God, I'd been here five days and that was the fifth co-worker to grope me. The fiftieth to tell me what a great ass I had. I almost couldn't blame them -- almost. Not because I had a great ass, though I did. Looking around at the other women in the office, they were all taking this harassment as a done thing. At most, a few women would roll their eyes when a guy fondled their tits as they worked. Most of the women giggled and blushed at every lewd comment.
It was no wonder, I guess. With a workplace culture this sexist, of course only the bimbos would stick around. Well, I wasn't a bimbo, and I wasn't going to quit. I'd fix this culture from within.
I knocked on the office of my manager Louis. When he let me in, I very calmly, very professionally walked to his desk. I told him, without raising my voice or showing any hint of emotion, incident by incident, scandal by scandal, every bit of harassment I'd received or seen in my five days here. How did he react? He just sat there, stone-faced. Not bored. It was like I'd told him the overhead figures didn't add up.
"Do you have any thoughts on the matter?" I said, trying to pour as much plausibly deniable aggression as I could into my workingwoman's perma-smile. "Is there any incident you would like me to repeat?"
He put his hands in a triangle in front of his mouth and looked at the edge of his desk. "That's very concerning, June." With his computer he called someone up. "Carl... could you come to my office, please?"
Carl? I mean, yeah, he'd pinched my butt and called me "Jugs," but no more than the other guys.
Carl strolled into the office, nodded at Louis, and grinned at me and at my tits. "You got new makeup, Milkers?"
I held my tongue as usual. At least now I knew Louis was going to chew him out.
"Carl, weren't you in charge of June's subliminals?" Louis asked.
Huh? Subliminals?
"Yeah," said Carl, then a little defensively, "Yeah, I *did*"
"You did, Carl?" Louis swivelled in his chair to me. In his same managerial voice, he said, "Sweetie, with those tits you'd make a great stripper. How's about you practise on my pole?"
"Oh, my God!" I said, mouth wide, eyes on fire. Professionalism be damned. To hell with being called the "crazy bitch" behind my back. "I am taking this to HR, and if they're as... as... *this* as you are, I'm taking this to-"
As I was haranguing them, Louis just swivelled back to Carl and raised his eyebrows like he'd made a gotcha.
Carl was almost as exasperated as me. "I did though. I did. Watch."
"Hey, hey!" I said. "I am still here. This is about-"
Carl pointed his hand at me, looked me in the eye, and said, "June, *scrub the tape* from just after you came in to now."
It was like I stood up too quickly, vision hazy, like I'd fall, but... but... what?
"Jesus!" I jumped on seeing Carl right in front of me. Was Carl so boring that I just didn't see him walk into my line of vision?
Carl ignored me. No, actually, he just didn't talk to me. He pointed at me. "See. It worked."
"Um, excuse me. I was here first and did have something to say in private to Louis," I said, but both seemed to think the two of them were the only speakers in the room.
"No, Carl, that trigger's part of the base layer of subliminals. You didn't upload the body."
Huh? Subliminals?
"No, no, I did upload the body," Carl said.
"Excuse me," I said, clenching my fists behind me, but keeping my voice nice and bell-like. "I would like someone to enlighten me as to what we're talking about-"
Without even looking my way, Louis held up his palm to me. "June, *mute*."
Mute? Mute!? Not even a "Be quiet, dear. Keep your pretty little mouth shut, dear." Mute!
No more Little Miss Diplomatic.
"You sexist, misogynist, piece of utter retrograde patriarchal horseshit!" I wanted to yell. The second I opened my mouth I realised I couldn't make a sound. I kept my mouth open, bobbing my head as though I could dislodge something, but no word would come.
"I think I know what's happened," said Louis to Carl. "Come 'round." He beckoned Carl around to his computer. As Carl bent over beside him to watch the screen. "I've got the subliminals program up. This is the screen you use."
This was too fucked up. They weren't listening to me -- and a cat had got my fucking tongue. I'd run from there and get whatever help I could get.
I'd only walked half-way to the door when Louis said, "June, *freeze*," as casually as asking for coffee.
I was mid-stride, one of my feet heading downwards now stuck in the air. I couldn't move a muscle. It wasn't that I was straining and failing. I couldn't send my will into my body. Well, at least I could blink. And at least I wasn't feeling any pain keeping this pose. The most painful part was being stuck facing the open door to the main office, seeing the elevator out of here. I also saw the office ladies getting their tits and asses grabbed. A few men looked into this office, but they just chuckled at me. Oh, if I could, I'd give them the finger.
"Carl, there's the window for the contents of the subliminals, then here's where you set which girl the subliminals are for."
"And I did that," Carl said.
"I'm not finished," Louis said. "*Here* is where you set which *computer* the subliminals go to." Carl didn't answer and Louis let the silence run for a bit. "You did set June's computer, didn't you? If not, there's a subliminal track tailor made for her just sitting in the cloud."
"It's not very intuitive, is it?" Carl complained.
"No, it isn't," said Louis. "We're going to make the program far more user-friendly before the public roll out. This is all explained, however, in the training video. Did you watch it?"
Carl huffed through his nose. "Skimmed it..."
"Well, in the future..." Louis said. "Let's do her subliminals now."
I tried to move, tried to strain, tried even to tense my muscles, but my body was still at absolute rest. My heartbeat, even, was only a little above normal.
"Let's set some subliminals," said Louis. "Basic things. She respects company policy -- company dress policy and company whistle blower policy, especially. And-"
"Oh, oh," Carl says, "let's make her a real bitch, high-and-mighty bitch. Like she'd slap me for groping her. But deep down -- like she won't even admit it to herself -- she gets off on guys treating her like a sex object. Even as she slaps me her pussy's getting wet. The only time she comes close to accepting her lust is when she's already three-quarters to orgasm, and then she's a like a mewling, submissive sex kitten."
"Okay, that's Preset Three," said Louis, "Melting Ice Queen."
I guess that was a silver lining: I'd like being a sex object.
