muffmcmuffin: summerscaptions: Being brainwashed didn’t feel anything like Marisa had expect

muffmcmuffin:

summerscaptions:

Being brainwashed didn’t feel anything like Marisa had expected. 

When they’d snatched her up off the street and loaded her into the van, she was furious and terrified and confused, along with probably half a dozen other emotions that she couldn’t name or process at the time. She’d fought with all her might until the sedatives took hold. By the time she woke up, she was strapped to a chair, facing a wall of TV screens that stretched well beyond the limits of her peripheral vision. They were literally all she could see.

A face appeared on them. Each screen showed the same image - an older man with a friendly smile. He looked like a kind, forgetful old college don. The kind of guy who’d spend hours coming up with brilliant insights about some obscure literary theory, but who couldn’t boil water without smoking up his apartment. He looked, simply put, nice.

He adjusted his glasses and spoke.

“You all have been brought here,” he said, “to be brainwashed.”

His voice sounded like it was coming from everywhere. It wasn’t loud, it just seemed like it was coming from all directions. Like there were thousands of layers of the exact same words, at the exact same time, being spoken from thousands of different spots around the room. Marisa felt like the voice had physical presence, texture. It filled her ears. It filled her head.

She wasn’t sure how she knew, but there were other girls there with her. If she strained to the side, she could almost make out more chairs like hers, with more girls like her strapped to them. At the very far edge of her vision, she got the impression that there was a frighteningly long line of them, stretching out for thousands of feet. Dozens of girls, just like her, immobilized and staring.

Then it was gone, and all she could see was the TVs again, where the professor-looking guy was speaking.

“You were selected based on a number of criteria. In most cases, it was random, for your physical attractiveness. Some of you have been specifically selected - requested, in most cases, by one of this facility’s heads. How you came to be here, however, is not important. What is important is what will be done with you now.

“You’ll be thoroughly brainwashed, your old personality and priorities overwritten. The overwhelming majority of you will be trained and sold as sex slaves. A few will be kept here, to work as trainers or recruiters. You don’t need to worry about what role you’re going to be assigned to. You don’t need to worry about anything, in fact.

“You just need to watch.”

With that, he gave another friendly smile, a quick nod, and vanished.

And then the screens really came to life.

Each one showed something different. Most of them were full of text - huge blocks of it, way more than Marisa could read. Some were nearly static, showing a single image for a minute or more. Others flashed rapidly, cycling through images at a rate of about one each second. Some seemed to be video clips. Others were simple images with words blinking on and off. All of them seemed to rotate. Each screen showed something different, and the images swapped from screen to screen faster than Marisa could keep up with. 

The entire experience was, in a word, overwhelming.

The sheer scale of it made her dizzy. There were more screens than she could see, more than she could conceive of. The images - it was hard to parse one image from another, but on the whole, they seemed to mostly be pornographic - came and went, and hardly ever seemed to repeat. The number of different things flashing before her eyes… it boggled her mind.

Marisa had heard that phrase before. “Boggles the mind”. She’d never really thought about it. But now, she was experiencing it first-hand. She felt nauseous at first, then dazed. Then, slowly, her mind seemed to make surprising connections.

The first surprising thing she noticed was that she was aroused. It hadn’t occurred to her, but after a little bit, she heard herself gasp slightly. It was hard to hear over the soft drone of white noise that had been playing since the professor stopped talking, but she had let out a quiet, involuntary noise. A whimper, almost. It was something she knew she did when she was lost in an erotic moment - when her boyfriend was going down on her, maybe, or when she touched her clit just right.

So to do it now… brainwashing gets me wet, Marisa thought. The idea rang rich and clear in her mind, something solid and pure amongst the confusion and noise and din of the rest of the room. It didn’t feel like a natural thought, it was more like something she heard in her mind, but that didn’t make it feel any less massive and true.

I love being brainwashed. Again, it was like a bell in Marisa’s mind. It rang, and then reverberated, bouncing around in the recesses of her brain. It was less like thinking, and more like knowing. It was one of those facts that, now that she thought about it, was obvious in a self-supporting way. Obviously the sun was going to rise tomorrow. Obviously two times two was four. Obviously she loved being brainwashed. It didn’t even merit considering an alternative.

It’s good that I’m being brainwashed. For a moment or two, the notion of ‘good’ seemed murky. Good for whom? Good how? When it came down to it, what did ‘good’ even mean? Being brainwashed was good - that seemed clear. That felt, for an unsteady moment, like the only certain thing in the world to Marisa. That one fact was the craggy rock Marisa perched upon, the only safe place amid a raging sea of doubts. It was good to be brainwashed. That was the only self-evident thing she knew. Everything else was confusing and unclear.

I can’t wait to be a sex slave. That’s what she was doing here, right? Being brainwashed to be a sex slave. The brainwashing itself was good, of course. Therefore, if it was being used to make her a sex slave, then it followed logically that being a sex slave was a good thing. Iron-clad reasoning. Marisa began to feel more secure.

I love having my mind adjusted. Marisa could almost feel herself nod along to that one. That’s what the brainwashing was for, after all. Before she came here, she would have thought that being a sex slave was a bad thing. That it was wrong somehow. Now she knew it was a wonderful goal to have. That realization came thanks to brainwashing - thanks to having her mind adjusted. Marisa hoped there were many, many more adjustments to her mind waiting in her future.

I love to obey. She almost laughed at the thought. Many of these new ideas were big, bold revelations, things she’d never have considered. But this? Of course she loved to obey. She was a brainwashed sex slave, after all, wasn’t she? It almost didn’t merit thinking about.

From there, her new thoughts became both more specific and more general. Specific, in that they were particular commands and ways to obey. General, in that they were really all the same - do as you’re told, become what you’re made, forget what you were.

Marisa had no idea she’d love being brainwashed so much.

I love being brainwashed ♡

Devotional Training: Love being brainwashed.