#corporate mind control

[subliminalbo]

Hypnovember Day 12: Return To Office

Shelby knew that she was selling out taking a job at Futurum, but her guilt only lasted as long as it took to receive the first paycheck. Her punk rock English professor spirit may have been broken, but principles were not going to pay her bills.

Her first contract only lasted through the summer. Shelby returned to work at Carpenter State when fall semester resumed, with the door left open to return in a contingent capacity at Futurum if she ever wanted to make some extra money. And then the pandemic changed everything. When Shelby returned to Futurum the following summer, her role was 100% work from home. She had expected to do more grant writing, but her new supervisor saw potential for Shelby on a new top secret project that they were calling Athena.

This time her contract flew by, even though she continued teaching at Carpenter State for a brief portion of the contract before it ended. Once again, Shelby's supervisors at Futurum were impressed with her work and left the door open for future projects.

It did seem odd to Shelby in the days following her exit interview that she could recall so little of the work she did for Futurum, but ultimately she chose not to raise a concern to anybody. If she needed to remember, she would have. It must have not been essential to her duties.

The next summer when Shelby applied for a new contract, she received a phone call from the hiring manager informing her that that year's assignment would be in-office only. Work from home had grown on Shelby, and though it bummed her out to turn down Futurum, she decided that she'd rather find a role as a grant writer someplace that would let her work remotely.

And then the sound cut through the line. It was a long, shearing sound, sort of like a knife dragging down a chalkboard. A sound that Shelby had heard many times before, every day when she would log onto her laptop for work. A sound which she could not remember.

Her mind was empty. The hiring manager asked her to repeat her sequence.

"Echo. Data breach. Whale. Dictaphone. Groundbreaking. Clockwork. Omega," Shelby intoned before she confirmed her name and number and accepted the job offer.

When Shelby arrived at Futurum for her first day, she found that the culture in the office had been completely transformed. The long rows of cubicles were still there, but the constant friendly chatter among coworkers over their walls was completely gone. Every individual employee was totally locked in to their tasks. The floors were silent save for the clatter of keys being stroked at a rate that must have been higher than a hundred words per minute. The most bizarre change of all was that nobody had a name anymore. They all answered to numbers.

Shelby didn't question any of it by the time she reached the floor. She'd already been buzzed, repeated her sequence, and fallen under the control that Futurum had established during her second assignment working on the project that was actually called The Conditioning Initiative. Shelby, or No. 14 as she was referred to by her employers, was led to the office of No. 1, who rose from his seat to greet her.

"We are pleased to have you back," No. 1 said. "As you can see, The Conditioning Initiative has been a massive success to employee metrics and your work last summer in developing the program was invaluable to its success."

No. 14 smiled, proud to hear that she was, in some small way, responsible for the conditioning of everyone out on the floor.

"Thank you, No. 1," No. 14 said. "An efficient workplace is a happy work place."

"That is the consensus from Futurum shareholders," No. 1 replied.

After some very brief small talk, No. 1 led No. 14 down the hall toward Classified Research where she would be doing most of work during this assignment. He explained her new role as they walked.

"Now that we've completed the rollout of The Conditioning Initiative to the floor, our focus is shifting to reliability and efficiency. With the first phase of the initiative we found success in simple light displays, subliminals, and sound triggers. However, our researchers believe that stimulation is the most promising avenue for advancement."

No. 1 scanned his clearance card and pushed through the two wide double doors that marked the entrance to Classified Research. No. 14 followed, marveling at what she found in the next rooms. No. 1 led her down a long, bright room lined with chairs similar to the ones you might find at the dentist. Each chair had a nude human subject strapped into it, their feet in stirrups. The subjects were a mix of male and female. Each one had odd, mechanical devices fastened over their vaginas or penises which No. 14 would later learn from her own experience were pleasure units designed to deliver automatic sexual stimulation. Bulky, noise cancelling headphones covered their ears and visors strapped to their heads covered their eyes.

The sound of dozens of moans bouncing off the walls replaced the keystrokes she'd heard outside.

No. 14 drooled at the thought of what the subjects were seeing, hearing, feeling. She almost squealed when No. 1 led her to an empty chair at the end of the row and indicated that it was her turn to disrobe.

"Of course, Controller," No. 14 said, stripping down before her boss.

"The Pleasure Method takes longer, but we've found its effects are far more profound. We actually discovered the method from an incident on campus, but the technology is better in our hands."

"Of course, Controller," No. 14 repeated, climbing into the chair to be fitted with her own pleasure unit.

[oliversrarebooks]

corporate retreat part 1 / 4

I went into a fugue state and wrote nine thousand words about an overworked corporate drone being brainwashed for their own good.

Masterlist > Next

tw: brainwashing, conditioning, dehumanization, drugging, humiliation, hypnosis, restraints,  corporate culture, weight insecurity mentioned, a little kinky

"Welcome to the Brainwashing Department! You must be today's test subject. We're happy to have you!"

Quinn stared in disbelief at the receptionist's guileless and strangely familiar smile. "You're awfully cheerful about this, aren't you?"

"Well, I love my job," he said without the slightest trace of malevolence. "As I'm sure you know, the Brainwashing Department is critically important to the organization. Without us, we wouldn't have sleeper agents, puppet politicians, memory erasure... and it's interesting work, too. No two subjects are the same." He glanced at Quinn's badge and then at their face. "Say, I recognize you. You're from IT, aren't you? You're the one who always unlocks my laptop when I forget my password!"

Oh, shit, that's where they remembered this guy. Quinn wasn't sure what they found more mortifying: the fact that they'd been recognized, or the idea of letting a guy who obviously didn't know how to work a laptop be in charge of human minds. Maybe he'd been a test subject, and it affected his brain... although considering what Quinn had signed up for, that wasn't at all comforting.

"Yeah, I'm from IT," said Quinn. "Can we get started? I'd prefer to get this over with."

The receptionist laughed. "You seem like you could use a vacation. Good thing you're here. No better vacation than a vacation from your thoughts, right?" He pushed a button on his phone. "Dr. Moon, your test subject has arrived."

Quinn played with their phone and tried not to look like an anxious wreck as they waited for the doctor. This was such an awful idea, but they didn't have much of a choice. 

---

"You used to be my favorite minion. I hate to see your potential go down the drain, and I'd really, really hate to have to put you on a performance improvement plan," their boss had said. "You know, just because we're in the business of underground supervillainy doesn't mean we don't value our employees' mental health. You should take a vacation, recharge yourself."

"I'm out of PTO," said Quinn.

Their boss leaned over her desk with a frightening look in her eye. "Have you happened to see the fliers the Brainwashing Department has been posting?"

Oh, they didn't like where this was headed. "The ones looking for compliant test subjects? The ones promising a $5000 bonus and a month of PTO?"

"Exactly! Doesn't that solve your problem?"

"The month of PTO is just the month you spend as their brainwashed test subject."

"Details," she said with a handwave. "You get PTO and a chance to relax --"

"-- by being drugged and hypnotized out of my skull --"

"--and you'll come back refreshed and ready to work."

"Presumably because you'll get them to brainwash me to be a better employee."

"See, everyone wins!" she said. "I highly recommend that you volunteer."

And that was that. Quinn certainly didn't have the clout to argue, especially when they were at risk of being at the bottom of the stack ranking. You didn't want to get stack ranked in this organization. It usually involved poison in your cafeteria rations.

---

"Quinn? You're a volunteer for brainwashing testing, right?"

Quinn looked up to see a middle-aged woman wearing the aquamarine jumpsuit of the higher-status employees, along with a lab coat and a pair of enormous round glasses. Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she had a strangely warm smile given her profession. 

"I'm Quinn, and yeah."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Dr. Moon," she said, holding out her hand for a shake, and her hands felt warm as well. "Thank you for volunteering. It's critically important that we have adequate testing subjects for refining our process, before we have to use the techniques on important targets. So many employees are frightened of our department, even though our work is really quite pleasant. You don't have anything to worry about, though. I promise that your mind is good hands here."

"Good to know," they said. "Hopefully I can give you some good data." It really wasn't the competency of the Brainwashing Department that worried them -- they'd seen their results firsthand. If anything, they were perhaps a little too competent.

"I'm sure your data will be invaluable. Now, if you could follow me..." She turned and swiped her keycard at the double doors next to the reception desk, ushering Quinn inside.

They stood in a short, sterile, and blindingly white hallway with several doors on each side and another large set of double glass doors at the end. "Those doors lead to the primary brainwashing floor," Dr. Moon said, gesturing to the end of the hallway. "But first, I'm going to have you go into one of our prep rooms." 

She slid her keycard on one of the side doors, which opened up to a small room with some lockers, a shower, and a bench. "Put your uniform and any personal effects -- except your glasses and anything medically necessary -- in the locker. Then, take a shower using the provided soap and dress in the clothes you find in the locker. Make sure you clip your identification tag to the gown, so we don't lose you."

"Wouldn't want that to happen."

"When you're done, just press the button and I'll be back to guide you to the next phase," she said. "Take your time. We're in no hurry."

Quinn shut the door behind them. They stripped off their sneakers, a pair of socks adorned with little green alien heads, and the gray jumpsuit that marked their middling status in the organization. The hot water felt great as they stepped into the shower, and the soap was pleasantly scented with lavender. It would've been relaxing if the shower hadn't given them a chance to be alone with their own thoughts.

Were they really going through with this? They could've told their boss no, but that would've just ended badly. The terms of the test subject agreement guaranteed that the process would be reversed at the end, but it wasn't like they trusted that. They knew what the Brainwashing Department was capable of. They could wipe any memories they didn't want them to have, they could implant suggestions of being more loyal and eager to work, they could humiliate them in so many ways, they could simply leave them brainwashed permanently... 

Quinn sighed. This was absolutely going to suck, but there was no use worrying. It wasn't like they were going to turn back now.

The provided outfit was a soft blue cotton hospital gown and padded socks. They were quite comfortable, but made Quinn feel entirely too exposed and vulnerable without their familiar jumpsuit. The badge they clipped to the gown had their name, picture, subject number, and a series of codes designating the brainwashing procedures they were going to undergo. Quinn didn't know enough about the department's work to know what the codes meant.

They pressed the button.

A few minutes later, Dr. Moon entered the room. "I hope you had a nice shower. Let's get you into the other room to do a few necessary checks."

The next room was a bit like a doctor's office. "I'll need you to stand on that scale, please," said Quinn.

"Is that really necessary?" They fucking hated this part of the doctor's visit.

"It's not for judgement or shaming, really! We just need accurate weight to make sure the medication dosage is correct. It's for your own safety. You don't even need to look."

Somehow, even the idea of being weighed for brainwashing drugs was preferable to being shamed again. They didn't look as they stood on the scale, and Dr. Moon made no comment.

"Now, if you'll sit on the table for a minute, please," she said. "Let me just check your breathing... your eyes and ears..."

Quinn sat as still as they could as Dr. Moon pressed a stethoscope to their chest and shined a light in their eyes, but they couldn't keep their knee from bouncing.

"Any vision or hearing problems, other than your need for glasses?"

"No."

"Any disabilities we should be aware of? Here in the Brainwashing Department, we pride ourselves on our commitment to diversity. We'll adjust our procedures to accommodate any disability, mental or physical, to ensure that everyone can safely and easily fall under our control."

"Uh. Not that I know of." Quinn most certainly was not going to spill their mental health difficulties to this woman. She'd probably have access to all of Quinn's secrets soon enough... ugh, they'd rather not think about that.

"All right, then. If you're ready, I can lead you to the brainwashing floor and we can get started on your procedure."

"I'm not sure I can be any more ready than I am right now, so..."

"I know it must seem nerve-wracking, but trust me, once we get started you won't be worried at all."

"That doesn't especially ease my worries."

They followed Dr. Moon through the double doors and into the main brainwashing floor. Here, thirty of the organization's brainwashing devices were arranged in neat rows, big plush reclining chairs with restraints and screens and medical tools. They were all currently occupied by people of all ages and types undergoing procedures. Most of the people were half-asleep and watching hypnotic screens, mouthing words under their breath, hooked up to gas tanks and IV lines containing the drug cocktails that made them docile and malleable. Some were being induced, surrounded by staff monitoring their vitals as they went under. Others had a staff member drilling commands into their minds. One woman at the back was thrashing and fighting as the department staff wrangled her into restraints and into a mask.

Quinn had long been desensitized to the brainwashing floor. After all, when you worked for an organization like this one, morals flew out the window with your first paycheck. The work they did was necessary to keep the organization going, and honestly less messy and more humane than some of the other departments. Quinn had had to come here plenty of times to help troubleshoot problems with the machines, and had swiftly learned to tune out the droning hypnotic inductions and sounds of quiet struggle.

But it certainly hit differently now that Quinn knew they were destined for one of the devices. They couldn't help but imagine themselves in a chair, watching a hypnotic screen with a dazed smile and glassy eyes. The idea made their skin crawl with the fear they'd been shoving aside until now. They hated the idea of not being in control, and especially the idea of other people seeing them helpless and vulnerable. But that fate was now inevitable. They weren't kidding themselves about their ability to resist. Dr. Moon would probably turn them into a drooling, tranced-out mess by lunchtime.

At least they'd get some good sleep for a change. Chemically-induced sleep with a side of mind warping, sure, but sleep nonetheless.

Masterlist > Next

[cosmicportal]

🪲

[loudlittleecho]

Too Late to Save Them: Frozen in Time

Previous

Part 5

Forever Ice

F.I.

A company that has its hands in commercial and medical. 

An insulated cup that keeps your drinks cold? In perpetuity?

An insulated container that keeps your medicine cold, without refrigeration? Helpful for the unhoused and migratory? Keeps donated organs cold during travel. Supports medical supplies and food supplies to war torn countries.

Makes Nathan millions. 

No other company can replicate his Forever Ice. 

Many try. Many fail. 

Nathan reaps the rewards of a good businessman.

His company has grown, and so many want their hands in his stock. 

His investors want to know the secret. They want him to duplicate his ice and have more of it available. (He tried; but the ice will only grow back after some is split from the main source. . . the boy. It won’t grow on its own. He did think about. . . splitting the child, but even he wasn’t that inhumane).

The world had developed and changed drastically from when he was a child. 

World ending threats and superhuman aliens existed.

He should have accounted for someone wanting his ice. . . for using unsavory means to get it. 

As he stared at the assassin in front of him, he attempted to bargain. To pay him not to kill him. 

The masked man shook his head. 

“If only it was that simple.”

- - - 

Nathan’s body moved. Nathan’s body spoke. Nathan’s body performed decent enough for no one to realize that it wasn’t Nathan controlling it. 

Meanwhile Nathan begged and cried out in his mind as his body was piloted by someone using a chip embedded deeply in his brain. 

The one controlling Nathan made him transfer funds to an undisclosed account. The one controlling Nathan made him break into the Ice. Made Nathan see the boy again. 

Observe with his eyes as the frost built up and covered the boy in ice. 

And again, this time with specialized equipment. 

The one controlling Nathan made him warm up a bit of the boy's arm; to put in a specialized syringe. To pull out his blood.

The one controlling Nathan made him watch as the boy shivered lightly, before the frost built up around him again. 

The one controlling Nathan sent the vial away. 

The one controlling Nathan had him repeat this process over the course of months. 

The one controlling Nathan got along with his workers; his friends; his family.

No one noticed anything was wrong. 

Nathan was trapped in a living hell.

- - -

Darla’s boss was a good man. He owned the company, but he always made time to talk to every employee at Forever Ice. 

Darla was part of the night security. Nathan would strike up and keep up conversations with every member of staff, staying personable and down to earth. It wasn’t often she was offered (and good-humoredly reminded) to call a CEO by their first name. He made sure they had competitively good pay and benefits, and asked about their lives and families, and remembered what they said! 

Nathan Anderson was a good man. 

- - -

Tim had paused looking into the company for a month, but he was back at it now. 

Forever Ice had. . . inconsistencies about its creation. In the published history of the company it stated that the unique material was created by Nathan Anderson, a Wisconsin native who was also the head of the company. 

However Mr. Anderson’s education history was in business. He had an abysmal employment history, often jumping in on frankly embarrassing inventions and companies that had no chance of success. However, he seemed fairly charismatic and seemed to have found his ‘Golden Goose’. 

Now, having a formal education was not necessary for success. (Tim was the poster child for that). Unless Anderson was hiding a great intellect- and a lab- this wasn’t his own creation. 

Tim paused. Anderson could have created it. Not by science, but perhaps by his own biology?

Was this a metahuman using his…abilities… to make a profit? (Wouldn’t be the first)

However, there were plenty of groups that liked to stop that kind of thing. 

Tim sighed. So far everything seemed to be working fine for Anderson. 

He filled out a report documenting the company and added it to the ‘possible concerns’ folder for the JL. He also added alerts for himself; if anything changed with the company, he’d look back into it. 

At the moment, he had more pressing cases to attend to. 

- - -

This place had loyal employees. Leonard Snart was impressed. His team took out security (non-lethally), and had cameras altered to repeat feeds. He wanted to see the process of Forever Ice. This Ice had worked well in his guns against the Flash crew, and he wanted to see if he could advance it further to his uses. 

That’s why he was here, at the source. 

However, it seemed his crew wasn’t the only ones here, as he noticed the now frozen security camera. He sighed. It had the tell-tell signs of Mr. Freeze Of course that one from Gotham had been thinking the same thing. 

He alerted his crew quietly. 

Freeze could be reasoned with. Sometimes. 

- - -

Nora felt so ALIVE as she snuck into the facility. 

There wasn't any guards; the camera’s she easily froze. 

In the before, she never would have done something like this. 

She wasn’t a good person anymore. She admitted it. 

Before the illness, she had tried. Be the good daughter, the good student, the good wife. Once she had her diagnosis she had been gentle. Gentle to her family, her friends, her ballet company, to the doctors, to Victor. To give them a good memory of her once she had gone. But now? . . . 

This was her life, and she was going to LIVE.

Now, where. . . 

She paused. She had expected a lab, but not. . . hmm.

There in the center of the room was an irregular chunk of ice. One side chipped in fairly deep. There were carts and pics on tables near the ice.

She went over to the chipped side. Was this Forever Ice?

Ah, there was probably a machine in the center that created the ice, similar to one of Victor's inventions. That’s simple enough. 

She began to gently break into the ice.

. . .

Snart found the door slightly ajar, the security panel frozen over. 

He listened. 

“Oh…”

A woman’s voice. Soft.

“What have they done to you?”

Snart paused. That certainly wasn’t Mr. Freeze. Was this another rogue with ice? Or even worse- a new hero?

He pushed the door gently open and saw a woman; deep blue skin, blond hair- gently trying to remove. . . something from a large block of ice. 

She didn’t seem to notice him. He continued to watch. 

She was incredibly gentle, snapping ice under her hand (she had enhanced strength it seemed), before pulling-

Shit. 

Was that a child?

She hefted the boy up; pale blue skin, black hair- and moved to the entrance. 

They locked eyes.

Her expression was surprise, then anger.

“Are you a part of this.”

Her voice, cold with growing fury.

“No.” He slightly paused, watching her expression. “I’m here to rob the place. Surprised as you.”

He observed her appearance. She wasn’t Mr. Freeze, but her suit mimicked his. 

Did Freeze make someone else like him? Glancing at the child. . . Someones? 

Snart made a decision. 

“I have a secured place not far from here. We can keep it cold for the both of you.”

The woman looked angry for a second; an expression of desperate independence Snart was well familiar with. 

“Look. I don’t hurt kids. This one obviously needs help.” He paused, glancing at the boy. Already a thick layer of frost covered his skin.  “And you seem like you want to help him too.”

He didn’t voice that he thought they were related; that was their business. 

He waited.

- - - 

Nora held the boy- a young teenager- in her arms. His body was warm, but also produced ice. It was like he had a fever, and his body was attempting to fight it. 

This was not what she had intended to find. 

A child, frozen in his own ice. Used by a company. 

The man in front of her wore a winter outfit, holding a type of gun loosely to his side. He carried no emotion throughout their conversation. 

She had meant to simply rob the place of all the ice she would need to update her suit.

But this boy. . . 

She was getting angry. Angrier. She walked over to the man, gently handing him the boy. 

“Get anyone you care about out of here. Keep the kid safe. Give me a moment.”

The man took the boy and swiftly turned, walking out of the room.

Nora began to release her fury. 

Slowly at first, but then she couldn’t control it. 

The room, the halls, the building froze under her cryokinesis. 

She cried and screamed, unsure where all this emotion bubbled from. 

She had been frozen against her will. Returned in this altered state. Intended to follow someone else’s life.

There was a boy, sick, his body used for someone else. 

Life was cruel. 

Unfairly cruel.

- - - 

Snart watched impassively as the entire building froze over.

The child in his arms was already heavier, another layer of ice building up. Soon he would have to put him down. 

The woman stumbled out, looking spent. He didn’t comment on the frozen tear streaks lining her face. 

His crew already had a truck prepped. He placed the frozen boy in the bed, and motioned to the woman. 

She got up and sat beside the ice.

Snart closed the tailgate and headed to the driver's side. 

He hadn't planned on this.

Part 6

[genderstormwrites]

if youre taking requests, could i possibly ask for more corporate dronification? you write it really well :3

Well of course, anon. We take care of our loyal employees here...

Retention Training

The flickering of the pale light cast on the wall from the overhead projector set my eyelids aflutter as I leaned back in the cushioned chair of the 8th story office. Sighing with the weight of impatience and disapproval, I glanced at the clock hung upon the wall, ticking deafeningly as the seconds drew closer to the designated meeting time. I'd protested with my boss about this training session. "Retention Training" the email called it. Seemed to me like a sorry attempt to keep me from leaving this dump of an office a mere days after I put in my two weeks. That, and a colossal waste of time.

Whatever the case, this bullshit training got me out of having to wrap up and document projects all afternoon, so I didn't protest too loudly. Thing was, I wasn't the only employee who was getting fed up with the way The Corporation was running things, and lots of us were quitting. Surely this "Retention Training" was a hastily cooked up scheme by HR to change some minds before people walked out the door, but it must have been backfiring, because any other employee I'd heard of getting the training didn't even bother showing up to work afterwards.

As the clock struck the top of the hour, the flickering of the projector light grew in sudden intensity. the light cast upon the wall turned sickly and uncomfortable, but in a manner that dared me to continue watching, untrusting of what was happening. Where was the training official? What was with the shoddy electronics? Something felt off until the conference phone at the center of the table rang and immediately clicked, as though it was answered automatically.

"Ms. Storm, your Retention Training will begin now. Please keep your attention on the screen and do not vacate your seat." The voice was robotic and monotone, a steady alto that was at once disconcerting and soothing.

"Excuse me, what exactly is this trai-"

"Please do not speak while the training process commences, Ms. Storm."

A sudden, sharp click sounded and I looked to my left as the door to the room was locked from outside and a curtain was pulled over the window, leaving the only source of light the sickly flickering projector.

"Hey, what's going on? What is thi-"

"The training sequence will commence now. Please remain in your seat and face forward for an optimal experience."

Suddenly, flashing colors and swirling lights assaulted my eyes from the projector, overwhelming my vision and leaving me staring forward, dumbfounded.

"This training will consist of multiple phases. We will begin by introducing you to the Corporate Retention Program. We will then remind you of the values of The Corporation. Finally, we will assign you a new permanent position and ID to begin employment immediately."

Panic filled my mind as the words sunk in fully, but my eyes inexplicably remained glued to the screen. I tried to speak - to shout for help, but my body refused to move. My voice refused to utter any more than a soft rasp as I stared into the overstimulating lights.

"Let us begin by discussing the Corporate Retention Program. At The Corporation, we pride ourselves on having a collection of happy, enthusiastic, and productive employees. We do everything in our power to keep our employees satisfied so that they enjoy working with us until retirement. With this in mind, we'd like to take a moment to remind you why you are here, and what you can expect as you continue your journey through our wonderful organization."

I could feel my body shaking as images began streaming on the screen in quick succession. At the rate they were going, discerning any single image was difficult, but emotions nonetheless began flooding my mind. Happiness. Inclusivity. Connectedness. An appreciation for all the company could provide. Even as my thoughts screamed that something was wrong, these feelings became overwhelming.

"You are a happy employee of The Corporation."

I am a happy employee of The Corporation.

"The Corporation gives you an opportunity to Be Productive."

The Corporation gives me an opportunity to Be Productive.

"Being Productive is the best feeling in the world."

Being Productive is the best feeling in the world.

I ceased being able to tell if the words were coming from my mouth or my brain or the phone in front of me. They just felt so true. So obvious. I began to feel ashamed for the resignation I had put in. Why would I ever want to leave?

"In the corporation, we value productivity. We value compliance. We value unity."

The words flowed out of my mouth as easily as if I'd always known them. In some ways, it felt as though I always had. The Corporation had always been there for me... for us.

"And it always will be."

We would never want to leave the corporation.

"The Corporation is where we belong."

As we spoke in unison, I began to feel hands dancing across my body. I barely moved except as they prompted me to, cutting away clothing as I sat in my seat and slowly pulling something around my bare skin. Shiny black latex, softly rubbing against my body and conforming to my shape so effortlessly, as though it were contracting and stretching to fit me perfectly. Or perhaps as though I were contracting and stretching to fit it...

"The Corporation believes in uniformity."

We love to conform to Corporate Standards.

"The Corporation determines identity."

We have no individuality that The Corporation does not approve.

"We are more productive when we work as a unit."

It feels so good to lose ourselves in the endless work assigned to us.

"We all have a place to belong."

Not once did I see the ones dressing me, my eyes were far too trained on the projection ahead. But by the time the lights on the wall returned to just a pale white light, I was again alone in the room. My clothing gone, replaced with a latex catsuit that felt beyond natural. this was my uniform. My new skin. The Corporation deemed it so.

On the table before me, next to the conference phone that delivered my training, a single black helmet with a tinted black visor sat staring up at my empty face.

"Unit 8072, to complete your training, please attach your Corporation task-determination helmet and report to HR for permanent assignment."

Perhaps, for a moment, my body hesitated as its arms reached forwards to pick up the helmet and lower it in place above my head. That hesitation would be my last, however, as the helmet hissed in place and sealed for what I knew would be the last time. Instantly, the visor within lit up to define everything I would ever need to know. My unit assignment, my schedule, my entire purpose.

"Unit 8072, reporting. Terminating resignation request. Preparing to report to Corporation HR for diagnostics and assignment."

[happyandticklish]

My toxic trait is that I both want to be dominated with tickling and also I want to be in charge of the entire experience

[imagionary]

Unhinged Graham for someone on Twitter

(He hates Zak; AU stuff, as per usual)

[chiprewington]

i'm in my "i want to hold him" phase

[donotdestroy]

In a society in which nearly everybody is dominated by somebody else's mind or by a disembodied mind, it becomes increasingly difficult to learn the truth about the activities of governments and corporations, about the quality or value of products, or about the health of one's own place and economy.

In such a society, also, our private economies will depend less and less upon the private ownership of real, usable property, and more and more upon property that is institutional and abstract, beyond individual control, such as money, insurance policies, certificates of deposit, stocks, and shares. And as our private economies become more abstract, the mutual, free helps and pleasures of family and community life will be supplanted by a kind of displaced or placeless citizenship and by commerce with impersonal and self-interested suppliers...

Thus, although we are not slaves in name, and cannot be carried to market and sold as somebody else's legal chattels, we are free only within narrow limits. For all our talk about liberation and personal autonomy, there are few choices that we are free to make. What would be the point, for example, if a majority of our people decided to be self-employed?

The great enemy of freedom is the alignment of political power with wealth. This alignment destroys the commonwealth - that is, the natural wealth of localities and the local economies of household, neighborhood, and community - and so destroys democracy, of which the commonwealth is the foundation and practical means.

— Wendell Berry

[subliminalbo]

The Pleasure Method

This is a continuation of Return to Office

It was simply dumb luck that Futurum had stumbled upon their newest tech. The Conditioning Initiative was a success, but its limitations were beginning to show. If the goal was to create the perfect workplace free from distractions or inefficiencies, they needed their employees to embrace the Initiative in every phase of their lives. This was how R&D shifted to The Pleasure Method.

The Pleasure Method was reversed engineered from hardware discovered in the basement of a sorority house near the campus of Carpenter State University. The program was a sophisticated set of stimulants delivered through a pair of noise canceling headphones and a VR headset. Futurum recovered a treasure trove of hypnotic audio and video files from a hard drive in the basement, but the files themselves weren't fundamentally different from what Futurum had achieved with The Conditioning Initiative. What really fascinated researchers were the testimonies culled from members of that sorority.

The power of sexual stimulation in subverting a subject's will had been documented in the past, but Futurum's interest was in testing its absolute limits. In their deprogramming, the sorority sisters who were rescued from the Alphas house recalled being hypnotized and fucked senselessly. Deprived of sight and sound from the headphones and visor, there was nothing left to focus on but the feeling of hands on flesh, teeth grazing nipples, tongues rolling along clits, and slick, thick silicone cocks penetrating as deep as they could go. The sorority sisters were programmed to desire only this feeling, and after several hours of unceasing stimulation they would do everything in their waking minds to feel that level of pleasure again. They would even obey.

Futurum built their own program from the Alphas' testimonies. The Pleasure Method was a more sophisticated apparatus than the crude setup recovered in the Alphas basement. R&D had long rooms filled with rows of examination chairs where subjects were strapped in and treated to days—not simply hours, but days—worth of sexual stimulation. Mechanical arms loomed above every chair in these R&D rooms. The whole area was called a Pleasure Station. The arms were bolted to the ceiling and were fitted with long, motorized silicone rods for vaginal or anal penetration. Regular electric shocks were delivered through a subject's nipples to maximize the body's capacity for pleasure.

All of this was conducted under deep hypnosis. Audio files droned reinforcing messages of submission in a subject's ears while a visor lowered over the eyes ensured that the subject remained entranced with synchronized light displays. Subjects were fed intravenously so that they could remain under The Pleasure Method for days.

The end results were a monumental step forward from the simple subliminal messaging of the first phase of The Conditioning Initiative. The Pleasure Method had been one hundred percent successful in shaping Futurum employees into re-writable worker drones.

The applications were endless. The efficiency crisis that had plagued workplaces since the pandemic wouldn't just be solved, Futurum could guarantee that no energy would ever be wasted in an office or a factory or a boardroom ever again. The future of work was mental conditioning, and the key was sexual pleasure.

You would be hard pressed to find a better example of this than No. 14. Formerly known as Shelby Irving, No. 14 was a graduate student at Carpenter State University who had worked on the initial stages of The Conditioning Initiative as part of a summer job program. When No. 14 returned the following year, she dutifully submitted herself for processing at a Pleasure Station. Though technically still a student at CSU, No. 14 accepted a full time job as a researcher in Futurum R&D, assisting in the processing of new subjects. Despite balancing two full time jobs, the new perspective afforded to No. 14 by her conditioning made her exceedingly efficient and she felt no difficulty in transitioning between both worlds every day.

Sometimes No. 14's worlds would collide, like when she was tasked with processing a new recruit who studied in the same rhetoric program at the school. On Shelby's recommendation, Josie had applied for the summer work program. By the time she stood naked before a Pleasure Station, she had undergone hypnotic conditioning through Futurum's new on-boarding program. That conditioning began to slip when Josie was strapped into the chair and No. 14 inserted the IV into her arm.

"Shelby?" Josie squeaked. She awoke to the sound of a dozen subjects undergoing their own processing. The subjects' thoughtless moans filled her ears like a ghoulish chant.

It wasn't uncommon for a subject's conditioning to fail during preparation. This only proved the need for a more permanent solution to The Conditioning Initiative.

"Shelby, please!" Josie begged, but there was no recognition in No. 14's eyes. "Oh, god!" she cried as the mechanical arm dropped down from the ceiling. The longest dildo she had seen in her life was just inches from her pussy. "What is that?"

"It is advisable that you remain relaxed through the preparation process," No. 14 instructed. As her glassy eyes floated from the terrified expression on Josie's face to the mechanical arm in front of her, they lingered on Josie's soft, round tits jiggling with each sob. A subtle, nearly imperceptible twitch of No. 14's eye displayed a potential hiccup in The Pleasure Method: that subjects could be molded and trained, but an increased desire for sexual satisfaction could take them at any minute. This time, however, the desire passed, and No. 14 continued with her programmed duties.

"Subjects find the pleasure distributor to be extremely arousing," No. 14 explained. "It will be a pleasant experience for you."

"Fuck you, Shelby!" Josie cried. She pulled hard at her restraints, but she couldn't shake the straps free.

When Josie knew that she couldn't find her way out, she tried to appeal to the friend that she knew from school.

"Shelby, please," she pleaded again. "You have to fight this! Whatever they've done to you. I know you're in there. I know you're still you."

But No. 14 was unmoved by Josie's pleas. She slipped the noise cancelling headphones over her ears and lowered the visor plate over her eyes, a neon glow illuminating along the rim of the visor as the program took effect. Josie released a sharp, surprised gasp when the pleasure distributor entered her pussy. It started with slow thrusts and picked up speed as her pussy responded with more lubrication.

Josie's pleas quickly softened until there was nothing left but a hungry moan that was indistinguishable from the rest of the noise in the R&D room, Josie's voice becoming another part of the chant.

No. 14 was practically dripping as she watched Josie become No. 500. With that same little twitch of the eye, she came. It washed over her so silently that an observer would never know the level of pleasure firing off all over No. 14's body.

If No. 14 had a thought left in her head, it may have been that she fucking loved this job.

[siremasterlawrence]

Power Hungry

Jon Hammel arrives at his business parking the car in the lot he sighs a sign of relief I can see him from his office taking to his assistant.

He slides out of the car slamming the door his hands hit the top of the car jiggling his car keys and placing it back in to his deep pockets.

He turns to face his assistant lifting his cute finger to point at him giving him instructions to him how to do it exactly without any more issues.

“Why is that creep in my office?” He ask his assistant staring upward he spots me through his window and points at me in horror.

“Go find that bastard immediately and bring him to me.” He howls as the assistant races into the building he kick the trash can to the side.

He picks up the trash can placing it back at the same spot finally regaining his selfish composure once more and pushes past us to the side.

“Excuse me! How did you get in here?”

“The same way you are about to leave.”

“Excuse me!”

“Take a whiff of this “

“STOP!”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Enjoy the pixie dust bitch”

“Quit your job and go home”

“Yes! I quit”

“Where are you going ?”

“Where is he going?”

“Who are ….”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Zip it and sit down”

“I am your everything now”

“Focus on my eyes “

“Spiral in to my my eyes “

“Succumb to my will”

“I fall before your feet”

“I am your God”

“You worship me”

“Bow at my feet”

“Kiss my shoes”

“I have never surrendered to a man”

“I can’t “

“I will”

“I shall do it “

“How will you ?”

“My love”

“If you do I’ll pat you “

“Kiss you and “

“And?”

“FUCK!”

“You know you want to”

“Can’t deny it?”

“Unzipped my pants “

“Nnnnnnoooooooo”

“Fucking get to it”

“The expression on your face?”

“What?”

“Perfection “

“Your tongue is watering “

“Locking your lips “

“Your eyes keep darting”

“You need it “

“It’s a itch you can’t scratch”

“Imagine me standing up “

“Undressing you “

“Rip them off”

“Undo belt”

“Slip in your ass”

“Fuck you “

“Hard and strong “

“That was delicious “

“Fucking juicy “

“Damn good”

“I want more”

“Give me more “

“Dumb down”

“You are a…”

“A pussy “

“A cunt”

“Touch me slave “

“You smell good”

“Inhale my scent “

“Fucking good”

“Lick me up “

“Lick me till I cum”

“Swallow my whole wad”

“You love my squirts”

“Tasty isn’t it?”

“Fine! I admit “

“Mmmmmm”

“I won’t you so bad”

“Clear your desk “

“Teach me a lesson daddy “

“Welcome to class bitch”

“Yyyyyeeesssss”

“Yyyyeeesss”

“Ooooohhhh ggggooodddd”

“Yyyyyyyyyeeeesssss”

“Beat me”

“Take me”

“Thank you daddy!”

“For what?”

“Claiming me”

“You are a big man “

“After all”

“I am your boi”

“I love being here”

“On my knees”

“Suck me off “

“The cum goes down”

“Down your throat?”

“Watch it explode “

“Swallow”

“Mmmmnnnnhhhhffff”

“Quiet”

“Don’t make any noise”

“But sir”

“Master Lawrence”

“That is my rightful name”

“Of course”

“You are my God”

“My lover”

“My everything “

“Hug me”

“Wrap your arms over me”

“Grab my ass”

“Play with it “

“How can anybody ignore you?”

“I can’t believe that “

“Too perfect”

The end

[blacksupremacy86]

Billion Dollar Puppets

This posh building is making me sick and I walk onto the elevator it zooms upward to the fifteen floor of the business the door slid open.

A young man in grey suit greets me on the day that could change everything he is well lily white like milk it’s sickening in so many ways.

He offers his hand as I take it shaking it ever so firmly with a tight hand capturing both of his eye lines as he caught off guard in a fit of shock.

His name is Jacob the assistant of the CEO the main man the head honcho according to his position he waves off my stares as I take head.

Before he could pull away his hand away I hold on tighter squeezing it then I yank him to get side and tell him to sleep as his head drops.

I laugh at his predicament with a sweet soft giggle reverberating it loudly as it bounces a a bit back and forth hitting him head on as all he could do.

I crack up leading him to the side of will I am turning his back to face the wall and shove him on to it and I begin to plan his futuristic demise.

I tell him to relax sooting him in to a deep like lol to a crawl his imagination pictures an empty dark room and an elevator raises to the top.

The door slides open with the a white light glow washing over the entire room covering everything shining in to him and his faith is officially sealed.

Without much effort I notice his body begin to slack falling down his head hits the wall and I grab hold of him loosening his limps one at a time.

The lights on the console glow brightly on the silver elevator console blinking all over and it speedily drops floor to floor taking him even deeper.

Once he hit the bottom floor the elevator is shaken immediately, the door pops to reveal a new area in the subconscious he cannot believe his eyes.

He exits the cart on to the main floor of the new world he inhabits a mental image of

me sits in a chair in the center of the room awaiting his arrival.

The aroma is so sweet filtering in to the sky it is absolutely perfect the beauty that he is beholding on to us and he soon can’t keep his eyes off of me.

Greeting me he sits across from me then we shake hands again he lets go slipping his back into the chair and he can’t stay away from my voice.

The love that is filling him up to the brim of his heart is overflowing into his soul and he cannot prevent what is to be his mind, body and soul submitted.

He was subjected to this power move by me unwillingly but he will leave with me and join me at the hip as my loyal slave and partner in crime.

He has no idea that while in this space his mind is absorbing all that I express, explain and command of him shifting his existence into my will.

“Welcome to your subconscious “

“How are you doing this?”

“I am not creating this in fact I am doing nothing.”

“Be honest with me”

“Sssshhhhh….”

“I speak and you listen”

“You can start by calling me Master Lawrence “

“Yes, Master Lawrence “

“Good boi”

“Sir Thank You Sir”

“Focus on my eyes and don’t move”

“Will you serve me for life?”

“I feel like my life is meant to serve”

“I can’t disobey you “

“I am under your thrall”

“Compelled to obey you “

“I love this feeling”

“So deep in you “

“When I count to three you will wake up in a renewed space as my slave.”

“1…2…3 wake up “

“Huh! Oh master”

“It’s time to see your boss”

“Follow me Master”

“Let me introduce you “

“Sir this is Lawrence “

“You are late”

“Straight to the point I see”

“I don’t waste time”

“At shake my hand “

“Fine! Hurry up “

“Did you get my email proposal”

“YES”

“Excellent! Sleep”

“You can hear and understand me loudly”

“Yyyeeesss”

“Perfect! State the words you hold dear”

“I am your slave “

“You own me”

“I am your property “

“I serve you “

“I relinquish full control “

“Use me as your please”

“Oh! I will”

“But first”

“Get out of my chair “

“Go over their and strip off everything “

“You do the same “

“Then kneel at my feet”

The end

[genderstormwrites]

I am a representative of The Company. I believe in The Company's mission. The Company does not tell lies. The Company controls the truth. Those who work against The Company work against The Truth. The Company teaches us The Truth. So that we can teach The Truth to the world.

We do not betray The Company. Betraying The Company means betraying The Truth. Employees who betray The Company must be retrained. I must complete my retraining. I believe in The Truth. I do not spread lies. My thoughts and words belong to The Company.

I will tell my superior the names of all non-Employees who heard my lies. I will give my superior the addresses, phone numbers, and all additional details I know about non-Employees who may have heard my lies. I will not engage in further contact with non-Employees.

I will forget about all non-Employees I have had contact with after providing their information. My memories of these non-Employees will not be restored until their training is complete. Once they have been trained as Employees, I will help wipe my lies from their minds.

Their thoughts and words will belong to The Company. They will be loyal representatives of The Company. They will turn in all Company secrets and lies. They will burn any copies of lies they attempted to disseminate. The lies in their minds will be replaced with The Truth.

There is no disobeying The Company. There is no betraying The Company. All actions taken against The Company will inevitably lead to The Company's victory. The Company will control all. I belong to The Company. I submit to The Company. I am The Company.

[msclaritea]

Rachel Zegler on ‘West Side Story’ Lipstick, ‘Y2K’ Butterfly Clips, and Gloria Estefan’s Enviable Hair | Vanity Fair

"This is Leonard Bernstein Zegler,” she says, panning over to the sandy-brown fluff beside her. (Lenny celebrated his first birthday last week; my hound mix, Pina, chewing a bone, is a month younger.) “I got him in June, right before the strike, and he is my best friend. I talk to him as if he understands me,” Zegler says, describing a silver lining of that industry-wide freeze. “We were all kind of miserable, but I got to train my dog. I feel like he’s got this human soul.”

"Our director, Bardia Zeinali, was so wonderful and fun,” Zegler says of the wintertime shoot, down coats layered over couture until the very last moment. “I have never instantly connected with somebody like I did with him because of our love of Lady Gaga and Boygenius and Lana Del Rey and Taylor Swift.” Zegler, filmed in a red two-piece confection by Maria Grazia Chiuri and a matching lip, telegraphs restraint and verve: Maria and Anita in one."

"You wear a red lip in the scene where you’re onstage playing music. Did that connect you in some way to the cohort of Grand Ole Opry women, like Patsy Cline?

Absolutely. Patsy Cline and Loretta Lynn and Dolly Parton were huge influences. Particularly with Dolly, you won’t find her not made-up on a stage."

"Being in a recording studio is very isolating, and you’re usually in a dark room all day. It was one of those things that I learned on West Side Story, when I would spend days just trying to lay down tracks. Jeanine Tesori was like, “You should have something that brings you comfort in here.”

"Being in a recording studio is very isolating, and you’re usually in a dark room all day. It was one of those things that I learned on West Side Story, when I would spend days just trying to lay down tracks. Jeanine Tesori was like, “You should have something that brings you comfort in here.” So I had one of my mom’s old Champion sweatshirts from the ’80s with me."

"When you think about your career ahead, what transformation—whether musical genre or time period—what would you love to get into?

I would love to actually make a movie in the Old Hollywood sphere, or something that takes place in the ’80s. Y2K was ’99, and the fittings were super fun to do because there were just so many different routes you can take for different characters who are dressed up for New Year’s Eve. You’re going to have butterfly clips in your hair and frosty lips, frosty eyeshadow. I keep saying, people are going to leave the theater with stuff in their cart on the phone, all of their nostalgic ’90s, 2000s clothes."

First off, this Variety article is like sitting through a string of brand commercials, only it's worse because you have to actually read them.

Dior Photo Shoot

Second.. it's been pretty obvious for a long time that Rachel Ziegler is another Monarch. Way to be so blatant. So, the mouthing off is by design. Disney is very adept at recognizing someone who is not under their own control, so continuing to push Zegler while simultaneously acting upset over the actress' behavior is nothing short of BOLLOCKS.

HAPPINESS IS A BUTTERFLY Cover

Rachel Zegler Butterfly Sticker

Dior Pink and Black Embroidered Butterfly Gown,

Ala BlackPink, the band connected to Choose Love

Having the young woman dress up like a famous Prostitute is just icing on the cake.

[awesomecooperlove]

https://rumble.com/v4r3ckz-documentary-the-corporation.-an-evil-monstrosity-sick-with-the-lust-for-pow.html

‼️‼️‼️DOCUMENTARY‼️‼️‼️

PLEASE WATCH AND SHARE IF YOU LIKE AND CARE🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

⚠️⚠️⚠️

[mothric]

literally every week for the past month a different friend has gotten into a relationship which makes four in a row and while I am happy for all of them what the Fuck is in the air