Yellow Journalism

Fortunately, underneath, she already had her costume on.

Molly's underwear, unlike the rest of her clothes, was very, very different from what she'd been wearing when she'd walked into the club. Her sensible bra and panties were gone, and in their place was a flashy, sequined set of lingerie that left nothing to the imagination. The bottoms were a tiny little thong, and the top was a push-up bra that was clearly designed to put her large tits and massive cleavage on display.

Now, Molly could breathe a sigh of relief. She couldn't believe she'd been hiding her tits on stage like that. How unspeakably vulgar!

"That's much better," Mistress Alexia announced. "I'm sure you all agree! Now, some of you might remember Molly Templeton here as a journalist. Some of you might even know that she wrote some very unkind things about me recently. Molly, does that sound right to you?"

Molly shook her head emphatically. "I would never, Mistress!" she declared. "And anyway, I... I'm not... I don't... um..."

When she tried to think about whether or not she was a journalist, her head turned all fuzzy, and she became hopelessly lost in the fog of her own thoughts.

"I'm glad to hear it!" Mistress Alexia turned to the audience. "Now, on with the show. As you'll recall, we're going to be auctioning off the chance to decide what I should do with my glamorous assistant here. We shall start the bidding at one hundred dollars. And... begin!"

What followed was a flurry of activity as members of the audience started raising paddles bearing their table number, indicating their willingness to bid. Mistress Alexia conducted the auction masterfully, guiding the whole room into a state of excitement as more and more women sought to win the opportunity to slip one of their suggestions into Molly's head.

Molly, meanwhile, was watching the proceedings with ever-growing confusion. Why was she just going along with this? She was Mistress Alexia's assistant, yes, but... why? She couldn't remember agreeing to any of this. Wasn't there something else she had come here to do? Something much, much more important. If only she could remember. And was she really going to let someone buy the right to give her a hypnotic suggestion? A deep part of her rebelled at the idea.

But on the other hand, she was Mistress Alexia's obedient, hypnotized toy.

"Sold!" Mistress Alexia announced suddenly, pointing over to one of the tables near the front corner of the room. "Madam, what is your deepest desire for sweet Molly Templeton here?"

The woman who had won the auction regarded Molly with a predatory look. She looked to be in her forties, and was wearing a long, elegant dress with her hair up in an elaborate style. She looked rich, and she looked accustomed to getting what she wanted.

"I think," the woman said thoughtfully, "that since she's not a journalist, Molly is a little smarter than she needs to be. Wouldn't you agree, Mistress Alexia?"

Mistress Alexia let out a rich, low, rolling laugh. "You're so right, of course. I'd be more than happy to set that straight for her." She crossed the stage over to where Molly was standing, and looked her over. "Are you ready to lose some IQ, my assistant?"

Molly found herself sweating and shifting uncomfortably. All kinds of alarms were going off in her head, but she couldn't figure out what any of them meant. Didn't she need to be smart for... something? She really needed to take some time to let her head clear. "I... um... I..."

With a grand, theatrical gesture, Mistress Alexia snapped her fingers in front of Molly's face.

Immediately, Molly's mind switched off. It was like hitting 'pause' on a video; her last thoughts were frozen in her head, unable to complete themselves, and the sound of Mistress Alexia's fingers snapping echoed on and on and on.

"Let's see," Mistress Alexia mused. "As our lovely auction-winner says, Molly's brains are clearly being overused. But I also think that her true assets have been woefully under-utilized until now." As she spoke, she reached out and caressed Molly's chest, letting the audience see how her tits jiggled as the dominatrix hefted them in her hands. "What do you all think?"

The audience wolf-whistled in enthusiastic agreement, as Molly just stared ahead blankly.

"Listen to me very carefully, Molly," Mistress Alexia instructed. "From now on, whenever someone touches your tits, you're going to feel yourself getting dumber. You're going to feel a few of those precious IQ points draining out of your head, as all those smarts and moral principles you're so proud of go up and smoke, and bit by bit, you're reduced to a dumb, ditzy, horny bimbo. Understand?"

Molly didn't reply - she couldn't - but she could feel those words sinking into her head.

"It only makes sense," her mistress continued. "Your tits are such a sensitive part of your body, after all. Every time someone touches your tits, I'm sure it feels amazing. Like a little lightning bolt running through your body and into your brain. Especially for a girl like you, with such big boobs. I can only imagine how good they must feel. From now on, they're going to feel even better, and that pleasure is what's going to make you dumber and dumber."

Each word the hypnodomme spoke was added to the echoes that were bouncing around in Molly's empty, hypnotized head.

"Now... wake up!" Mistress Alexia snapped her fingers once more.

Again, Molly blinked in confusion as she emerged from trance. She looked at Mistress Alexia helplessly. What had just happened? She couldn't really remember; it was all too blurry. Something about getting dumber, and... her tits?

"How do you feel?" Mistress Alexia asked.

"I'm... not sure," Molly admitted. Something wasn't right. Even though she knew this glitzy set of lingerie was exactly what she was supposed to be wearing, it made her feel oddly self-conscious, and the prospect of losing her intelligence filled her with unease. "Perhaps I should... um..."

"And how about now?"

Mistress Alexia reached out and started groping one of Molly's tits with her hand, and the brainwashed journalist saw white.

The lewd, desperate voice that left her lips as she moaned was something that, once, would have left Molly too mortified to show her face in public ever again. But now, she couldn't spare the brainpower to feel embarrassed, and similarly, all her worries about her situation dissolved into nothingness.

All she could feel was pleasure.

Her tits felt white-hot as Mistress Alexia massaged them with her skillful fingers, teasing her nipples through her top as if she was trying to milk the intelligence out of Molly. If so, it was working. The delirious pleasure that washed over her was more than enough to drown Molly's rational thoughts, leaving her giggling and moaning with helpless abandon.

Even once Mistress Alexia stopped, Molly was left reeling. Her head felt like it was full of soft cotton as she giggled softly to herself.

"Well?" her mistress prompted.

"I'm... uh... uh..." Molly was struggling to form the thoughts she needed to speak. The audience laughed. "I'm... uh... dumber?"

"That's right!" Mistress Alexia smiled. "And how does that feel?"

Molly wasn't sure. She couldn't deny that she felt good, but there was still something lingering at the back of her mind, bothering her. "I don't-"

Mistress Alexia cut her off by groping her tits again.

Molly almost went limp in her mistress's arms as the older dominatrix stood behind her, reaching around her to squeeze both of her breasts at once. The pleasure was more than Molly could bear. She collapsed into moaning, pawing at herself weakly in a shameless attempt to make herself even better. She could feel her mind draining away as Mistress Alexia touched her - and nothing had ever felt more pleasurable.

Once Mistress Alexia stopped and backed away, Molly was certain she was dumber. She could feel it. Her mind was hopelessly foggy, and with each blissful aftershock that passed up her spine, she let out a ditzy, brainless giggle. She didn't know how much intelligence she'd lost, but it felt like a lot. Her unease with that was at war with the bubbly, bimbo happiness that was starting to grow and grow, encouraged by the adoring, voyeuristic gazes of the women in the audience.

And above all, all that pleasure had left her very, very horny.

"What's wrong, my lovely assistant?" Mistress Alexia asked, as Molly let out a long, whiny, high-pitched moan. "Do you want more?"

Without thinking, Molly nodded. She wanted more pleasure. She wanted to feel good. Her body was demanding it.

The dominatrix giggled. "But then you'll get dumber, right? Is that what you want?"

Molly scrunched her face. What did she want? It was so hard to figure out. She didn't want to get dumber, did she? That didn't sound right at all. Only, why not? She was only a hypnodomme's assistant. What did it matter? And on the other hand, she really did want to feel good. What was holding her back? There was something, there had to be something...

As Molly tried to think through her predicament, her thoughts kept being dragged inexorably back to one thing:

Her tits.

They were just so sensitive. Even the feeling of the tight lingerie top she was wearing was torture. And, after all her years wearing high-neckline tops, having her cleavage exposed to the air was driving her wild. The sight of them alone was really something. It was almost mesmerizing. Two huge, perfectly-shaped globes of flesh, just begging to be touched. Molly wanted that more than anything. She wanted to be touched. Her own tits were becoming her whole world.

Absent-mindedly, driven by nothing more than idle, bimbo curiosity, Molly lifted her tits, pressed them together, and let them fall, sending them both bouncing and jiggling.

As soon as she touched herself, though, she moaned, and felt more of her intelligence dripping away.

"Wow!" Mistress Alexia laughed. "I guess you really do want it."

"Um... n-no." Despite herself, Molly was giggling. She couldn't believe herself. She felt so silly! "I just, um, like, y'know..."

She couldn't finish her own sentence. The growing need in her body was drowning out everything else.

"Mistress!" she suddenly whined, pouting. "I need you to, like, touch me more."

"Oh?" Mistress Alexia replied, as the audience murmured admiringly. "No, I don't think so. How about you just touch yourself?"

"Oh." Molly abruptly remembered something. "But then I'll get, like, dumber?"

"That's right. It's up to you, baby."

Molly groaned in frustration. This was too hard! She couldn't figure it out for herself. She needed someone else to make the decision for her. Did she want to stay smart? Or did she want to grope her own tits? Molly giggled again. Not that she was very smart right now. She'd already lost so much of her own brains. What was a little more? Besides, being smart was such an abstract thing. What did it even matter? Her whole job as Mistress Alexia's assistant was to look pretty, obey, and be hypnotized. That was all. It wasn't like she was a journalist or something. Meanwhile, her tits were right there. They demanded attention. They looked incredible, and her whole body was screaming at her to play with them.

In the end, her brains didn't stand a chance.

Within moments, Molly was openly and shamelessly masturbating with her tits, in front of the entire audience. She paused only to pull down her lingerie top, sending her massive boobs bouncing free so she could touch them even more directly. Her loud, brainless moans filled the Vixen Club, along with the giggles that followed them. After a couple of seconds, Molly was past being able to regret her choice. She wasn't smart enough anymore. She was a hopeless bimbo, making herself dumber by the second.

"See?" Mistress Alexia said, turning to the audience. "Until just this evening, Molly Templeton was writing everywhere she could that my hypnosis was fake. That I was a fraud. Yet here she is, making quite the spectacle of herself! Our intrepid reporter seems to prefer getting herself off to being smart. Look at her, milking out the last few traces of her intelligence and her morals. Do you think she'll be writing something different now?" She laughed to herself. "Well, actually she probably won't be in a fit state to write anything anymore."

Molly didn't even hear her. All her attention was on her own tits.

"Hey, Molly," the dominatrix continued. "Molly?"

It took a few moments for her to get Molly to stop. As much as the hypnotized assistant wanted to keep playing with herself, she couldn't disobey.

"Tell me," Mistress Alexia said, once Molly had managed to stop giggling and moaning for long enough. "Do you remember being a journalist?"

"Um... like... uh... I dunno!" Molly giggled. "What's a journo... journalist?"

Mistress Alexia performed a mock bow towards the audience, who were more than happy to applaud.

"But now, despite how very rude Miss Molly Templeton was to me, I think my new assistant deserves a reward. Don't you?"

As the audience cheered their agreement, Mistress Alexia briefly left the stage - but returned just a few moments later, with a large, black strap-on fastened around her hips.

As dumb as she was, Molly knew exactly what to do. Facing the audience, she spread her legs wide and bent over at the hips, flaunting her flexibility as she stuck her ass out in the air behind her and rested her chest on the floor, with her hands wrapped around her tits so she could keep groping them. Mistress Alexia moved behind her, and then she felt the dominatrix's hands peeling away her lingerie bottoms to expose her pussy, already dripping wetness down onto the stage from how turned on she was.

When Molly felt her mistress's strap-on enter her, she moaned long and loud, a big, dumb, brainless, horny smile plastered over her face.

At moments like these, she knew she was in the perfect job for her.