Peggy tapped lightly on the door. No response. She tapped again, a little harder. Still no response. She looked down at her watch. She was definitely right on time for the meeting (thank you so much, inter-office mailing system, good luck getting her work schedule back on track after having to suddenly drop everything for an "urgent" meeting she'd only heard about two hours ago.) She was definitely at the right office. So why wasn't anyone answering? She knocked on the door one more time. Maybe "definitely" wasn't the right word. She looked down at the print-out of the email again. No, "definitely" definitely fit the bill. Right place, right time. Was this just some sort of joke?
A voice spoke from behind the door. "Come in, Ms Mitchell." She looked down at her watch. Exactly one minute after the meeting was supposed to start. Ah. So it was going to be one of those kinds of meetings. She opened the door and walked inside.
Peggy instantly disliked both of the men waiting for her, simply on an instinctive, hindbrain level. The man sitting at the desk wore an expensive gray suit that looked as though it had never been touched by a human being, and that included the person wearing it. He looked at her through wire-frame spectacles, his black hair perfectly slicked back so that his widow's peak was prominent, and everything about him gave off the impression of a man that actually considered Human Resources to be more important than humans. Compared to that, the bulky, unpleasantly-leering security guard standing behind him made Peggy feel downright comfortable. At least he just seemed like an ugly, clumsy, sexist pig.
The man sitting at the desk looked down at a sheet of paper in front of him, then back up at Peggy. She got the impression he'd have preferred dealing with the sheet of paper. "Ms Margaret Mitchell?" he asked in a formal tone.
"Peggy," she said, trying not to sound curt. "Margaret Mitchell wrote 'Gone With the Wind'."
He smiled thinly, more to indicate that he understood a joke had been told than to express any kind of amusement. "Indeed. I'm Mister Pfizer, from the Human Resources department. This is Rankin. He's just here to monitor the discussion and act as a witness."
Peggy didn't like the sound of that. Her brain ruffled briefly through her memories of recent events, trying to think of anything she might have done that would cause her to need to meet with Human Resources, and with witnesses present no less. She knew there'd been no problems in her work lately; she didn't even surf the Net while on the clock (unlike some people she could speak of, cough Janice Sikorsky cough.)
Pfizer must have seen the expression on her face, because he immediately said, in what he probably meant to be soothing tones, "Don't worry, Ms Mitchell. This meeting is probably just a formality. Some of our long-range planning documentation has, unfortunately, been leaked by disgruntled staffers to the company as a whole, and we're simply attempting to trace the path of the leaks in order to determine who was responsible. Have you seen a memo entitled, 'Re: H.R. 362: Corporate Loyalty Program'?"
Peggy froze. After a second, she put her finger to her chin, hoping she could pass her hesitation off as 'trying to remember'. What should she say here? 'No'? 'Yes'? The more accurate, 'I saw it, but I thought someone was kidding--you're not trying to tell me that was serious, are you?' After a long moment, she said, "Sorry, but I do see a lot of memos floating around the office...I'm afraid that one doesn't ring a bell, but it's possible I saw it and forgot." There. That should cover her ass nicely. And if he noticed the forced lightness of her tone, well...she was just nervous because it was such an important meeting. That's all.
"I see," Pfizer said. He reached into the desk drawer, and took something out. It looked sort of silly for a half-second, before she recognized it. It was like the sort of prop they used in an old Flash Gordon serial; a sort of sleek black gun-like device, with a complex nozzle where the barrel would be that ended in a little light bulb. "Do you recognize this?"
Peggy stood up quickly. "You keep that goddamned thing away from me!" she shouted, suddenly terrified. Oh, God, oh, fuck, oh shit, it really was serious. That memo was real. She took a step to the left, absolutely certain she didn't want to be where that thing was pointing, and started backing up towards the door.
"Oh, dear," Pfizer said. He didn't sound particularly surprised. "That was, unfortunately, the wrong response, Ms Mitchell. I'm afraid it casts some rather serious doubts on your answer to my first question. If you recognize the Neural Adjuster, then you've almost certainly read the memo. Or, at the very least, had someone summarize it for you. And I need to know who."
Peggy backed up to the door. She didn't want to take her eyes off of Pfizer for a second. Whatsisname, Rankin, the security guard, he wasn't moving, but Peggy didn't doubt that he could close the distance between them pretty quick. She didn't care, though. Rankin didn't worry her. That Neural Adjuster thing, that worried her. Peggy felt behind her for the door handle. She rattled it. Locked.
"Let me out!" she shouted, not caring who heard her. Hell, she prayed someone would hear her through the door. "Let me out, goddamnit, you can't do this to me, I have rights--"
"Actually, Ms Mitchell," Pfizer said, "we've gone over this with the Legal Department, and there appears to be no legal obstacle at all to the Corporate Loyalty Program. We had planned to phase it in slowly, of course, but now that the information's been leaked, we're having to expedite the process." He pointed the Adjuster at her and pulled the trigger.
Peggy felt a wave of dizziness pass through her, and she leaned back on the door for a moment for support. Her body felt suddenly hot and flushed, but she knew it was all in her head. "You...you can't, I...please, you don't even know all of what that thing can do to people!"
Pfizer smiled thinly again. She noticed that none of his smiles ever touched his eyes. "Please, Ms Mitchell, we've thoroughly tested the Adjuster. It's perfectly safe. There are a few temporary side effects, yes, but we feel confident that you're in no permanent danger. It's simply stimulating the brain to produce a few specific synaptic connections. That's all. Now, the names?"
Peggy lunged for him, but before she even got close enough for Rankin to stop her, Pfizer shot her with the Adjuster again. She staggered, falling heavily against the chair she'd been sitting in moments ago. She barely managed to move with it as it rolled along the thick carpeting. She felt waves of heat and cold now, as her nipples stiffened and she saw trails of color in the air. Rankin had a horrible grin on his face, and she knew he was staring at her tits as they pressed against her blouse. "You...you don't know, oh God, please stop, I read the memo, please, they...they don't know about long-term damage, I don't want my brain burned out, please, there has to be a law or something..."
Pfizer shot her again. "I'm afraid that memo was sensationalist and alarmist, emphasizing the unproven concerns of a minority of the project team's scientists. Honestly, if you continue to have any concerns after we're done with this meeting, or if you feel that the company has acted inappropriately, you can feel free to speak with Human Resources, or indeed contact an outside lawyer if you feel your grievance warrants it."
Peggy felt her knees give out from under her, and she buckled to the floor, still weakly clutching the chair. Pfizer knew full goddamned well that by the time the meeting was over, she wouldn't be capable of disagreeing with the company. She wouldn't have any concerns at all. "Please stop," she whimpered. Her head felt like it was on fire, and she felt her pussy getting slick and wet. 'Subjects begin to associate activities that benefit the company with sexual pleasure', that was what the memo had said. And she'd thought it was a joke. She'd shown it to people while laughing, oh God...
"Ms Mitchell," Pfizer said in that same calm, impassive tone he'd used through the whole meeting, "I'm perfectly willing to stop, as soon as I receive some tangible evidence that the Adjuster has correctly recalibrated your brain to an appropriate level of respect for this company and its policies. You know perfectly well that the memo you read, the memo you discussed and helped to circulate, was unauthorized and discussed corporate secrets. You've lied to me about your participation in the circulation of said memo, and you're continuing to withhold information about your sources." He shot her again. "Our policies are quite clear on this."
All Peggy heard for a moment was a high-pitched whine. Her clit felt swollen and engorged like a phantom tongue was licking it, and her right arm twitched and flexed like someone was electrocuting her. She remembered the memo again. 'Side effects', he'd called it. She felt this way because that thing was rewiring her brain as she sat there, burning new paths into her neural connections and reshaping her mind. He was brainwashing her, and he didn't even seem to care.
Was Pfizer brainwashed too? Rankin? Was that why they just stared at her as she knelt there in a tangled heap, drooling and whimpering but not able to stop herself? No. She wished she could believe that you'd have to be brainwashed to take that thing and point it at another person and pull the trigger, but Peggy knew better.
"Ms Mitchell, I am waiting for a response." He shot her again. "Names, please. The person or persons who circulated the memo to you. I don't have all day."
Her pussy suddenly went into spasm, muscles clenching around an imaginary cock. Peggy tried not to think about it, and about how suddenly important it seemed that she explain the whole thing to Mr. Pfizer and put this whole thing behind her so that she could get back to work. Work! she thought. I'm wasting valuable company time! She struggled to speak, but her lips and tongue didn't seem to want to work properly. All that came out was a series of warbling grunts.
Pfizer sighed. "Please understand, I am trying to limit your exposure to the Neural Adjuster. I'd prefer it greatly if you could return to work as soon as the meeting is concluded, instead of having to take a sick day to recuperate from the side effects. The paperwork would be easier for all concerned. But I do need to know who circulated the memo to you." He shot her again. "It's not just important to me, Ms Mitchell. It's important to the company."
Peggy slumped over sideways, her mind a maelstrom of conflicting concepts. The only thing that stood out clearly were those words. 'Important to the company.' She heard herself talk, like a stranger was moving her mouth for her. "Caroline Willingham, receptionist in R&D." Carrie was part of her bridge group; the two of them went out drinking every Friday night. Somehow, it didn't seem important. She felt a surge of pleasure when she said the name, and her legs spread wide as she stuck her hand down the front of her pants and began to masturbate.
"Very good, Ms Mitchell." He didn't even sound pleased at that. He just wrote down the name as Peggy stared at him glassily, her other hand pawing her breasts through her clothes. He didn't even care that she was lying on the floor finger-fucking herself. Rankin was watching her greedily, enjoying the free show, and even as Peggy felt sick at the thought of him jerking off tonight while remembering the way he'd watched Pfizer break her will, she felt worse watching Pfizer calmly return the Neural Adjuster to its drawer and begin filling out paperwork.
It didn't matter how she felt in her mind, though. Her body was operating on a different set of instructions. She just kept fingering her slick pussy, unable to stop. She shuddered and writhed on the floor, knowing that the pleasure and desire she felt was just a side effect of a powerful brain-altering device, but not able to care. Even the thought that indecent behavior was against company policy wasn't quite enough to get her to stop, not just yet. It would by tomorrow, though. She'd orgasm silently and efficiently, not letting it interrupt her work.
Mr. Pfizer looked over the top of an incident action form at her. "I'm afraid I don't have a great deal more time to spare with you today, Ms Mitchell. I have to be arranging Ms Willingham's meeting soon. If you don't feel that you can return to work immediately, just let me know and I'll arrange to have someone cover your duties for the rest of the day." He gestured up at the security guard. "This is, of course, why Mr. Rankin is here. I'd hate for anyone to think that I took advantage of you in your disorientated state."
Peggy shook and thrashed in the throes of a massive orgasm, and she let out a scream in high C as her whole body tensed for what felt like an eternity, then went limp.
"I see," Pfizer said. He looked over at Rankin. "Could you arrange for someone to collect Ms Mitchell and take her home? I'm sure she'll be right as rain in the morning." Without another word, he turned to his computer and began typing, no doubt composing the email for Carrie's 'urgent meeting'. Peggy wanted to go find her friend, tell her to quit without notice and run away, but she knew that even if she could stand up right now, she wouldn't do it. Nothing was as important as the company anymore. Nothing at all.
Peggy thought she felt tears run down her cheeks as hands reached under her armpits and began to drag her limp body out of the room, but it could have been just another side effect.
THE END
A voice spoke from behind the door. "Come in, Ms Mitchell." She looked down at her watch. Exactly one minute after the meeting was supposed to start. Ah. So it was going to be one of those kinds of meetings. She opened the door and walked inside.
Peggy instantly disliked both of the men waiting for her, simply on an instinctive, hindbrain level. The man sitting at the desk wore an expensive gray suit that looked as though it had never been touched by a human being, and that included the person wearing it. He looked at her through wire-frame spectacles, his black hair perfectly slicked back so that his widow's peak was prominent, and everything about him gave off the impression of a man that actually considered Human Resources to be more important than humans. Compared to that, the bulky, unpleasantly-leering security guard standing behind him made Peggy feel downright comfortable. At least he just seemed like an ugly, clumsy, sexist pig.
The man sitting at the desk looked down at a sheet of paper in front of him, then back up at Peggy. She got the impression he'd have preferred dealing with the sheet of paper. "Ms Margaret Mitchell?" he asked in a formal tone.
"Peggy," she said, trying not to sound curt. "Margaret Mitchell wrote 'Gone With the Wind'."
He smiled thinly, more to indicate that he understood a joke had been told than to express any kind of amusement. "Indeed. I'm Mister Pfizer, from the Human Resources department. This is Rankin. He's just here to monitor the discussion and act as a witness."
Peggy didn't like the sound of that. Her brain ruffled briefly through her memories of recent events, trying to think of anything she might have done that would cause her to need to meet with Human Resources, and with witnesses present no less. She knew there'd been no problems in her work lately; she didn't even surf the Net while on the clock (unlike some people she could speak of, cough Janice Sikorsky cough.)
Pfizer must have seen the expression on her face, because he immediately said, in what he probably meant to be soothing tones, "Don't worry, Ms Mitchell. This meeting is probably just a formality. Some of our long-range planning documentation has, unfortunately, been leaked by disgruntled staffers to the company as a whole, and we're simply attempting to trace the path of the leaks in order to determine who was responsible. Have you seen a memo entitled, 'Re: H.R. 362: Corporate Loyalty Program'?"
Peggy froze. After a second, she put her finger to her chin, hoping she could pass her hesitation off as 'trying to remember'. What should she say here? 'No'? 'Yes'? The more accurate, 'I saw it, but I thought someone was kidding--you're not trying to tell me that was serious, are you?' After a long moment, she said, "Sorry, but I do see a lot of memos floating around the office...I'm afraid that one doesn't ring a bell, but it's possible I saw it and forgot." There. That should cover her ass nicely. And if he noticed the forced lightness of her tone, well...she was just nervous because it was such an important meeting. That's all.
"I see," Pfizer said. He reached into the desk drawer, and took something out. It looked sort of silly for a half-second, before she recognized it. It was like the sort of prop they used in an old Flash Gordon serial; a sort of sleek black gun-like device, with a complex nozzle where the barrel would be that ended in a little light bulb. "Do you recognize this?"
Peggy stood up quickly. "You keep that goddamned thing away from me!" she shouted, suddenly terrified. Oh, God, oh, fuck, oh shit, it really was serious. That memo was real. She took a step to the left, absolutely certain she didn't want to be where that thing was pointing, and started backing up towards the door.
"Oh, dear," Pfizer said. He didn't sound particularly surprised. "That was, unfortunately, the wrong response, Ms Mitchell. I'm afraid it casts some rather serious doubts on your answer to my first question. If you recognize the Neural Adjuster, then you've almost certainly read the memo. Or, at the very least, had someone summarize it for you. And I need to know who."
Peggy backed up to the door. She didn't want to take her eyes off of Pfizer for a second. Whatsisname, Rankin, the security guard, he wasn't moving, but Peggy didn't doubt that he could close the distance between them pretty quick. She didn't care, though. Rankin didn't worry her. That Neural Adjuster thing, that worried her. Peggy felt behind her for the door handle. She rattled it. Locked.
"Let me out!" she shouted, not caring who heard her. Hell, she prayed someone would hear her through the door. "Let me out, goddamnit, you can't do this to me, I have rights--"
"Actually, Ms Mitchell," Pfizer said, "we've gone over this with the Legal Department, and there appears to be no legal obstacle at all to the Corporate Loyalty Program. We had planned to phase it in slowly, of course, but now that the information's been leaked, we're having to expedite the process." He pointed the Adjuster at her and pulled the trigger.
Peggy felt a wave of dizziness pass through her, and she leaned back on the door for a moment for support. Her body felt suddenly hot and flushed, but she knew it was all in her head. "You...you can't, I...please, you don't even know all of what that thing can do to people!"
Pfizer smiled thinly again. She noticed that none of his smiles ever touched his eyes. "Please, Ms Mitchell, we've thoroughly tested the Adjuster. It's perfectly safe. There are a few temporary side effects, yes, but we feel confident that you're in no permanent danger. It's simply stimulating the brain to produce a few specific synaptic connections. That's all. Now, the names?"
Peggy lunged for him, but before she even got close enough for Rankin to stop her, Pfizer shot her with the Adjuster again. She staggered, falling heavily against the chair she'd been sitting in moments ago. She barely managed to move with it as it rolled along the thick carpeting. She felt waves of heat and cold now, as her nipples stiffened and she saw trails of color in the air. Rankin had a horrible grin on his face, and she knew he was staring at her tits as they pressed against her blouse. "You...you don't know, oh God, please stop, I read the memo, please, they...they don't know about long-term damage, I don't want my brain burned out, please, there has to be a law or something..."
Pfizer shot her again. "I'm afraid that memo was sensationalist and alarmist, emphasizing the unproven concerns of a minority of the project team's scientists. Honestly, if you continue to have any concerns after we're done with this meeting, or if you feel that the company has acted inappropriately, you can feel free to speak with Human Resources, or indeed contact an outside lawyer if you feel your grievance warrants it."
Peggy felt her knees give out from under her, and she buckled to the floor, still weakly clutching the chair. Pfizer knew full goddamned well that by the time the meeting was over, she wouldn't be capable of disagreeing with the company. She wouldn't have any concerns at all. "Please stop," she whimpered. Her head felt like it was on fire, and she felt her pussy getting slick and wet. 'Subjects begin to associate activities that benefit the company with sexual pleasure', that was what the memo had said. And she'd thought it was a joke. She'd shown it to people while laughing, oh God...
"Ms Mitchell," Pfizer said in that same calm, impassive tone he'd used through the whole meeting, "I'm perfectly willing to stop, as soon as I receive some tangible evidence that the Adjuster has correctly recalibrated your brain to an appropriate level of respect for this company and its policies. You know perfectly well that the memo you read, the memo you discussed and helped to circulate, was unauthorized and discussed corporate secrets. You've lied to me about your participation in the circulation of said memo, and you're continuing to withhold information about your sources." He shot her again. "Our policies are quite clear on this."
All Peggy heard for a moment was a high-pitched whine. Her clit felt swollen and engorged like a phantom tongue was licking it, and her right arm twitched and flexed like someone was electrocuting her. She remembered the memo again. 'Side effects', he'd called it. She felt this way because that thing was rewiring her brain as she sat there, burning new paths into her neural connections and reshaping her mind. He was brainwashing her, and he didn't even seem to care.
Was Pfizer brainwashed too? Rankin? Was that why they just stared at her as she knelt there in a tangled heap, drooling and whimpering but not able to stop herself? No. She wished she could believe that you'd have to be brainwashed to take that thing and point it at another person and pull the trigger, but Peggy knew better.
"Ms Mitchell, I am waiting for a response." He shot her again. "Names, please. The person or persons who circulated the memo to you. I don't have all day."
Her pussy suddenly went into spasm, muscles clenching around an imaginary cock. Peggy tried not to think about it, and about how suddenly important it seemed that she explain the whole thing to Mr. Pfizer and put this whole thing behind her so that she could get back to work. Work! she thought. I'm wasting valuable company time! She struggled to speak, but her lips and tongue didn't seem to want to work properly. All that came out was a series of warbling grunts.
Pfizer sighed. "Please understand, I am trying to limit your exposure to the Neural Adjuster. I'd prefer it greatly if you could return to work as soon as the meeting is concluded, instead of having to take a sick day to recuperate from the side effects. The paperwork would be easier for all concerned. But I do need to know who circulated the memo to you." He shot her again. "It's not just important to me, Ms Mitchell. It's important to the company."
Peggy slumped over sideways, her mind a maelstrom of conflicting concepts. The only thing that stood out clearly were those words. 'Important to the company.' She heard herself talk, like a stranger was moving her mouth for her. "Caroline Willingham, receptionist in R&D." Carrie was part of her bridge group; the two of them went out drinking every Friday night. Somehow, it didn't seem important. She felt a surge of pleasure when she said the name, and her legs spread wide as she stuck her hand down the front of her pants and began to masturbate.
"Very good, Ms Mitchell." He didn't even sound pleased at that. He just wrote down the name as Peggy stared at him glassily, her other hand pawing her breasts through her clothes. He didn't even care that she was lying on the floor finger-fucking herself. Rankin was watching her greedily, enjoying the free show, and even as Peggy felt sick at the thought of him jerking off tonight while remembering the way he'd watched Pfizer break her will, she felt worse watching Pfizer calmly return the Neural Adjuster to its drawer and begin filling out paperwork.
It didn't matter how she felt in her mind, though. Her body was operating on a different set of instructions. She just kept fingering her slick pussy, unable to stop. She shuddered and writhed on the floor, knowing that the pleasure and desire she felt was just a side effect of a powerful brain-altering device, but not able to care. Even the thought that indecent behavior was against company policy wasn't quite enough to get her to stop, not just yet. It would by tomorrow, though. She'd orgasm silently and efficiently, not letting it interrupt her work.
Mr. Pfizer looked over the top of an incident action form at her. "I'm afraid I don't have a great deal more time to spare with you today, Ms Mitchell. I have to be arranging Ms Willingham's meeting soon. If you don't feel that you can return to work immediately, just let me know and I'll arrange to have someone cover your duties for the rest of the day." He gestured up at the security guard. "This is, of course, why Mr. Rankin is here. I'd hate for anyone to think that I took advantage of you in your disorientated state."
Peggy shook and thrashed in the throes of a massive orgasm, and she let out a scream in high C as her whole body tensed for what felt like an eternity, then went limp.
"I see," Pfizer said. He looked over at Rankin. "Could you arrange for someone to collect Ms Mitchell and take her home? I'm sure she'll be right as rain in the morning." Without another word, he turned to his computer and began typing, no doubt composing the email for Carrie's 'urgent meeting'. Peggy wanted to go find her friend, tell her to quit without notice and run away, but she knew that even if she could stand up right now, she wouldn't do it. Nothing was as important as the company anymore. Nothing at all.
Peggy thought she felt tears run down her cheeks as hands reached under her armpits and began to drag her limp body out of the room, but it could have been just another side effect.
THE END