Research Notes: the Fall of Women

Author's note: Once again, given the peculiar nature of the subject matter, this story warrants a special disclaimer. This is a fantasy, not a manifesto. As famous erotica author All These Roadworks usually puts it, "my kinks are not my politics". Do not use this story to promote a political worldview. Practice your relational life consensually, or not at all.

This story is set in the Fall Of Women narrative universe. In this world, a diabolical conspiracy has unleashed a mind control virus that compels women to submit to men. These stories are anthological, so you can read this one even if you haven't read the original. Having said that, reading both will naturally net you the best reading experience.

As always, all characters are over the age of 18.

Now, without further ado... enjoy the read!

RESEARCH NOTES FROM THE FALL OFF WOMEN

Log: day 1 of isolation.

I am Tamila Zasiedko, a researcher at the Mountain View Neuroscience and Behavioural Biology Lab. My colleagues and I are conducting an experiment to investigate the effects of prolonged isolation on women infected with a hypnotic mind virus known as "the payload."

The payload is a hypnotic viral mind agent, delivered to women worldwide through electronic devices.

Scientific consensus about it is still lacking, but it's considered likely that the payload acts on the prefrontal cortex, inducing a state of heightened suggestibility. It probably affects the brain's reward system, which is responsible for regulating emotions, motivation, and decision-making processes. It is hypothesized that the payload is designed to induce the affected individuals to become compliant to male authority.

The exact mechanism of this effect is unknown, as is the way the payload identifies its targets as women. Nevertheless, it is speculated that the payload may alter the levels of dopamine and serotonin in the brain, leading to an increase in reward sensitivity to stimuli that promote docility and degradation, and a decrease in the reward value of independent behaviour.

The altered balance of the reward system goes hand in hand with the subconscious processing of vivid and suggestive imagery.

As with the vast majority of women worldwide, I... have been infected by the viral agent in question.

Scans of my brain indicate a heightened activity in the anterior cingulate cortex and the ventral striatum, which are associated with emotional processing and reward perception, respectively. I am also displaying the typical symptoms described above, and an erratic sleep schedule.

I--and my female colleagues in the lab, all similarly affected--have volunteered to partake in an experiment, seeking to further our understanding of this payload, and hopefully develop appropriate countermeasures.

The experiment aims to understand how long-term sensory deprivation may impact the payload's ability to regulate dopamine and serotonin levels, which contribute to the development of submissive behavior in response to its stimuli.

Moreover, without a "learning" experience to attach a feeling of reward to, the payload will hopefully lose its ability to operate in the anterior cingulate cortex and the ventral striatum.

Were this to be corroborated... we may be on a path to curing it.

As part of the experiment to assess the effects of isolation on the payload's conditioning mechanisms, I have been confined to this room. The dimensions of the space are 3 meters by 3 meters, and it is equipped with basic necessities, as well as a camera and microphone.

I will remain confined here for a minimum period of 30 days. Further evaluations will be made from there.

During this period of isolation, all forms of external stimuli have been removed, including audio, visual, and olfactory stimuli. Food and water will be provided at regular intervals.

Similar isolation rooms have been set up in the lab for my female colleagues. During the period of our confinement, we will be monitored by male scientists, under the leadership of Dr Vogel.

During my stay here, I will record daily logs, monitoring my physiological responses, my mental state, my sleep cycle, and any other relevant parametres.

Upon entering the isolation room, my heart rate increased slightly, likely due to a mild anxiety response. However, my EEG readings have not yet shown any significant changes.

Currently, I am experiencing mild to moderate sleep deprivation and a persistent craving for the... dopamine and serotonin rushes that I would experience, were I to accept the payload's programming.

I will continue to monitor my physiological responses to assess the payload's impact on my brain.

If I may be allowed a slight digression from the technical note of this log, for just a moment...

My colleague Madison put it best, I believe, before being led to her own isolation room. She said work like this is the key to undoing this evil act. Yes, it may be tough for us individually, even infernal. But, as she said, to win in any struggle, you must do one thing first, above all: know your enemy.

End of log.

Log: day 2 of isolation.

Beginning with physical monitoring.

Today is the second day of my confinement. As with the first day, my EEG readings have not shown any significant changes from baseline levels. I continue to experience mild to moderate sleep deprivation, likely due to the vivid and suggestive imagery that the payload induces during dreams. These dreams have become more intense and disturbing since the onset of my isolation.

The payload seems to select highly symbolic dreams. The intensity and aggressiveness of the imagery is negatively impacting my mood. It also doesn't help that the... cravings are definitely present, and the lack of reward signals is deflating my emotional state.

The lack of dopamine is almost like a quantifiable physical feeling, a light but persistent pressure behind the temples. It also manifests in a general feeling of exhaustion. Overall, this is not dissimilar from the experiences of patients with mood disorders.

Other than that, all parametres nominal.

During the day, I have been keeping myself occupied with various cognitive tasks, including memory games and mental math exercises. These activities have been helpful in maintaining my cognitive functioning and focus, but they have not been sufficient in completely distracting me from the payload's influence.

I will continue to monitor my physiological responses and mental state, as well as engage in cognitive tasks, to further our understanding of the payload's effects and potential countermeasures.

End of log.

Log: day 5 of isolation.

Beginning with physical monitoring.

Despite the anxiety and disorientation that have emerged over the last few days, my EEG readings remain stable. There are no significant changes from yesterday's readings. My heart rate and blood pressure are also within normal range. I am keeping track of my sleep patterns, but they are erratic at best. I am finding it hard to fall asleep. My mind keeps racing, and I can't seem to quiet it down.

The emptiness of the room is starting to become oppressive. There is nothing to do here except think, and my thoughts keep returning to the payload and its effects on my brain. The cognitive tasks and memory games seem less appealing, and more tiresome to conduct.

I am starting to feel disoriented and disconnected from reality. It's as if I am in a dream state, where everything is hazy and unclear. I know that this is just a temporary state of cabin fever, but it's unsettling, especially because the payload is never far from my thoughts. I can feel its pull, tempting me to give in to its programming.

I am also tracking my mood and emotional state. I have to report that I feel... grumpy.

It does not escape me that my contribution to this experiment is not due to my scientific expertise, but to the fact that a shadowy entity delivered a malicious hypnotic agent into my brain. All my male colleagues get to sit out there and go home when their shift is over, while we have to be penned in and looked at, like lab rats.

I detect increased payload activity in reaction to these thoughts.

I know this is unfair to people like Dr Vogel, so I make sure to apologise over the microphone. Because it's one-way, I can't hear his response, but I'm sure he understands. I'm simply frustrated. I had to face my fair share of systemic injustices and misogynistic condescension to get here, and now I am relegated to the role of test subject just because I am a woman.

I do my best to calm down.

I will continue to monitor my physiological responses and emotional state, and record them in my daily log. I know that this experiment is important, not just for me, but for all women who have been affected by the payload. If we can understand its effects better, we may be able to find a way to counteract it. That thought is what keeps me going, even in the midst of this disorienting and challenging experience.

Log: day 8 of isolation.

Beginning with physical monitoring.

Nervous system monitoring indicates no significant changes in EEG, heart rate, or blood pressure. Sleep remains elusive, and sleep patterns erratic, with intermittent periods of restlessness and difficulty falling asleep. Emotional state remains stable for the most part, with occasional bursts of anxiety and frustration.

The payload's conditioning has intensified over the last few days. My executive function is deteriorating, meaning I constantly start cognitive exercises, only to immediately drop them. In spite of all my attempts, my focus inevitably returns to the payload, and I find myself daydreaming.

The imagery selected by the payload during sleep--and, to some degree, during daydreaming--seems to be shifting. The initial visions were crude, vivid but simple, erotic but not overly sexual. Now, they seem to be gaining in definition.

I see women pushed to their knees, strong hands throwing them back, asserting new and more restrictive boundaries, reining them in like one would an unruly animal. The payload floods my subconscious with half-formed imagery of women as a gender being expertly subdued and brought to heel, like formerly recalcitrant horses.

It... might be useful to understand if the payload targets its imagery to specific subjects, and how. Perhaps, once this experiment is concluded, comparative analysis can be made with what the other female researchers are experiencing.

Unfortunately, that line of thought leads me even deeper into the reverie, as I try to conjure up which visions of submission, enthrallment, and domestication they might be experiencing.

The lack of external stimuli is taking its toll on me. I find myself feeling restless and agitated, with nothing to occupy my mind except the payload's constant efforts. It's the way it seeps into every thought, every feeling, every decision. I can feel it tugging at me, trying to make me submit.

The payload's arsenal seems to widen, beyond the choice of imagery.

I must report that earlier today, I suddenly had the urge to clean the room, even though it's pristine, and there are no cleaning supplies on hand. The... domestic connotations of the inexplicable urge are obvious.

I keep having these intrusive thoughts that I can't shake off. Thoughts that I never had before. Like, why am I even here? Why am I not in the lab, conducting my own experiments, instead of being trapped here like a lab rat?

The payload claims, insidiously, that it's because my worth is solely based on my ability to serve men. I reject the notion as a matter of course, and my thoughts wander to Dr Vogel. My old frustration returns. He's not more qualified than I am, and yet he gets to sit behind the camera, watching me as I try to fight a mind virus that tries to enslave me.

The payload supplies many more intrusive thoughts, suggesting me to "let the men get on with the real work," and that "of course it's men who are going to fix this payload problem for you". I can feel it creeping up on me, that poisonous thought that I'm not good enough. Like, maybe I'm not cut out for this after all. Maybe I'm not good enough. Maybe no woman is.

My education and expertise are useless right now, in this experiment. The payload whispers that my place is not in science or research but rather in a domestic role, serving my "master."

But I refuse to give in. I refuse to let the payload control me. I am a neuroscientist, damn it, and I will not be reduced to a purely decorative role in society. No matter how my physical state seems to... respond to the idea of being an adornment.

I will fight back, with everything I have. I don't know how long it will take or how hard it will be, but I won't give up. I won't let the payload break me.

In closing, I realise this log may have... failed to live up to the usual standards in terms of formatting and technical requirements. But then again, this is exactly what the experiment is supposed to be monitoring. So long as it's useful, then I suppose it's fine.

Useful to the men who are conducting this experiment...

Log: day 14 of isolation.

It's been a full week since I last wrote in this log.

I'm so sorry. I mean, of course the camera in here watches me all the time, so... and I definitely did speak over the microphone, though the details of what I said currently elude me. Still, it's bad practice not to keep up with the logs.

It's just, I've been struggling to keep up with the payload's increasing intensity, and the toll it's taking on my mind and body.

I uh, should probably begin with physical monitoring.

Physiologically, there have been some significant changes in my EEG, heart rate, and blood pressure. My brainwaves show evidence of increased alpha and beta activity, which suggests heightened arousal and attention. My heart rate has also increased, especially during periods of intense conditioning.

I believe there might be a feedback loop in play here, because when I see evidence of my arousal, I think of how the changes are consistent with the payload's attempts to condition me to become more submissive and receptive to male authority. That in turn increases my state of arousal, which makes me think about... well.

Sleep has been more elusive than ever.

Emotionally, I'm exhausted. I swing between periods of intense anxiety and apathy, as if my brain is trying to shut down to escape the payload's growing barrage of intrusive thoughts. The idea that I shouldn't speak up, or that my opinion doesn't matter because I'm a woman. That this is all I should have always been doing in the lab. Being useful for the men who run it...

That there's a camera in here, watching me, all the time. Might as well put it to good use?

I've resisted that impulse, for now, but there are just so many. The payload even whispers that I'm somehow responsible for its effects on my brain, that if I were stronger or smarter, it wouldn't be able to control me.

But I know that's not true. I know that this mind virus is a complex and powerful weapon, designed to prey on our deepest fears and insecurities. Prey, of course. I mean, that's how predation works in nature, too, and with the vulnerabilities induced by the payload, women are definitely a prey item now. Bottom of the food chain. Easily subdued. It's open season...

Each time, it seems to take me longer, and more effort, to snap out of these reveries.

I've been thinking a lot about the women who came before me, who fought for our rights, who broke down barriers and shattered stereotypes. What would they think, seeing me like this, at the mercy of a mind virus?

A neuroscientist, rendered brainless by a hypnotic app on a smartphone.

Now, wouldn't that just be the peak of irony?

Log: day 16 of isolation.

I'm trying to stick to a more regular logging schedule again. However, what I have to report is mostly not good.

My physical and emotional state continues to deteriorate. I'm limiting myself to a sufficient but modest amount of eating and drinking, and my sleep patterns are erratic at best. My body aches all over, and I feel weak and lethargic most of the time.

Over the last 48 hours, I barely got out of bed. I spent the majority of the day lying there, lost in a haze of sexual fantasies that the payload continues to bombard me with. It's getting harder and harder to resist them. The payload's conditioning through the brain's reward mechanism is working, and the effects keep accumulating, like snowballs building into an avalanche.

The payload's effects are all-consuming, leaving me with no energy or motivation to do anything else. I've lost interest in the things that used to bring me joy and fulfillment, and even entertaining the thought of stimulating my memory and cognitive abilities is impossible. No, I have one and only one source of gratification, now.

The pleasure centers of my brain are firing off constantly, making it difficult to think of anything else. The payload has succeeded in making me feel small and insignificant. I can't help but wonder if this is how men have always seen women. As mere objects for their pleasure and amusement. Maybe the payload is just revealing the ugly truth that has been hidden for centuries.

I know I'm losing myself, but I can't seem to stop it. The payload has turned me into a shell of my former self.

The fantasies are getting more explicit, and more humiliating. I'm no longer just submitting to a man, I'm a slave to his every whim, relegated to my proper place beneath him, aware that he should have never let me rise above my station in the first place. He's correcting a historical injustice.

In the fantasies, I'm on my hands and knees, crawling to this faceless man like a dog, begging for scraps of his attention, for the privilege to suck his cock. Sometimes, in these scenarios, Dr Vogel is there too, watching me smugly.

In the reveries, I don't actually see his face, so I'm not sure how I know he's smug. It just... feels that way.

I mean, how could he not be smug? He's monitoring this experiment, watching me succumb to the payload's effects, watching me break down as a person, into the core, animalistic components that represent a woman's true identity. How could he see me as anything other than a simple creature, in dire need of a firm hand to lead her? Of course he has no respect for me or my intelligence.

As I think these thoughts, I report that I unconsciously angled myself towards the camera. In truth, at the time, my primary concern was with the fantasies themselves. I've been in a near-constant state of artificial arousal for so long.

Somehow, it seemed a bad idea to yield to it. And yet, just as my mind wandered, so did my hands. It was only after I'd begun stroking that I realised I would be giving Vogel a show...

Well. That's his job, isn't it? To monitor me? So, let him monitor this.

Hopefully, he enjoys it, and I get to contribute something to this experiment, after all...

Log: day 20 of isolation.

Beginning with physical monitoring.

Knees hurt from the cold floor. Neck aches from the bowed posture.

With nothing to keep myself occupied, I've played with myself to the point that I feel like my degree itself must have leaked out of my sex, together with my desperate arousal. It's made me descend into a dumb, animalistic fog.

When I'm in a refractory period, though, kneeling is a good way to provide at least minor release of rewarding chemicals from the payload. Every time I think that this is my proper place in life, folded out of men's sight unless they want their cocks sucked, the payload gives me another little crumb of good fuzzy feelings... but just a crumb. So I keep following it down this road, eager for more.

Embracing my nature as a sexual object, available to men's every whim and desire. Crumb.