misogyny and other virtues verseXLizzieM

[Verse]

The city was seething. Around midnight, a handful of hours ago, the current government lead by a particular volatile but overwhelmingly popular party had gone through with its foremost campaign promise. A bill that immensely revoked women's rights in society. The court had thrown out cases that used to be beacons for women's rights, and policies were put in place to 'protect men' in the eyes of the law. The boy's club had pulled rank and pulled through for all the brothers. It had been televised and the tabloids had been following it closely, with fantastical headlines that tried but could never be as sensational as the truth. It was decided, it was signed, it was executed. It was announced.

Now, on a normal working Wednesday, people's hearts and lives were still adjusting. Everyone still needed to go to work, so the capitol had already started its bustle. At first it didn't seem too out of the ordinary, the concrete soon crawling with life. But already in the subway, if you cared to look, there were women having to keep quiet when men were groping them openly. The new uniforms for the baristas of large, country-spanning cafes had changed to little more than an apron and cheeky shorts, and the girls who had to make their living as a bike delivery zipping through the city streets, well, with what they were made to wear, maybe they should marry their saddles because of how intimate they got.

But the structures were still the same. One such as the William Corporation, part of the economic backbone of the country, with many international branches. It's city headquarters was a hulking rectangle made out of glass and beams, crowned with its blue W emblem. This early, there were no clients in, international or not. Just the workers preparing and warming up the offices. All kinds of things needed to happen to grease the cogs of this giant machine. And one of those things was a steady supply of warm bodies to do the work.

Recruiting happened at Will Corp at this hour.

If you found yourself in the personnel waiting room, perhaps to see the head of staff himself, Director Kiro Sawyer, and your desired position was an assistant job, you would be seated on one of the cushions in a simple but sturdy couch. Two other women had left as you arrived and three others were vying for a spot, both on the couch, and, of course, the one by the director's side, if they got the job. The waiting room was spacious, overlooking the city at the middle tier of the skyscraper. The scent of cleaner hadn't quite gone from the cleaning staff's recent good work, and there was a coffee station in a corner, where the large window and a wall met. Grey and brown and white tones, with the odd accent of green, both in art and plants. A measured first impression; a bit minimalistic but not cold.

The woman who showed you was in full accordance with the bill, named The Issue Initiative, with her tall heels and short skirt, showing exactly one quarter of her buttocks, and jacket with nothing underneath but her breasts, held in place with the one button. Upon the table you were told to take the form, and fill it out. She would come to collect when you were done.

Employment form, support staff Director Sawyer.

We welcome you to your application process. Will Corp is in accordance with The Issue Initiative.

Name
Age
Height
Cup Size
Waist
Color of labia
Relevant education
Subjective thoughts on the need for female intelligence
Spirit
Eagerness to please
Relationship status
Underwear yes/no
Loyalty
Sexual activity/willingness


And then, not too long after you handed in the sensitive information, you'd be called into a second office, guided by the woman who'd shown you in from the elevator. Following her, it'd be abundant by the bounce of her ass, that there was nothing protecting her under the already skimpy skirt. The new office would be even simpler. A table and a chair for you. On the other side; a man in a painfully well tailored gray suit and blue shirt. Young for his obvious position of power, and a jawline to match; elegant rather than Neanderthal. Rich, testosterone riddled black hair and eyes.

It was obvious by the tension in the room that the bill had full effect here.

 

[LizzieM]

The waiting room felt sterile, almost clinical in its simplicity. Lizzie sat, hands clutched tightly on her lap, her eyes darting around nervously. The minimalistic design of the space only heightened the discomfort in her chest as she realized what she had walked into. The atmosphere was cold and intimidating, and the fact that the city below was still bustling with life only made her feel smaller, more insignificant. She could see the other women in the room, all of them dressed similarly, but there was a differenc. She wasn't like them. Not in the same way. They were more confident, more sure of themselves. She was... just desperate.

Her breath caught as the woman who had escorted her in swished past her, the swish of her heels echoing on the polished floor. The outfit the woman wore, scant and revealing, made Lizzie feel both embarrassed and strangely out of place. She couldn't help but feel a little envious of how easily the woman held herself, even if her outfit was so inappropriate it made Lizzie blush. Lizzie wasn't naïve enough to not understand the new reality, how women had become mere vessels for display and obedience. But somehow, seeing it in person, seeing it in the flesh, still shocked her. This was the world now. Her world.

Taking a deep breath, she reluctantly reached for the form on the table. It felt like her only chance. She didn't know if it would be enough, but she had to try. She had to.

---

Employment Form:


Name: Lizzie Morris
Age: 22
Height: 5'2"
Cup Size: C
Waist: 22 inches
Color of labia: (unsure how to answer this, hesitates, then writes) Pink
Relevant education: High school diploma, poor grades
Subjective thoughts on the need for female intelligence: (anxiously fills in) I don't think it matters
Spirit: I just want to do my best.
Eagerness to please: High.
Relationship status: Single
Underwear yes/no: (pauses, fidgets) Yes.
Loyalty: I'll do whatever it takes to keep the job.
Sexual activity/willingness: Willing to follow the guidelines of the company and the position.

---

Filling out the form was more degrading than Lizzie had expected. It wasn't the answers, but the fact that they were required at all, reducing her to nothing more than a body to be tested and evaluated. She had no choice but to comply; she needed this job more than her dignity. Her hands trembled as she handed the form back, her heart racing in anticipation of what came next. The woman led her to a stark, impersonal office where a confident, powerful man sat behind a perfectly tailored suit. His eyes scanned her like she was a product, and Lizzie's throat went dry as she realized she was nothing more than her looks in his eyes, just another body to fill the role.

 

[Verse]

The world was new to most people, but to men like director Sawyer, it had looked like this for a while. He had been the campaign liaison from W Corp to the current administration, and while the rest of the company had footed the bill, Kiro had been the face of the money. Having the ear of both the company and the contacts in the current political party afforded him a percentage of the actual power in the country. He didn't really know what he'd do with it all, he was full up with making decisions how so use the influence he had with his position and money, most days, but he was liking the way the future was headed.

The new standard form for female employees had been a project of his, and he had of course tweaked the questions for recruitment of his own support staff to suit him. The women who had already applied and been interviewed had various degrees of compliance to the new bill, but he could feel a shift in them as the morning went on. Their diplomas and fancy licenses didn't mean much, anymore, when men were preferred for both the jobs they were looking for, or already had. A couple of the applicants had even been women in high positions within W Corp itself, having to hilariously downgrade to simply have a paycheck. The executive parking lot had been emptied out of cars since the women driving them had lost their executive employment, and the crew lot was becoming overfilled.

So now he sat in this room, deliberately chosen for its cheap look. His own well pressed clothing and expensive hair products to keep his black hair back was a big contrast. He was particularly excited for their next candidate. According to the timestamp of correspondence, most of it standard form, she'd been on board for recruitment since long before the bill. With her grades it made sense. And the form hadn't sent her running. Her answer for the last question was promising.

And so was her entrance. She looked like someone who would obey, but she didn't look mindless, in that her eyes wouldn't be empty when she did the things she was ordered to. Young, but so was he. Their difference in success was astronomical, and her nervous posture reflected that. He took note of what she was wearing. He needed to see if the measurements she'd given were correct, though there'd be a part of this interview that would give him more information on that.

He gestured long fingers to the seat. The silence was a power move he used often. When she did sit, because girls like Lizzie Morris sat when told, he stood up. He was tall, as though his riches and fitness and face had him in need of more blessings. "Lizzie? That should be short for Elizabeth, right? Not a name in itself." he started. Though some of the tones in his words were playful, the others were judgmental. He continued to take notes on her clothing and what he could see of her body. He started walking around the table with her form on it.

"This is mostly just a check to see if the form wad truthfully filled in." he said with a shrug as he came around to her side and leaned back on the sturdy edge. Their height difference was even more prominent now, as would be his natural scent. He crossed his arms and looked down at her face. "You're not very well educated, Lizzie. You're dumb. Is that going to be an asset or a problem?" he asked without humor in his voice.

 

[LizzieM]

Lizzie swallowed hard as she lowered herself into the chair, her skirt riding up slightly more than she would've liked, but she didn't dare tug it down. Her fingers nervously curled around the edge of the seat as she felt the silence stretch between them like a trap she'd just walked into. The room was colder than it had any right to be, and her heart beat loudly in her ears, drowning out the hum of distant office machinery. She kept her eyes forward, even when he stood, even when the scent of his cologne and his power filled the space between them like smoke.

His words landed heavy, and though they weren't exactly surprising, they still stung. Dumb. The word echoed in her head. She'd been called that before, by teachers, by boys, even by her own mother in moments of frustration, but it sounded different coming from him. It wasn't meant to hurt her. It was just a fact to him. Something to be acknowledged and filed away.

She lifted her eyes to meet his and gave a forced smile. "I think it's probably an asset now, sir," she said softly, her stomach twisting. "I know how to listen. I don't ask a lot of questions. I just do what I'm told."

She tried not to shift in her seat as he stood so close, the tension between them making her skin prickle. "I don't pretend to be something I'm not. I just want to be useful." Her voice faltered for half a second before she added, "I know that's what matters."

 

[Verse]

He looked at her thighs when they showed under her skirt. She wasn't overtly whorish like some of the top candidates for this job, but he liked that he could tell she was obviously out of her comfort zone. Small build. And like a soldier she kept her posture tight and avoided his eyes. She was a little parcel of tension, sitting there in front of him. When he inhaled through his nostril he could smell the first signs of fear coming off her. She was close to panic, but she was trying her best. In many ways, Lizzie was ideal for this new world order, as it unfolded.

She didn't like being called dumb. Good to know. He made sure not to show that he'd noted it. She got even stiffer about it, and that meant her response would tell him alot about how she handled tense situations.

She was still struggling, which was adorable. Her eyes were pretty in their turmoil and her smile was gaunt because of her efforts to keep it on her face. And her answer was perfect.

His own lips curled up without teeth. A rewarding, small nod of his head. But she was still very much on trial. He needed to reward the behaviours he liked. She had not fought him on being called dumb, she had adapted to be more pleasant instead. She was trying to fit herself into this new era, and into this new role. Maybe Lizzie Morris wasn't dumb. Maybe she was the kind of young woman who would thrive under the new bill.

But he needed to test her more to know. She had declared a lot, just now. Impressive. But that meant he could push further.

He let his arms hang by his sides. His expression was still treacherously inviting and encouraging, which may just look subtlety mocking to her. Like he didn't believe her. He leaned forward over her until his hands laid over hers on the armrests, squeezing firmly as though to test the small bones.

His face was close to hers. He wanted to see her up close; her color of eye, her lips, but most of all he wanted to see her flaws and drink up her fear.

"That was a nice speech. Like a good girl. Are you a good girl, Lizzie?" He asked, doubt on his regal facial bones. And then his eyes darted down between them shortly, to check her cleavage of course - were they really C's? - but to inevitably land on her skirt. When he looked into her eyes again his head tiled. "Because good staff girls don't wear panties unless told."

He let go of her hands and tapped them twice with his fingertips as he stood, folding his arms expectantly.