Sure, Erika Wilfert had a PhD, but so did all the men in the research division who were working under her. Many of them were older than Erika and vastly more qualified to manage the division.

Erika, at the relatively young age of 26, had gotten the job as a manager for only three reasons. First, the company had gender quotas, requiring that 50% of people in management roles be women. Second, Erika’s daddy was wealthy and influential, and had pulled strings to make it happen. And third, Erika had a fantastic pair of large natural tits, which tended to get people’s attention long before they had noticed the spoiled, bitchy expression that constantly occupied her face.

Her male subordinates hated her. Hated her with a deep and intense passion, even as they dreamed about squeezing her gorgeous, oversized tits, and pulling painfully on her long, gorgeous brown hair, and stuffing their cocks into her spoiled, bratty cunt.

The division was working on an experimental medical device. It was intended to treat trauma in patients with post-traumatic stress disorder, by remotely rerouting the electrical activity in the brain so as to edit or entirely delete the traumatic memories. It would only work on women, due to certain sex-based differences in brain chemistry, but that was still 50% of the population who could benefit from it. The scientific principles underpinning it were sound, but it had been a struggle to develop a working prototype, as the division had run into countless issues with materials, power supply, and sensitivity.

For the last month, Erika had worked the men like slaves. Upper management were losing patience for the project, she told them. If they didn’t get results soon, their division would be defunded, and the money diverted into promising pharmaceutical trials taking place under a different team. All leave had been cancelled, compulsory overtime had been instituted, and workers were required to come in on weekends.

On top of that, Erika had been actively abusive towards her underlings, calling them “sissy little fuckwits”, “lazy monkeys”, and “human turds”. 

“What is your fucking problem?” she screamed at them at 9 pm one night, after hours of overtime. “Why can’t you solve one little fucking science problem? I’d be astonished that any group of humans could be so pathetically *stupid* – except, of course, that you’re *men*, so no surprises there, really.”

One of the workers had lost it at that stage, and begun yelling back at Erika. 

The next morning, he was gone, his desk cleaned out.

The mood that morning among the workers was fiery. Everyone was thinking of quitting. One researcher, an older gentleman called Harry, even suggested they all march into Erika’s office, and just strip her nude and rape her.

“We’d go to jail,” said Harry, “but I honestly don’t care. It’s what she deserves.”

No one raised an argument against this, and it might have happened – had not young Evan Cochrane made a breakthrough at that precise moment. He had been running simulations on his computer, and he had just received an alert that one had been successful.

“Guys!” he exclaimed. “Look! Look! This is it! This is the solution to the last problem on the device!”

There was some interest – after all, the men had been working on this for more than a year – but also an attitude of pessimism.

“Great,” said Harry, sarcastically. “And when we present this, the bitch will take all the credit, and then put us back to slaving away on something new.”

“No, wait,” said Evan. “Don’t tell Erika yet. Let’s assemble the prototype – but keep it quiet. And then we’ll test it on her.”

There was silence among the group of men. They knew testing the device on their boss was unethical – and unsafe. It could fry her brain.

They no longer cared.

“Let’s do it,” said Harry.

===

The device took a form very much like a gun – bulky, but small enough to be held in one hand. One simply connected it to a computer via a wire and uploaded its specific instructions, and then kept it trained on the patient for ten seconds while it transferred those instructions to the patient’s brain.

One of the primary ways the device would treat trauma would be by removing strong emotional associations from thoughts and memories. It would let a rape victim, for example, recall their rape without reliving the fear and violation, or let a car crash survivor remember the crash without the shock and pain. 

So for their first test of the device, they attempted to remove the feelings of urgency and anxiety that Erika associated with needing to complete development of the device. Evan programmed the gun, and then Harry aimed it at Erika through her office window. Erika never even noticed.

There was a sense of tension as the gun was fired. Everyone was waiting for Erika’s nose to bleed, or her head to explode. But there were no such worrying signs. In fact, there was nothing to suggest the device had been used at all.

It was a third man, Franklin, who drew the short straw on finding out whether the device had worked. He nervously walked into Erika’s office and waited for her to acknowledge him.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, bracing himself for an explosion of anger. “The guys and I have been talking, and the reality is we’re just going to need three more weeks to complete development. Your timeline is unrealistic. That’s just what it will take.”

Erika looked at him. On any normal day, this would have been the end of Franklin’s career – and he would have gotten nearly a half-hour of shouted abuse as well.

But she just frowned slightly, and then said, “Well, that’s unfortunate. I’ll let upper management know. Thank you, Franklin.”

Franklin’s eyes bulged in shock. It was like a whole new Erika. Stuttering, he thanked her, and quickly left the office.

“It works,” he reported to the other men. “Holy fuck, it works.”

They might have left it there. They might have admitted the device was complete, and turned it over to the company.

But it wasn’t enough for the men. They had tasted power, and they wanted more. Beyond that – they wanted *revenge*.

They all remembered how Erika had called them “stupid” that night. And so they decided that it would be fitting to use the device to reduce Erika’s intelligence, and make her stupider and stupider, until she was eventually fired.

There was some discussion on how, exactly, to do that. The device couldn’t do anything as simple as just reduce a person’s IQ. It worked with memories and associations only.

They decided to start by deleting some of her language. They would pick out long words – words that a prospective bimbo like Erika had no need to know – and they would use the device to remove them from her vocabulary. 

The device worked best when the memories to be affected were fresh in the subject’s brain – but that was as simple as sending Erika an email that contained the relevant word in the first sentence, and then firing the gun just as they saw her opening the email through her office window.

They deleted the words “laboratory”, “prototype”, “experiment”, “trauma” and “neurological” from her brain, and laughed themselves silly when she came out of her office to ask about progress on the “science memory thingy”, frowning to herself in confusion at her inability to find the correct words.

Then they tried to delete the word “overtime”, to prevent her asking for any, and made a discovery. Harry accidentally held down the trigger about twice as long as he was supposed to while deleting “overtime”, and instead of just removing the word, he removed the entire *concept* from her brain. When Evan asked if they would be needed to stay back that night, Erika couldn’t even understand why that would be a possibility.

Grinning, they promptly followed up by deleting the concepts of “feminism”, “empowerment”, “sexual harassment” and “female equality” from her brain. It would be a while till they would see the full fruits of those alterations, but they knew it would be a firm foundation for what came next.

They took turns finding other words to remove from her brain, agreeing that she had no need of any word with three syllables or more. Then Franklin suggested just removing her ability to *spell* certain words, and that was even funnier. Watching her send them emails with sentences like, “I hope we have gud news 4 manjment about our science thingy soon” never got old.

They removed her ability to work much of the office software on her computer, so she continually had to ask one of her male subordinates for help. And at this stage, she was now struggling to do her job, and getting strange looks from her superiors in upper management.

The men *might* have left it there. They had done enough, surely?

Except just as they were discussing the state of their boss’s increasingly confused mind, she happened to come out of her office and find them laughing at her most recent spelling mistakes.

She may not have known what “feminism” was anymore, or “female empowerment”. But she still knew she didn’t like being laughed at by men. And for days now she had been surfing a tide of low-level panic and terror at her awareness of something being very wrong with her brain. 

She overreacted. She didn’t just yell at them. She threw a coffee mug at Harry’s head, and concussed him.

She was horrified afterwards. She ran from the office in tears.

They could have called the police. They could have reported Erika to management. They could have gotten her fired, and sent to jail. 

Instead, they took Harry to hospital, and the next day they stepped up their program of revenge.

First, they deleted the memory of the cup-throwing incident from Erika’s brain as soon as she got to work. If they didn’t, she’d wonder why there hadn’t been any consequences, and might become suspicious.

They waited through the rest of the work day. Near to home time, they used the device again – and this time they removed the memory of where she had parked her car, and what her car looked like. She still knew she *had* a car – but when it came time to head home, she found herself wandering the parking garage blankly, looking for a vehicle that she could no longer picture nor remember driving.

They let her wander like that for nearly two hours, long after everyone had gone home. Then the men (minus Harry, in the hospital) descended to the parking basement, put on black ski masks, and grabbed Erika. 

Evan had brought his van to work, so they dragged her into the back of that van, even as she struggled and protested. Once there, they ripped off her clothes, and each man took a turn raping her.

They were not gentle. They slapped her face. They slapped her tits. And they pushed their cocks deep into her bitchy, spoiled cunt, and discovered it was every bit as pleasurable as their fantasies had implied. Erika struggled and cried, and that just made it even better for them. One by one they violated her, and ejaculated inside her.

Then they turned the device on her. 

First, they deleted any thoughts or suspicions she may have had about who had raped her. She was completely clueless, and thought of her attackers only as random strangers.

Then they edited her memories and associations of the rape. They gave her the vague idea that it had been her fault. She couldn’t picture how, exactly, but the strong associations with the memory left her sure that it was because of something she had done, and that she deserved it. They gave her the impression that she had orgasmed from the rape – several times – and then gave her an almost overpowering sense of shame and guilt associated with both the rape and her orgasm.

And then, finally, they connected the entire experience to the part of her brain that controlled arousal and fetishes. When she thought about her rape, she would feel intense guilt and shame – and she would also become deeply, overpoweringly horny. She likely wouldn’t be able to masturbate or reach orgasm without remembering being raped in vivid detail.

Then they dressed her again (minus her underwear, which they didn’t feel she needed), lifted her out of the van, placed her on the floor of the parking garage, and left. 

(TO BE CONCLUDED…)

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