Story: The Stepford Pattern, Part 5

Previous chapters:
One | Two | Three | Four

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“Fuck,” swore Harrison.  “Fuck fuck fuck.”  

He thought for a little, and then added, “FUCK.”

“Please, mister,” begged Hayley, from where she lay on the floor of the truck.  “I don’t know what this is about. But you had fun with me.  I swear I’ll never tell anyone.  You can let me go.”

She was crying, and Harrison realised she wasn’t scared that he would *keep* her – she was scared that he would *kill* her.

“Fuck,” he said again – and then, “Look, I’m not going to kill you or anything, all right?  But I can’t let you go just yet.  Just… sit there.  I need to think.”

“Please,” begged Hayley again.  “Please…”

Harrison shook his head.  He couldn’t concentrate with the woman he’d just raped begging constantly.  He moved over to her and stuffed the ball gag back in her mouth, securing it carefully.

“Mmf,” she said.

That was better.  Now, what should he do?

He got out his phone and logged in to the Bitch Kennel.  He sent a message to GoodCunt332.

“What the hell is this?” he wrote.  “This woman isn’t you.  She’s not exposed to the Pattern.  What did you make me do?”

Whoever GoodCunt332 was, she must have been expecting this.  Her reply was almost instant.

“Send me a picture of her nude,” she said, “so I know that you did it.”

Harrison sighed, and turned his phone to Hayley.  He took a photo of her, bound, gagged, his cum leaking from her freshly-raped snatch, and he uploaded it to the Bitch Kennel.

“Good,” came the reply.  “Now send me a video of her saying that she didn’t consent to this and that you raped her.  And at the end, slap her and stick your cock in her mouth, and make sure the video can see your face.”

“WTF?” he sent back.  “Why would I do that?”

“If you’re serious about cancelling the Pattern,” she said, “no one will ever see this video.  And I can help you.  But I need to know you’re not going to betray me.  I need leverage.”

Harrison considered.  Would he really provide a stranger with evidence that he had committed rape, just for a chance to save Jenny?

It was stupid.  Foolish.

But he already knew that he would.

And what about the last one?  Sticking his cock back in Hayley’s mouth and slapping her?  Raping her again – and without the excuse of thinking that she wanted or needed it?

He had already raped her once.  Was having his cock in her mouth for a few moments that much more hardship?  When it could save Jenny – and other girls – from ruining their lives?

He pulled off Hayley’s gag, and started filming.

“Tell the camera that I raped you,” he said.  “It’s not a trick.  Tell the truth about what I did.”

She didn’t understand, and watched his face for a long moment before deciding that he was serious.  When she did, she spoke quickly and with urgency.

“The man filming this dragged me into a van and threatened to hurt me,” she said.  “He cut off my clothes and raped me.  I didn’t want it.  I cried and begged for him to stop, but he kept going.  He didn’t care.  I was so scared…”

That was enough.  He took out his cock, and slapped her across the face.  When her mouth opened to protest, he pushed his dick into it.

“No teeth,” he warned her.  “Suck.”

She did.  It felt good.  He looked down at her pretty face and stroked her bright red hair as she sucked.  He raised the phone to film his own face.

He could stop now, and pull out of her mouth.  But… was it really so bad to just enjoy it a little longer?  She was obviously inexperienced at giving head, but she seemed to be eager to please him.  That was likely because she feared what he would do if she was disappointing, but however it came to be, her desperate need to make his cock feel good was arousing.

He wondered if he could make Jenny this desperate to suck his dick.  Maybe if he hurt her enough…

It took a surprisingly short time for Hayley to make him cum, considering he had only just ejaculated into her pussy.  He grabbed her hair and pulled her face close, and spurted his semen down her throat as she gagged prettily.

“Good girl,” he said, as she swallowed his sperm.  He pulled out, and wiped his dick clean on her cheek, and then pushed the ball gag back into her mouth.

He uploaded the video to the Bitch Kennel.

The response was swift.

“It’s me,” it read.  “Don’t freak out.”

And then, immediately afterwards, there was a knock on the van doors.

Despite the message, Harrison panicked a little.  Slowly, he opened the doors.

There was a pretty, petite brunette standing there, wearing a thin halter top and a short skirt.  Her hair was pushed back from her head in a pretty feathered style and held in place by a clip.  In one hand she was carrying a heavy bag.

“Don’t touch me,” she said.  “Understand?  Or that video goes to the police.”

Harrison didn’t quite understand, but he nodded.

 The girl jumped into the van and closed the doors with her inside.

“You know me as GoodCunt 332,” she said, “but you can call me Cait.”

“Okay,” said Harrison.  “I’m Harrison.”

“I’ve been exposed to the Pattern,” said Cait, “but… it didn’t quite work on me.  Not fully.  You need to know that I’ve set up that video you sent me in such a way that in order to stop it sending, I need to be able to say out loud that women deserve rights, that I don’t deserve rape, and that men are garbage, and believe it.  If I can’t do that once a day, the video will auto-send to the police.  So you can’t abduct me, right?  And I think if you rape me, it will push the Pattern forward, and I might not be able to say those things, so you can’t rape me either.”

“All right,” said Harrison.  “So now what?”

She dithered, and then said, “Can I see your cock for a moment?  I need… something, to make the Pattern happy.”

Harrison laughed, and took out his dick. 

Cait stared at it, and there was a palpable hunger in her eyes.  But soon she shook her head, and turned her gaze away.

“Put it away,” she said.  “That’s enough.  Do you have somewhere where you can keep this bitch you’ve raped secure for 24 hours or so?”

“There’s my house,” said Harrison.  “I have a dog cage.”

Cait nodded.  “Let’s take her there.  And on the way I’ll explain.”

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Cait was a neuroscientist.  She was only 25, but she had already made waves by work that had detected a significant measurable differences between the brains of men and women, related to the connection between vision and memory.

“I say ‘men’ and ‘women’, but I mean ‘mostly men and mostly women’,” she told him, sitting in the passenger seat as they drove back to Harrison’s house with Hayley nude, bound and gagged in the back.

“It’s not really some gender essentialist thing, it doesn’t mean women are stupid.  When we research it more it’s probably going to correlate to some hormone or other factor that’s associated with but not determinative of sex.  But… for our purposes, yes, a difference between the brains of men and women.”

Upon publishing her paper, she had been inundated with questions, and some of those had led to a short term contract with a company called Bovis Leashworks to analyse some data.  She hadn’t known what it was for.  It basically involved processing a bunch of brain-scan data to isolate the unique man-woman processing divide.

“Of course, I know now that I was actually helping them develop the Pattern,” she said.  “They must have laughed their heads off at getting a feminist scientist to help them create a method of turning other women into rape-dolls.”

At the end, they had sent her a link.  They’d told her they’d created something hypnotic – something to promote wellness and high-speed education.  They told her that the code to unlock the payment for her work was buried in the video, and she just had to engage with the video in good faith, and *want* to see the code, and she would.

Of course, if she didn’t, they’d still pay her – but there was a little bonus for testing the video, and anyway, didn’t she *want* to see what she’d helped to create?

“I was an idiot,” said Cait.  “But being a researcher is another way of saying that you’ve chosen a life of poverty.  And the payment for the job was a *lot*.  And they were right – I was curious.”

She had watched the link – and just like that, a weekend of her life vanished.  She had been exposed to the Pattern.

“Only it didn’t quite work right,” said Cait.  “I’ve seen a lot of people talking about the effects of the Pattern on Bitch Kennel, and that’s not what happened to me.  I lost time – the Pattern definitely put me into trance – and I’ve got new ideas in my head now.  I keep having slutty thoughts and misogynist thoughts.  But I’m not driven to destroy my life the way that the other girls are.  And I don’t have to submit to men.”

“Why do you think it didn’t work?” asked Harrison.

“I’ve got three theories,” said Cait.  “One is that I use software that changes my screen colours – makes them dimmer and bluer, to protect my eyes and improve my concentration.  It’s possible that it altered the video part of the Pattern enough that it didn’t work properly.”

She counted on her fingers.

“Number two is that it was maybe just a very early version of the Pattern,” she said.  “They’d obviously only just finished it.  Maybe I got a test version, and it wasn’t perfect yet.”

A third finger.

“And three, it’s possible my brain is different,” she said.  “I’m neurodivergent, or maybe I don’t have as much of whatever hormone or other factor causes the female brain weakness.”

“So you just have… slutty thoughts, and that’s it?” asked Harrison.

She shook her head.  “No.  I wish, but no.  I can feel the Eight Basic Instructions in my brain, pressing on me.  It’s like an inevitability that I’m sliding towards, very slowly.  If I don’t fix this, I’ll eventually give in to one of them, and then another, and another.”  She coughed, and then added, “And… I kind of have a fetish.”

“What fetish?” he asked.

“Women being raped,” she said, blushing.  “By men.  It’s a defence mechanism.  Because the Pattern keeps wanting me to think that *I* need to be raped, but I can kind of… push it aside, by focusing on *other* women being raped.  When I start feeling really slutty or bimboish, I just go online and find some rape porn, and masturbate to it, and I feel better for a while.”

“So Hayley…” said Harrison.  “You wanted that to happen?”

“So much,” said Cait.  “I just saw her one time and thought that she was pretty.  And I know I should be horrified by what you’ve done to her, and hate you for it.  But knowing she’s been raped just feels… so good.  Like getting into a warm bed on a cold night.  It’s just really satisfying, deep down, knowing there’s a naked girl in the back of this van who’s crying as a man’s cum leaks out of her.  Maybe she’s pregnant, even.  She knows, right now, that she has no say in whether men fuck her, and that she’s helpless to stop them… and that just makes me feel incredibly happy and satisfied.”

Cait shrugged.  “It’s fucked up, but I can’t help it.  And feeling that way is stopping me from turning into a brainless fuckdoll myself.”

“So what’s the plan?” asked Harrison.  “How are we going to beat the Pattern?  And what are we going to do about Hayley?”

Cait smiled.

“They’re the same question, Harrison,” she said.  “We’re going to expose Hayley to the Pattern.  Then you’ll have certainty that she’ll never report you for raping her, and I’ll be able to gather data about what happens to a woman’s brain during the induction process.”  She patted the heavy bag she was carrying.  “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

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