To work as a female employee of the Zeus Corporation was an honour. They required little in the way of experience or skills, it paid far better than comparable positions, and barring extreme misbehaviour, the job was yours as long as you wanted it.
But it came with an obligation to wear the “corporate uniform”.
Many girls, desperate for work, didn’t do their research before accepting the job, and thought that the uniform might be a particular kind of blouse or suit that she might be expected to wear.
It turned out, though, that the uniform was rather more extensive than that.
To start with, the Zeus Corporation only hired women that fit one of several very specific “looks”. The corporate headquarters had ten floors. The ground floor was the lobby, the top floor was the male-only executive boardrooms, and each of the remaining eight floors had a certain “type” of women.
The ninth floor was populated by women with green eyes, high cheekbones, and elegant faces. The eighth floor held petite Asian women. The seventh floor held women with wide hips and broad smiles. Every woman on the sixth floor was short and had a cute button nose.
In the best of circumstances, it would have been difficult to tell two women on the same floor apart based solely on their face and body. Every woman on a floor looked like the twin of every other woman.
But the corporate uniform went beyond that. It started with the outfit – a tight business suit that displayed and emphasised the cleavage; a short skirt that displayed the ass cheeks if the women leaned over; stockings; six inch high heels; small diamond earrings; and a sophisticated black velvet choker around the neck. Exactly the same, for every woman in the building.
And that was just the beginning. Every woman in the Zeus Corporation was required to maintain their hair at the same length, and to dye it the exact same shade of bimbo-blonde. They were given the same facial makeup – smoky eyes, bright red lips. They were required to maintain a certain weight – different for each woman, by necessity of differing body types, but nevertheless in the space of “fit, yet curvy”. And they were required to have breasts of at least an F-cup in size.
(The company rarely hired small-breasted women, so this took little effort for most, but from time to time a woman realised she needed a boob job to become satisfactory, which the company encouraged heartily.)
By the time they were dressed, every woman looked completely identical to every other woman on her floor – and very similar to the women on the other floors.
The similarity was the point. The Zeus Corporation encouraged women to understand they were interchangeable with every other female – neither unique, nor special, nor possessed of any memorable or notable characteristics. They were replaceable, disposable, forgettable.
They had no names within the Zeus Corporation. Men would call them “pet”, “sweetie”, “princess” – or sometimes “bitch” or “cunt” – and they would answer to it. They took an armband each day from a box in the lobby, randomly chosen and always different each day, which showed a unique combination of a colour and an icon, for when men had a need to refer to a specific woman. They might be “red bunny” or “blue cow” or “yellow tits” or “green toilet”, but the next day they would be something different.
Men would talk to women as if continuing a conversation from earlier that the woman had no memory of. Had the man confused her for another, identical woman? Or was she a stupid cunt who had forgotten the earlier interaction? It was impossible to know.
Even in their speech, they were supposed to be identical. The velvet chokers each girl wore had electrodes at the front, pressing against her neck, and a microphone. There was a standard voice that each girl was supposed to achieve – a kind of high-pitched bubbly infantile sound. If the pitch of a girl’s voice was too low or too high, the choker would shock her painfully.
Their vocabulary was standardised too. There was a list of acceptable words for female employees to use, and if they used a word that wasn’t on the list they would be shocked. Most words of more than two syllables were forbidden (with the notable exception of “Corporation”, so that they could at least answer the phones). “Woman” wasn’t on the list of allowed words – there were no “women” employed at Zeus, only “girls”.
The girls learned to express themselves using simpler, less intelligent words – and few noticed that this was also causing them to form simpler, less intelligent thoughts.
In the event that a girl’s unique permanent identity had to be ascertained, there was one foolproof method of doing so. Each girl’s cunt remained unique – an identifiable configuration of labia length and shape, clitoris length, skin colouration, and so forth. A detailed record of each girl’s cunt was kept in the employee records, matched against her unique identity number, and any male employee could pull up a girl’s skirt, pull down her panties, and scan her cunt with their phone to match her against the HR records.
Most girls found their self-identity ebbing away within the first few months – and with it, their personal values, priorities and preferences. The men knew to look for a certain expression on the women’s faces – a look that signalled they were ready to be fucked, that they would submit to be the sexual playthings of their male superiors.
The company had plans to expand the “corporate uniform”. It was building an apartment building near to the corporate headquarters – each apartment exactly the same, decorated in the same infantile childish pink decor, with the same pictures of empty-headed naked bimbos adorning the walls. The company called them not apartments, but “cages”, and soon it would require its female employees to move into them, each girl drawing a random cage every night, never living in the same room two days in a row. The doors did not have locks, and male employees would be encouraged to visit and enter cages whenever they wanted and feel entitled to make use of whatever girl they found inside.
And it was hard to argue against any of this, because the company’s testing found that by the time a girl had been with the company for a year, she was *happier* – freed of all the insecurity and confusion that came with having an identity, able to sink happily into an interchangeable array of stupid, submissive cunts, worried only about pleasing her male superiors….
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