Now that most of the women in the office had been through the improved Securo-System, Sarah really didn’t have to hide her “true sense of style” anymore, and from her first day back in the office after getting her boob job, she resumed dressing like a bimbo.  

 

She would put her hair into cute, infantile pigtails, then drive to work naked, and scamper to the garbage bins behind the building, where she would find the clothes that Lachlan had left for her.  She would dress in these - which always included excruciatingly high heels - and then she would make her way to her office looking like a brainless huge-titted fuckdoll.

 

Standards in the office may have changed, but people still gasped when they saw the once-proud Sarah Rose walk into the office in a tiny schoolgirl skirt with a G-string on beneath it, and a tight semi-transparent shirt that read “MILK JUGS” across the front in large letters, and which made it clear she was absolutely not wearing a bra beneath it.

 

Sarah wanted to die of shame - and yet at the same time she felt proud.  Because this was the real her.  Because she was getting attention.  Because people clearly thought she looked *pretty* in this slutty, whorish outfit.

 

Everyone stared at her giant new fuckbags everywhere she went.  Almost nobody looked at her face anymore.

 

After a while, at Lachlan’s prompting, Sarah organised an all-staff meeting, where she addressed the assembled employees.

 

“I know that my new fashion sense and the surgery on my… well, my oversized udders” – there was laughter at this, although no one but Lachlan knew that Sarah simply wasn’t allowed to say ‘breasts’ – “have caused some comment in the office.”

 

“I am very happy with them, as I now feel like the woman I was always meant to be.  But I wanted to address some things quickly to avoid any friction in the office.”

 

She blushed, knowing that her prohibition on saying “breasts” or “tits” or “boobs” – and her need to describe her *own* breasts in humiliating terms – was going to make this speech difficult.

 

“First of all, it is okay to stare at my giant fuckmelons,” she said.  “That’s what they are, right?  I’m… advertising that my oversized udders are fuckable.  I know they look ridiculous and slutty and it’s hard not to look.  It’s okay.  You can stare at them at any time, including when I’m talking to you.”

 

“Second, if you want to grope them, go right ahead.  You don’t need to ask for permission.”

 

“Third, I know my swollen new melons are leading people to speculate about my sexual habits, and make jokes about my udder size, my intelligence, and my sexual history.  That is a natural result of having ridiculous funbags this big.  It is normal and okay.  It is natural to want to say very cruel and degrading things about a woman with embarrassing fuckmelons this big.  Do not feel the need to avoid these topics of discussion.  You can even say them to my face.  To encourage you, there will be a small cash bonus at the end of each week for the funniest joke about me.”

 

This was all as a result of Lachlan having a quick discussion with Sarah about ethics.  Having chosen to get such ridiculous whorish tits - and she *had* chosen, because she had wanted the surgery, to please Lachlan - it simply wasn’t *ethical* to expect people to act like she was normal now.  She had gotten those tits so that people could enjoy them - and it was simply the right thing to do to tell men that they could stare at them, grope them, and make jokes about them.

 

And once Sarah had made that announcement, he had taken her back to her office and pointed out that encouraging her employees to sexually molest her was *absolutely* against the Code of Conduct, and that she would now have to surrender something extra.

 

This time he told her that he wouldn’t accept an answer from her yet.  She could tell him what she was surrendering at the end of the week.  She had so little left to surrender, that he wanted her to really *think* about all her remaining options, and what they mean for her - and to, maybe, come to terms with the idea that she was doomed.  She had lost, and she was going to surrender every part of her that remained, one by one.

 

===

 

During the week, two things happened.  The first was that Sarah launched a new ad campaign for the department.  The second was that the Minister increased his use of the Securo-System.

 

The ad campaign was entitled “This Is What A Happy Woman Looks Like” - and it was outrageous.  It gave up all pretence that the Department of Women was a feminist organisation - even though their public statements did couch it in terms of a woman’s right to choose how to live her life, and feminism being about empowering women to be the kind of woman they wanted to be.

 

Each ad showed a woman, with the text “This Is What A Happy Woman Looks like”, with a photo of a woman.  In one photo, the woman was nude except for an apron that *just* covered her tits and cunt, and she was visibly nine months pregnant, and she was standing in a kitchen.  In another, the woman was nude, and locked in a dog cage.  In a third, she wore an elegant dress, and a collar and leash, and was kneeling before a man in a suit, gazing at his crotch with adoration.  

 

Sarah herself appeared in the fourth ad, wearing a tight pink top that read “BIMBO”, and cupping and lifting her large tits for the camera as she smiled happily.

 

A fifth ad showed two young women passionately kissing on a bed as an approving man looked on.  

 

A sixth - the most provocative - showed a half naked woman cowering in the corner of a public bathroom.  She had a black eye, and her clothes were ripped, and there were discarded condoms full of sperm around her.  The clear inference was that she had just been gang raped.

 

At the bottom of each ad read smaller text, “Don’t let the expectations of others run your life.  Make the choices that make you happy.  Find out more about how to be the woman you want to be at…” and then a special website the department had set up for the campaign.

 

The website provided information on how to start careers as strippers or prostitutes, and advice on how to please a husband as a stay-at-home wife (including detailed advice on being sexually pleasing), plus some legal information for women on how to make themselves as helpless as possible so that their man could control the maximum amount of their life.  It also contained contact details for a range of therapists who could help “de-program” women from feminism and lesbianism and help them to find the pleasure in serving men.

 

The ads were served on the internet to young women, and hung in high schools and colleges, and displayed in bars and clubs.

 

Whenever she saw one of these ads in the wild, Sarah would feel a burst of pride at her accomplishment, and a warm throb in her cunt, but at the same time she would feel a wetness in her eyes, as some small part of her still wanted to weep at the woman she had become, and the ways that she was betraying the gender and the principles that she had once believed in.

 

===

 

The Minister had booked two sessions on the Securo-System a day, and all the women he brought to use it were female politicians or department heads.  The new version of the Securo-System required less cooperation from the patient, and so only the smallest amount of guilt was needed in the woman’s brain for the system to work.  Lachlan and the Minister found that it was sufficient in most cases to use force to strip the woman naked, then call her a cunt, comment on her tits, and ask her when she had last masturbated in order to get her brain to manufacture sufficient shame for the process to accomplish its goals.

 

Each woman came in angry with the minister, furious at having her time wasted, and outraged at the idea of the department having some kind of mind control device.  After the minister’s guards had ripped off her clothes and forced her into the machine, and she had spent the necessary time under its control, she emerged convinced that the female gender was stupid, pathetic, and only suitable for fucking, and she would return to her office to do her job accordingly.

 

The Minister thought he had probably suborned enough women already that Sarah could call her entire gender dumb cunts on national TV and still keep her job.

 

“Another two weeks like this, and we’ll be able to do anything we want,” he said.  “Soon we’ll be able to have an entire nation modelled on the example of Miss Sarah Rose.”

 

Lachlan arranged for Sarah to attend some of these conversion processes.  There were two women in particular who he knew Sarah had admired very much as feminist leaders.  He brought her to see them converted so that she could have three important lessons.

 

The first was when the women saw Sarah, with her pigtails and her huge tits and her bimbo-ish clothing.  She got to see the way that they wrinkled their noses in disgust, and told her that she looked like a whore.  Lachlan, of course, could tell Sarah she was a whore any time he liked, but it was special for those words to come from someone who Sarah had respected.

 

The second lesson was in watching them being converted, so that she understood deep down that the minds of women were weak, and even the strongest woman could be rewritten and reshaped at the whims of men.  Her identity and her personality were privileges that could be taken away any time a man felt like it.

 

And the third lesson was when the women came out, and confessed, after some prompting, that they were pathetic rapetoys who thought with their cunts.  And at this point Sarah was encouraged to rape them - told by Lachlan that it would be unethical not to, because these women so clearly deserved to be raped.

 

And Sarah would push the women down, and hump her cunt against their faces as Lachlan and the Minister watched, and achieve orgasm by sexually violating the women she had once trusted to guide her in life.

 

When he looked in her face after the second of the two women, Lachlan saw something very special - an expression that told him that, no matter what happened now, no matter whether she surrendered anything - and, in fact, even if he completely released her from all her new rules and ideas and left her completely free - she would never, ever again believe in the dignity or worth of women.

 

===

 

He came to see her at the end of the week.

 

“Hello Kitten,” he said.  “Now, before you tell me what you are surrendering, I want you to list everything that you have left to surrender, and tell me your thoughts about surrendering it.”

 

She blushed.

 

“I still want to… make this stop,” she said.  “Somehow.  I know… I’m running out of time.  But still…”

 

She was silent, and he let her be silent, processing what was happening to her.

 

“So I could give up my intelligence,” she said, “but then I’d never escape.  And the same goes for my willpower.”

 

He nodded.

 

“If I gave up my heart,” she said, “you’d make me love you, wouldn’t you?”

 

He nodded again.

 

“I don’t want to,” she said.  “I want your approval so badly… and it’s hard to think past that.  But I can still remember that it’s you that made this happen.  I can still remember that I hate you.  And I don’t want to give that up.”

 

She went on.  “I think if I gave you my opinions, that would be hard to come back from too.  You could just tell me that I thought it was a good idea to surrender everything else to you.”

 

“That would be too easy, Kitten” he said.  “I probably wouldn’t use it for that.  But it’s a fair thought.  Go on.”

 

“That leaves my name, my privacy and my reproductive system,” she said.

 

“So which is it going to be?” he asked.

 

She was silent for a moment, and then said, “My reproductive system.  Even if you took me off birth control today, you probably couldn’t get me pregnant for the next month.  Maybe it will give me time…”

 

But then she trailed off, as the surrender took hold, and her brain gave up on the idea that her own reproductive system was something she controlled.  Of course she didn’t control it.  She couldn’t be trusted with it.  She needed a man to make decisions about whether she should be bred.

 

“Good girl,” said Lachlan.  “You can flush your birth control down the toilet as soon as I leave your office.  But from now on, you *want* to get pregnant.  And you want to get pregnant by *me*.  That doesn’t mean, necessarily, that other men won’t cum in your pussy, but you’ll try to avoid it until you have my baby in your belly, and you’ll hate the possibility of being knocked up by other men - not because you don’t want to be preggers, but because you’re afraid that your baby won’t be mine.  Do you understand, Sarah?”

 

She gazed up at him with a mixture of confusion, lust, hatred, and adoration.  “Yes, sir,” she said.  And the words were becoming true in her brain.  She was beginning to fixate on the idea of having Lachlan’s baby growing in her womb - of feeling her belly swell up, of her tits growing and leaking milk…

 

“Now, take off your clothes, Kitten,” he told her, “and bend over your desk so I can fuck you.  You may not be able to get pregnant yet, but there’s no reason we can’t try for a baby anyway.”

 

(TO BE CONTINUED)