language, and then went home for the night, intending to run the test in the morning.
However, she did not leave the lab empty. A young male student named Boland was working at a distant desk. It was not unusual for him to be forgotten by the women working on the project. He was only present as a diversity hire - because Dr Mayweather had been told she couldn’t recruit exclusively women without breaching employment law. He had been allowed onto the project, to give him course credit in his neuropsychology course - but he had been immediately relegated to the far corner of the laboratory and given make-work of no real significance.
It was a mistake, because Boland understood Dr Mayweather’s discovery better than she did herself. He had read all her reports and notes as she released them, and jumped to the conclusions about a teaching device shortly before Michelle did. But no one was interested in hearing from the man in the room, and his input had been disregarded.
It was also a mistake because Boland was angry about all this. He thought Michelle Mayweather was a jumped-up big-titted cow who didn’t deserve to walk upright and wear clothes, let alone run a prestigious science project.
And so after Dr Mayweather left, he walked over to the computer controlling her new learning machine, and began to design an entirely new teaching course. He called this course “The Definition of a Better Woman”, and he saved it over the top of the original Portuguese course.
When Dr Mayweather came in the next morning, all the women in the lab gathered around and watched as she sat in the Teaching Chair, lowered the Sensory Helmet over her head, and activated the teaching course. They waited for an hour as the helmet hummed into her ears, and flashed lights at her, and when the hour was up, they raised the helmet, and Michelle stood, slightly wobbling.
“Como você está se sentindo?” asked Adriana, a pretty brown-skinned Brazilian student.
Michelle only shook her head. “It didn’t work,” she said. “I don’t know Portuguese. Not any.” Without seeming to realise she was doing it, her fingers played with the top button on her dress, popping it open, exposing a generous cleavage.
“Do you want to try again?” asked Katy, a slim brunette.
“Yes, but not on me,” said Michelle. “Do you want to try it, Katy?”
Katy did, and she went under the machine too - but to no better result. When Katy was done, Dr Mayweather suggested that blonde, buxom Desiree try it, and then freckled red-headed Erica. They even had Adriana try it in the end, even though she already knew Portuguese. Not a one learned any new languages, but Boland, watching from the corner, watched with satisfaction as each began to adjust her hemlines upwards, expose more cleavage, pout and push her tits forwards following exposure to the machine.
While Desiree was under the machine, Dr Mayweather made her way to Boland’s desk, looking uncertain.
“Boland,” she said awkwardly. “Do you find me attractive?”
“Not as much as I would if you showed more of your tits,” said Boland.
“Oh,” said Michelle. And then, “I’m sorry.” She fiddled with her blouse, opening another button, displaying much of her bra.
“That’s a good start,” said Boland.
“And…” said Michelle, “... do you approve of me?” She looked really anxious, like she needed to hear him say “yes”.
“No,” said Boland, and watched her face fall into desperate unhappiness.
“Why?” she asked. And, “I’m sorry.”
“You’re very stupid,” said Boland. “I’m much better than you at designing teaching programs. If you had me choose the programs and design them, I’m sure your machine would work properly, and I might approve of you a little.”
Michelle swallowed. “But it’s my project,” she said, “and you’re…”
“Are you *arguing* with me?” asked Boland sharply.
“No, sir!” said Michelle immediately. “I’m sorry. You should design the teaching programs, absolutely.”
“Good,” said Boland. “Tell the girls that I’m going to be designing a new teaching course for testing each morning, and I expect every woman in the lab to receive the course by the end of the day.”
He saw a desperate worry pass across her face. Part of her was trying to fight this. But she had just been taught, at a deep and subliminal level, that the definition of a “better woman” was one that did what men told her to, one that was attractive to men, one that helped other women be “better women”, and one that did whatever it took for men to approve of her. And she had just spent a year of her life fixated on the idea of creating “better women”.
“Yes, sir,” she said finally, and slunk away.
The next day at the lab, Boland was delighted to see an immediate change in the women. Everyone was wearing shorter and sexier skirts, and tighter shirts that showed more cleavage. Erica - feminist, drab, possibly-lesbian Erica - was even wearing high heels and lipstick.
But Boland wasn’t going to be satisfied with just short skirts and cleavage for these bitches, who had excluded and minimised him all the past year. He intended to go much further.
“All right, girls,” said Dr Mayweather uncertainly. She had gone without underwear entirely today, for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, but knowing instinctively that Boland would approve of her decision. “Boland has written us a new teaching unit to test, and I think he’d approve of us very much if we each tried it out. It’s called ‘Women’s Fashion in the Laboratory’.”
This time Michelle made the other girls take the course first, supervising them, before going under herself.
Boland had been very busy shopping last night at all-night outlet stores, and assembled a small pile of small clothes in what he hoped were the right sizes for the women. And sure enough, no sooner had big-titted Desiree completed the course than she was whimpering with unhappiness. Good women - *better* women - stayed fashionable, she now knew, and she also knew - in a way that she would discover couldn’t be displaced by any information to the contrary - that the only acceptable fashion for women working in a laboratory was a tight thong, stiletto heels, a small black choker with the word “SLUT” on it, a lab coat open down the front - and nothing else.
Boland gave Desiree her heels, choker and thong, and watched her run away to the female toilets, emerging shortly afterwards as no longer a scientist, but rather a slutty porn parody of one. Her giant tits, now completely bare, were as erotic as he had hoped. She tottered unsteadily on the ridiculously high heels. The thong was actually a little too small, and the crotch had vanished lewdly between her labia. The lab coat was completely capable of being closed in front, but Desiree had carefully left it spread to either side of her tits.
Adriana was currently under the teaching unit, but Erica said - in a voice that wasn’t very sure of herself - “Desiree, what are you doing? Why are you dressed like a whore?”
But before Desiree could answer, Boland simply said, “I approve of the way she’s dressed,” and that was the end of the matter. One by one the girls took the course, and changed into their slutty new outfits. In fact, Dr Mayweather ended up taking her thong and collar even before she had had the course, desperate to get the same approval her students were receiving.
Erica - now converted to the necessity of her slutty new outfit - looked at Boland and said, anxiously, “Do you think it’s okay to change into this outfit when we get to the lab, and change out before we leave for home?”
Boland returned her gaze levelly. “What do you think?” he asked. And sure enough, at the end of the day, the women all left without making any effort to change or cover their tits. Most would be driving home, but he knew Erica caught the public transport, and he decided to catch the same train as her, just to watch her humiliation as everyone stared at her and catcalled her. She may have learned what fashion demanded, but she hadn’t learned anything about finding it less embarrassing.
To Boland’s disappointment, Erica wasn’t physically molested or raped on that particular trip. But he figured it was only a matter of time.
They came back the next day, blushing, bare-titted. Boland had a new course ready for them.
“This one is called ‘Female Behaviour’,” announced Michelle to her students.
“I don’t want to do this,” said Katy unhappily. “I’m so embarrassed dressing like this. I know it’s the fashion and I know I need to follow it, but I wish I’d never learned about it. I had to stop on the way home at a supermarket and a woman called me a whore, and a man groped by cunt while I was lining up at the checkout.”
“Katy,” said Michelle unhappily. “Do you want men to disapprove of you? Do you want *Boland* to disapprove of you?”
“No…” said Katy.
And so the women learned “Female Behaviour”.
This course was simple. Women should always be aroused. If they weren’t aroused, or had nothing better to do, they should think slutty thoughts and rub their pussy, no matter where they were. But they shouldn’t orgasm without permission from a man. They should greet men by saying, “May I kiss your cock?” and then kneel and do so, if allowed - through the man’s pants if he didn’t expose his cock, or with a quick suckle on the tip of his dick if he did. They should do nothing to resist groping, harassment, molestation or rape - they didn’t have to like it, just not resist. If they were molested, raped, harassed or degraded, they should say, “Thank you,” and feel genuine gratitude. If they were with another woman and a man was watching, and they had no other task to do, they should lez off with her for the man’s entertainment.
As each girl finished the training, she would get up off the Training Chair, walk unsteadily over to Boland and ask if she could kiss his cock. The answer was invariably “yes”, and he loved the feeling of these once stuck-up bitches suckling at his dick.
By the time it was Michelle’s turn - the last of the women to receive today’s training - he could no longer restrain himself. When she put her lips on his cock, he grabbed her hair, and pulled her face forward, burying his cock all the way to the balls in her throat. She gagged, but didn’t struggle, and he happily face-raped her as her students watched. None of them objected to what he was doing. In fact, they were all masturbating, and Erica and Adriana were sharing a slutty lesbian kiss, rubbing their tits against each other.
When he finally orgasmed, filling Dr Mayweather’s mouth with his cum, he pulled his cock out of her and wiped it clean on her cheek. “Thank you,” she said, in a hoarse, broken voice, and he saw real gratitude in her eyes.
They had come to the laboratory that morning as porn-actress scientists; they went home as sex toys. Erica *was* raped that night, by a man who followed her home from the train after watching her blushingly masturbating for the entire trip. Adriana had the most humiliating moment of her life when she went to her parents’ house for dinner and asked her own father if she could kiss his cock.
They came back to the lab the next day, and this time it was Katy’s face that he raped, for daring to suggest yesterday that their education should stop. She thanked him as his cum drooled from her mouth onto her exposed tits.
To his endless amusement, Boland overheard a conversation between Erica and Desiree in which they discussed other women who hadn’t had the same training as them. “How can they bear to be so disappointing?” asked Erica. “It’s so *rude* not to ask men if you can kiss their cock.”
“Some of them don’t even keep their cunts wet,” hissed Desiree. “Last night my sister Taylor came over and the bitch actually criticised me for masturbating in front of her, as if that wasn’t just the polite thing to do to keep my cunt wet. Someone should teach her a lesson.”
“*We* should teach her a lesson,” said Erica. “With the machine…”
But it turned out to be Adriana who rebelled this time, when it came time for the day’s lessons.
“Please, Dr Mayweather,” she said. “I don’t want any more lessons. I’m a feminist. These things we’re learning - I know they’re true, but they’re *embarrassing*. I feel slutty. I came here because I wanted to see feminism represented in science…”
“Well, then, I have good news,” said Michelle. “The lesson Boland has made for us today is called ‘Feminism’.” Her face had a look of barely suppressed terror as she said this, but she followed it up with, “Boland will approve of us learning this one,” and that was the end of the argument.
At the end of the day, when all the girls had taken their course in “Feminism”, Boland suggested they all sit around in a circle and talk about what they had learned today.
Desiree, bare-titted and masturbating, giggled, and volunteered to go first. “Women are stupid,” he said, and the other girls all nodded and agreed.
“My consent is irrelevant,” volunteered Adriana, and there was much nodding again.
“Women are objects,” suggested Katy. “We’re not people.”
(“I don’t know how I went my whole life without learning that!” said Adriana. “This teaching device is so wonderful…”)
“Rape is a compliment,” said Erica, blushing as she remembered her raping of last night.
“My body is not mine to control,” said Michelle, her face flushed, rubbing her pussy. “Contraception isn’t my decision. Pregnancy is my problem exclusively.”
“The reason women’s sexual areas are sensitive is to allow men to cause them pain,” said Desiree, squeezing her tits tightly.
“Women are worthless at any time that a man isn’t cumming into them,” said Adriana.
“The degradation of women is funny,” suggested Katy, and everyone laughed in agreement.
“If I displease a man, even without knowing it, I deserve to be punished,” said Erica.
“Men are always right and women are always wrong,” concluded Michelle.
There was much cheering and clapping at this. The girls all were delighted by what they had learned today, and that they had finally used the machine to improve their knowledge of feminism rather than to just embarrass them. They thanked Boland for his help, and left for their respective homes.
Erica - who was indeed a lesbian - had a date with a hot girl she’d met a week ago. But she was late getting to it, as she was raped on her way home again. When she got there, she began feeling uncomfortable talking to the pretty girl she was meeting with, uncomfortable at the idea that this girl had never been fucked by a man, and she ended up inviting the girl home, drugging her into unconsciousness, and then inviting her male neighbour over to rape the sleeping slut while Erica masturbated. She knew what she was doing was very wrong - but it was also very right, and when her pussy was this wet she didn’t have to think about it.
Katy was dating her existing boyfriend that evening, who was very pleased when Katy offered to kiss his cock, and even more pleased when Katy started to hesitantly explain her theories on feminism to him - that her consent was irrelevant, that he should punish her when she displeased him, that her tits and cunt only existed to be hurt. Soon he was roughly and painfully fucking her in ways that Katy had never permitted before and Katy, teary and humiliated, was thanking him desperately.
Adriana’s father visited her that night without warning, all by himself, and when Adriana reluctantly asked if she could kiss his cock, he took out his cock and let her, before facefucking her, stripping her nude, and raping her over her own lounge. “Thank you, daddy,” said Adriana as her father ejaculated into her pussy.
Desiree just spent the evening in the kitchen. She opened the cutlery drawer, took out the assorted knives, forks, and spoons. Then she lowered her large tits into the drawer - and slammed it shut on them. The pain felt good - well-deserved, because she knew she was worthless because no man was ejaculating into her right there and then. She masturbated, and slammed the drawer on her tits again and again, until nice purple bruises began to rise to remind her what her breasts were good for.
But Dr Mayweather asked Boland to stay in the lab, as she had something to discuss with him. Boland agreed, subject to bending Michelle over one of the workbenches and raping her tight, wet cunt for the first time. Once he had filled her with his cum, he asked her what she wanted.
“I’ve kept up my work,” she said, “to create a better woman. And I’ve reached a kind of paradox…”
“Yes?” asked Boland.
“Men prefer women to be stupid - and we *are* stupid,” said Michelle, believing it with every fabric of her being. “But men also want women to be able to perform useful tasks, research ways to degrade themselves, and not require constant male supervision.”
“That’s true,” said Boland. “It *is* a quandary.”
“I was wondering,” said Michelle, “if we could write a program that more directly puts women’s intelligence at the command of men.”
So they worked together on it through the night, and when they were done, Boland raped Michelle again, subjected her to the course, and sent her home, And the next day they implemented it for the other girls.
It was a simple lesson - that women were only smart when a man told them they were. Once it was done, all five women were nothing but giggly, silly sluts, gazing up at Boland in adoration.
“Okay girls,” he said to them. “You’re as smart as you can possibly be, right here in this lab, while working on ways to degrade women so as to make them better. And the rest of the time, and in relation to any other subject, you’re stupid whores. Your internal monologue retains enough intelligence at all times to be aware of and embarrassed by your stupidity.”
He watched the lights switch on in their brain - and the shame with it.. It was quite delightful. And they went to work on ways to humiliate their own gender.
Over the following days he wrote many other courses for them. A course entitled “Shame” made them more aware of how slutty all their behaviour was, and made them feel additional humiliation and shame from exposing themselves, from sucking cock, from lezzing off with other girls, from being raped. It also allowed them to become aroused by that shame.
“General Fashion” gave them a new look outside the office - one designed to provoke anyone who saw them to rape. It required them all to go get implanted with big fake tits; to wear nipple clamps, clit clamps, and butt-plugs as a new normal; to wear clothes outdoors that would look slutty in a brothel, let alone on public streets, including mesh outfits, crotchless underwear with nothing over it, microbikinis that vanished between their cunt lips, tight ropes binding the base of their tits, or slutty kitten or bunny outfits that concealed nothing.
“Female Nutrition” taught them that a healthy diet required consuming a certain amount of cum, breast milk, spit, piss, and cunt juice each week.
“Attracting Attention” taught them to cocktease men - the less they wanted to fuck the man, the more outrageous they would be.
And “Sisterhood” taught them to blackmail and rape other women and - importantly - bring them back to the lab to receive “lessons”. Slowly, the girls began to convert their sisters, mothers, and friends to their new brand of “feminism”, and Boland sampled the majority of these by raping them.
By the end of two months, each of the five scientists had been raped dozens of times, and all five of them were pregnant - Adriana with her own father’s child.
“Well, you clearly can’t continue on with this project while pregnant,” said Boland. “You’re going to have to forfeit your degrees and academic positions and drop out of the university.”
The girls moaned, but didn’t disagree.
“But luckily I’ve set up a row of dog cages in my garage,” said Boland. “And you can all move in with me there as my live-in fucktoys. How do you feel about that?”
“Thank you,” said Adriana, masturbating.
“Thank you,” said Erica, Desiree and Michelle, also masturbating.
Katy didn’t say anything, as she already had his cock in her mouth.
“And Michelle, I think you should recommend that I take over this project,” he said. “I think it’s ready to go large-scale, and I think I’m the correct person to take credit for that, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” said Michelle. “I’m very stupid so I don’t know why I was in charge to start with.”
“Good slut,” said Boland. “And how is your backup project going, Michelle?”
“It’s almost finished, sir,” she said. “Soon we can deploy it. It’s a radio-wave, you see, sir. We can broadcast it over the entire city. It’s the exact opposite of the teaching machine, because it *stops* women learning anything about any subject we encode into it. It will just go in one ear and out the other. So we can entirely prevent women learning about feminism, rights, consent….”
Boland thought, without exaggeration, that the Female Intelligence Project was likely to turn out to be the most important development in the entire history of the human race. He ejaculated into Katy’s mouth, slapped her for fun, and sighed happily.
“I fucking love science,” he said.