Think About Your Tits

 

It seemed a terrible shame to Samuel that his co-worker Mary, who had such wonderful big tits, was merely an annoying bitch instead of the large-uddered fucktoy she was clearly born to be.  He felt she needed a reorientation, one that would prevent her from being a difficult bint, and keep her fully focused on the availability of her fuckmelons.

 

So he planted a simple low-grade hypnotic tool in her office workstation, that worked by strobing the colour frequencies on her screen and flashing small messages at subliminal speeds.  Each message implanted a trigger and a thought in her mind. 

 

There were only three messages, each connected to a single thought:

 

 

 

 

The triggers ranged over various subjects.  Each one was designed so that when she saw or heard it, the three phases would play through her mind with the force of a command.  He programmed her to be triggered by the image of a cow, or the words “cow” or ”milk” or “udders”.  He had her triggered by the words “melon”, “pillow”, “decoration”, “toy”, ”globe”, ”orb”, and “punching bag”.  He had her triggered by seeing any large-breasted woman.  He had her triggered by being called names like “slut”, “whore” or “bitch”.  And lastly he had her triggered by feeling the emotion of anger

 

He let her go a full month with those triggers, becoming visibly more distracted and aroused at work each day, unconsciously touching and squeezing her tits more and more often, the damp stains of arousal on the crotch of her skirt becoming more and more obvious, before he finally found her working late, alone, in the office one night, and said, cruelly and deliberately, “How are you doing, you stupid bitch?” 

 

He watched her face flush crimson with anger, and then an entirely different expression come over her as her anger was pushed out of her brain by an overwhelming urge to think about her tits.  She looked confused, trying to remember what she had been about to say, as her hands began to idly squeeze her huge funbags.

 

“What a good cow you are,” he told her, and heard her moan in humiliation and arousal. “You’re a slut, and good sluts are stupid and obedient, aren’t they?”

 

She nodded unhappily.

 

“Now pull down your top and take out those ridiculous udders of yours,” he told her.  “We’re going to do a little photo shoot to share around the office tomorrow, and if you’re very lucky we might end it with me cumming all over your melons...”

 

(END)