“So how long have you been hearing voices?” I inquired of the young woman, who had introduced herself as Belle and was sitting across the room from me, looking more then a little unerved. She brushed away strands of her messy long brown hair only to have them fall right back in front of her face as she responded.
“Its not voices, its just one voice, and even then its not really so much a voice as it is as if I was thinking to myself... only I’m thinking things I’d never normally think,” came the nervous, confusing, reply of the woman.
“So... your finding yourself thinking unusual thoughts lately?” I inquired, trying to better understand exactly what I was dealing with. Walk-ins were always a bit of a challenge as far too often they weren’t really forthcoming with the real issues they needed help dealing with, so much of the consultation was usually spent playing detective.
“Unusual would be an understatement...” replied Belle, looking down at her feet. For a moment, as she moved her head, her face peeked through her hair and the incredibly frightened look it revealed sent a shiver down my spine. “Its kind of like I’m stuck in a waking dream. You know how some times when you dream you find yourself doing stuff you’d never dream of doing if you were awake, tight rope walking across a 100 mile deep canyon, hanging out with family members you haven’t spoken with in years as if you were still as close as you were when you were a kid, or kissing men who aren’t your boyfriend even though you’d never dream of even flirting with another man when you’re awake? Well the thoughts in my head, they’re kind of like that, they defy logic or good sense, its like my judgement filter in my brain has some how turned off.”
“Except that can’t be entirely true if you’re aware that the thoughts your having are illogical or in poor judgement. I understand it can be unsettling to think rude or unrealistic thoughts from time to time, but I assure you that we all do it. What seperates people like yourself from those who need to see me regularly is that they can’t filter the good thoughts from the bad ones,” I explained, more or less ready to chalk this woman up to being yet another patient just suffering from too much stress.
“I... I know what your saying, but this isn’t quite the same. Its not like I’m just thinking rude thoughts about some one who cuts me off on the road, those feel like my thoughts, just influenced by anger, but these thoughts, they’re nothing like my normal thoughts, and they don’t just show up when an unexpected event occurs, no they’re always talking to me, they never go away,” replied Belle looking up at me through her mess of hair with eyes that seemed to be pleading to me to understand what she was trying to convey.
“I see... well in that case could you please go into a little more detail for me, what makes these thoughts so different from your normal thoughts,” I said, still not really convinced she wasn’t just making a mountain out of an ant hill, but willing to admit that what ever these thoughts of her’s she was having were, they were clearly upsetting her enough to warrant further investigation.
“Well, most specifically, they’re very... well... sexual...” said the woman, suddenly looking at her feet again and blushing enough that it was visible through her hair. It took all of my will power not to roll my eyes in response. This was going to be another one of THOSE patients, it seemed. “I mean, its not like I never thought about sex before this voice, these thoughts, started appearing in my head, but it was just something I hoped to do with my fiance after we got married, it wasn’t something I thought about constantly and certainly not something I thought about in regards to doing with other men or to... well.. other women...”
Yep, definitely one of those. I didn’t agree with everything Sigmund Freud believed, in fact he was such an extraordinarily sexist ass hole that I’d probably have spit in his face if I’d met him today, but one thing he did have down was that most mental issues did seem to come back to something sexual in the end. I hated these type of patients as, aside from being hard to relate too due to my very satisfactory sex life with my husband, they almost always went some place really weird and uncomfortable. No one ever seemed to just want, you know, a naked loved one of the opposite gender to have sex with, always had to be some disgusting fetish that was the key to their orgasms and was so bizzare and embarassing keeping it hidden was destroying every aspect of their life.
“Rest assured those kind of thoughts are actually quite common too, and very normal,” I said, doing my best to reassure Belle who still looked as if she thought the sky was falling. “Again, its whether or not you act on the thoughts that matters. So tell me, Belle, do you act on these thoughts?”
There was a very long period of ackward silence as Belle chewed one of her nails and looked everywhere in the room but at me as she apparently thought over my question. This was not uncommon either with these type of patients, not wanting to admit to giving into their sick fetishes, but as long as everything they’d done was consentual, there really wasn’t much I could do for them to make their feelings go away, all I could really do was be a safe place for them to talk about their feelings and hopefully remove some of their burden of guilt in the process. Now if the woman was raping people or indecently exposing herself, then behavioral modification was going to have to come into play.
“Yes and no,” responded Belle at last, cryptically. “I don’t directly act on them, but the voice, the thoughts... they make the things they want happen, they make their perverse desires into reality.”
Now that was not a response I was used to getting, nor one I was quite clear on how to respond to. Did she mean to imply she had a split personality. I’d heard conflicting reports on whether or not those really existed, but I’d personally never come across one.
“I’m not sure I follow, how do you make your fantasies a reality if you don’t directly act on them?” I inquired, hoping to dig a little further.
“Well first off, they’re not my fantasies, I mean they’re in my own voice in my thoughts in my head, but I’ve never, would never...” stammered Belle looking part offended and ashamed. “I mean the point is that I don’t actually do anything, the voice just states something that some one or thing should do or be, and if I acknowledge the thought, then some how it does or is that way.”
This response didn’t help me much, if anything it seemed to make things even more confusing. I had a new theory now, however, one which perhaps could make sense, I just hoped I was wrong.
“So wait, so you don’t just think about these fantasies occuring, you physically see them manifest themselves in front of you?” I inquired, hoping for her sake she’d say no.
“Yes, thats it, thats it exactly!” replied Belle looking a little relieved for the first time since she’d sat down in front of me.
Curses, I thought, so she’s not just hearing voices, she’s seeing things that aren’t real, it would appear Belle is sick after all, but in the traditional sense and not just in her taste of fetish.
“But you know they’re not really there?” I inquired to further understand the state of her disorder.
“No no no, they ARE there, one minute they aren’t, but the next they are really, truly, there!” argued Belle.
“And other people acknowldge these things have manifested themselves as well?” I inquired further, starting to feel pity for the poor girl.
“Well... yes and no ,” responded Belle for the second time in the last 5 minutes, though this time far more predictably. “I mean, some times I can see this look in their eyes briefly where they seem to be thinking ‘wait, why am I doing this’ or ‘this wasn’t here a second ago, was it?’, but then a moment later they’re acting like things were always like that from the start like everyone else.”
Now that I didn’t predict. So was she implying that rather then imagining things that weren’t really there, she would imagine things that were there, weren’t, and then only realize they were there when other people acknowldged them as being there, grounding herself back in reality? This woman was starting to give me a head ache...
“You... you don’t believe me, do you...” stated Belle looking dejected. “I mean, I’d try to show you, some times I can control the thoughts when I purposely think something I know my dirty thoughts will like, but you’ll be just like the rest of them and won’t realize anythings changed at all...”
And the plot thickens further. So which was it, was she imagining things that weren’t there, or blinding herself to things that were, or both, it wasn’t quite clear. What was clear was that Belle definitely needed more help then I was trained to give her.
“You know, this is a little outside my personal area of expertise, but I know a really good doctor I can recommend to you, he deals with cases like yours far more frequently and has had alot of success with the right medications,” I said, not so much wanting to pass the buck as knowing when I’m in over my head. This response, however, seemed to cause Belle to look even more terror stricken then she’d been yet.
“No, you can’t, I need help now, by the time I see anyone else, who knows what else my voice, my thoughts, will have done!” half yelled, half sobbed the woman.
“I’ll specifically request he get you in for his next avaialble appointment, but I really...” I started to say before I was cut off.
“Okay then, I’ll do it, I’ll show you what the voice, what my thoughts, can do if I give in to the pervision. I want you to take a good look at what your wearing right now,” stated Belle. I briefly considered trying to argue but relented and played along. I was wearing one of my usual work outfits, a grey jacket over a white blouse, grey slacks, black socks, and black leather business shoes. “Now remember what you just saw and look at your outfit again.”
This time I couldn’t restrain myself from rolling my eyes but played along as, after shaking off a strange shifting sensation, I looked down at myself to confirm I was still wearing a short grey vest over my low cut blouse, with matching grey miniskirt, black pantiehose, and 4 inch black business heels, not my usual business attire, but it was nice to shake things up every now and again.
“So do you see what I mean?” inquired Belle looking at my expectantly. She quickly surmised, however, that I did not see. “Okay how about this, this time tell me, state aloud what your wearing, and write it down too if you wouldn’t mind, I’ve never tested if messages written down are effected as well before.”
Again I considered arguing but relented when I saw just how desperate her eyes looked.
“I’m wearing a grey vest over my blouse, with matching grey miniskirt, black pantiehose, and black business heels,” I stated, while at the same time writing everything down on my note pad I’d been taking notes on.
“Don’t forget to note your under wear as well as things your not wearing, like the fact you have nothing in your hair,” replied Belle.
“I’ll note that I’m not wearing anything in my hair, but your crossing a line here asking about my under wear,” I said, not forgetting that Belle had mentioned early that she’d recently begun fantasizing about women.
“I don’t need specifics, just like, if your wearing a conservertive set of under wear, note that, and its color,” asked Belle, suddenly surprisingly bold considering how timid she’d been up to this point.
“Fine, I’m wearing conservative white under wear,” I said, relenting yet again simply because I wanted this pointless exercise over with already.
“Okay, good, now read back to me what you wrote,” said Belle. I didn’t really see why, did she not trust I’d written what I said I had? Even if I’d been fake writing, it was hardly a long list of things to read back from memory. Still, after shaking off another odd shifting sensation, I complied.
“I noted that I’m wearing a black bow tie collar with a hot pink mesh top, a hot pink micro-skirt, black thigh high fish net stockings, and hot pink 6 inch high heel shoes. I’m also wearing hot pink bunny ears in my hair, no bra, and a hot pink crotchless thong,” I said reading off the list.
“And does that all seem correct to you?” inquired Belle, confusingly. I looked down at my self and confirmed that was indeed what I was still wearing, did her mental disorder make her believe I’d been wearing something else previously? “Or better yet, can you tell me WHY you’re dressed like you are?”
I started to open my mouth to tell her that I was dressed for work when it occured to me... this outfit wasn’t appropriate for work at all. Hell, there were probably strip clubs that this outfit wouldn’t be considered appropriate for considering how little the outfit obscured my nether regions. Why had I worn this outfit to work, or at all. Hell, why had I ever purchased such an outfit? I had to assume I’d picked it up as a ‘present’ for my husband at some point, but I couldn’t actually remember ever wearing it for him, and I could understand why, this was the very sort of fetish like clothing I tried to keep out of our bedroom for fear of it becoming a slippery slope toward the sort of things I spent far too much of my life hearing about at work on a daily basis.
“You see! I can see it in your eyes, you know my dirty thoughts changed your outfit! Oh I knew I was right to come to you!” stated Belle gleefully.
Of course I didn’t know anything of the sort, something strange was definitely going on, but one thing I was certain of was that I’d been wearing this outfit all day, and certainly since Belle had arrived. Part of me wanted to play along, pretend to see what Belle wished I saw just to make her happy, but ultimately I knew that would serve no purpose other then the further her psychosis and making her more resistent to seeing another doctor better suited to actually helping her overcome her delusions.
“What I know is that YOU think your thoughts changed my outfit, and thats precisely why we need to get you to a doctor who can better help you over come this affliction,” I responded, trying to steer the conversation back to where I knew it needed to go.
“Oh my gosh, you STILL don’t believe me!? But... but I can’t, I can’t give in anymore to show you more, as it is I’m already having trouble telling the voice no, I’ve given it a taste and now it wants more...” stated Belle suddenly looking very frightened again.
“And what IS it telling you it wants?” I inquired, not really wanting to know what her twisted mind was thinking, but becoming increasingly aware that Belle truly had no intention of seeing anyone else I might recommend to her.
“No, I can’t say it, if I say it, it will happen. Thats how it works, when I let my thoughts or words converge with the thoughts or words in my head, those thoughts or words become real. That’s what makes this so hard, to hear these thoughts in my head all day, every day, and have to constantly ignore them, actively refuse to acknowldge them, its exhausting, and if I don’t get help soon, if I can’t make the thoughts go away, I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to fight it anymore,” responded Belle.
“I’m sorry Belle, but whether you tell me, or another doctor bettter suited to help you, you need to get out these thoughts that are tormenting you or we won’t be able to help you. Part of overcoming mental illness is acknowlding what it is your overcoming,” I explained.
“All... alright, I’ll try... I’ll try to find something no so bad... oh but its all so bad... but... hmm...” stated Belle looking incredibly frazled as her hand brushed back her tattered bangs and her eyes searched the room for something. “So... so the voice... it says that your lighting in here should be set up so that the room is darker, so that the room is only dimly lit, cast in the sort of lighting meant to set a seductive mood, and should have a dedicated light on you at all times that can be changed to different colors with a switch.”
Now that was worrying.
“First, as you said at the beginning, this isn’t a voice, its just you, your own thoughts, so I think its best if you refer to your thoughts as such. By refering to your thoughts as a voice you make them foriegn and increase your likely hood of being upset by them, regardless of the content of the thoughts. Second... you just described how my office’s lighting IS set up, do you think, perhaps, that these thoughts you’re having are not bad at all, but simply a part of yourself trying to pull you out of the actual delussion?” I inquired. While it wasn’t something I’d personally encountered before, it did make sense, the version of Belle I was actively speaking with was actually the delusional one and these thoughts she was so afraid of were actually the sane part of herself trying to make her acknowldge reality for what it was. Since the part of her that was currently in control didn’t want to acknowldge reality, it had formed some sort of fake world for itself to escape from it, thus why a voice that was trying to make her acknowldge reality was so upsetting.
“No no no, you don’t understand, the lighting wasn’t like that until I said it was, the voi... er... my thoughts, they made it that way, and if I don’t get help soon, they will do things far worse then install mood lighting in your office. I’m trying to tell you, my... my thoughts, they don’t just change things, they change people, even personalities,” argued Belle sending me a frustrated look from behind her hair.
“Okay okay, lets try tackling this from a different angle. When did you first notice these thoughts of yours?” I offered. Perhaps if we could determine what it was that caused Belle’s active mind to want to escape from reality, I could help return to it.
“I... I don’t remember. I mean, I know I wasn’t always like this, didn’t always have these thoughts, but when I try to think back to when it started, the voice... I mean my thoughts, they get louder, so loud I can’t concentrate, can’t think straight. I... I think it had something to do with my fiance... something I was trying to do for him... something to make our honey moon extra special... but... but thats as far as I can get... all I know for sure is that whatever it was, it went horribly wrong,” responded Belle, tears creeping into her eyes again. “For a while I thought my fiance was the key to making the thoughts go away, I don’t know why I thought that, but I just felt certain it was the case, but... but... when I try to think about him... anything about him... what he liked to wear... what he looks like... even what his name was... the voice... my thoughts... they won’t let me think... I tryed to go to my friends and family, to have them remind me... but... but the thoughts... they made them forget too... made them forget I ever even had a fiance... and... and the other things it made me do to them... my gosh... please you’ve gotta help me...”
Well this was an interesting new twist. Apparently whatever had happened to her had been so traumatizing she was blocking it out and that in response to whatever occured her mind apparently fabricated a fake fiance. Perhaps she had been rejected badly by some one she truly cared for? If so perhaps Belle didn’t need to be medicated at all, perhaps her issue wasn’t chemical, but self imposed. If so this might just be something I could help her with after all.
“Okay, I think I can help you after all Belle, but to do so you’re going to have to trust me, can you trust me Belle?” I inquired. Belle looked up at me with both hopeful and worried eyes before nodding her head in affirmation. “Good, then what I need you to do first is to slowly and calmly tell me everything your thoughts are telling you. If these thoughts are indeed changing reality as you believe, and trying to fight them is indeed exhausting you as you say, then we need to take this burden off you before we can do any further healing. If the thoughts are not changing things, but are simply helping you dispell the illusions you currently see around you as I suspect, then it will help, at least for the time being, ground you enough in reality that we can hopefully bring you to see that reality is not quite as scary a thing as you think its.”
This was clearly not the request Belle had been hoping I’d make of her as her face became even more terror filled then I’d seen it yet, and at this point that was truly saying something.
“But I just told you, the things my thoughts tell me, they’re dirty, horrible, things, that should never be said!” argued Belle in a panic.
“And I understand that, but I also understand that you just told me you’d trust me and I sware to you, if you want to get better, you need to do this,” I consoled, wondering what parts of reality she wasn’t seeing that she thought were so ‘dirty’. She had already acknowldged my admittedly slutty outfit and the some what strip club like lighting in my office, everything else about my office was as tame and boring as an office could possibly be.
“Oh... okay, I’ll do it... but once I start... I... I can’t promise I’ll be able to stop... so you... you have to promise me, if my thoughts try to change you... try to change your thoughts... you’ll fight it... you’ll hold onto yourself,” begged Belle.
“I promise,” I responded confidently.
“Well... first... I think... I think instead of a sitting behind a desk... you should be up on a stage...” said Belle, finally aknowldging that unlike most psychologists I didn’t have a desk, but rather sat atop a stage. “And instead of sitting in a chair... I think you should be seductively straddling a stripper pole...”
As I continued to slide up and down the stripper pole I’d had installed in my office suggestively, I couldn’t help but smile. Belle really was making great progress.
“And I think your tits should be much larger, going from your boring Bs to massive double Ds... no... triple Js... oh... I’m so sorry, I tryed to hold back but the voice, it keeps pushing me further,” said Belle suddenly appologizing for some reason.
“Don’t appologize, while I admit I’m not found of them being reffered to as tits, I do have to special order triple J bras, so you’re actually quite impressive to guess my size so accurately. And don’t forget, its not a voice, its you, they’re your thoughts,” I emphasized while cursing myself for not wearing a bra today as my pole dancing was causing my gigantic chest to flop every which way.
“And... and... oh gosh... I think you should prefer that they be called tits, and I think that they aren’t all natural and saggy, but unnaturally firm and bouncy do to them being implants. I... I also think that you got your implants specifically because you wanted people to refer to your boobs as tits, or jugs, or knockers, or fun bags, or really any sort of tasteless nickname for them. What’s more I think you never wear bras because you actually love the way they bounce around, and that that’s also why you specifically had your back and you’re hooters enhanced so that now matter how old you get or how much abuse you’re chest pillows take, they’ll never sag or ‘burst’,” continued Belle still looking guilty as if she’d done something wrong.
“Again don’t look so guilty, they’re nothing wrong with feeling that way, if truth be told I actually do prefer they be called fun little nicknames, I just don’t normally admit that, and you are correct about the enhanced back and tit surgery, seemed far more logical to spend a little more now then to be cheap on my surgery only to spend top dollar on special order bras later, not to mention miss out on this delightful bounce,” I said as I continued to straddle my pole, causing my jugs to pleasantly bounce and jiggle.
“No... no I can’t go on, the things it... I mean, the things I’m thinking, I can’t say them, I can’t do that too you...” Belle suddenly said, tears back in her eyes again.
“Belle, your not doing anything to me, and until you acknowldge that, you’re not going to be able to get better,” I argued. The only thing super natural going on here was her ability to read things in me that no one else knew. Perhaps her disconnect from reality gave her alternate personality enhanced perception, like a blind person being able to make out things through their other senses some one with sight likely would miss.
“But... but it... I’m thinking that you love to have things between your tits, especially anything phallic shaped, and that you specifically had the skin on the inside of your tatas enhanced as well so that it would be so sensitive that even lightly rubbing something between your melons drives you wild with pleasure. And... I... I’m thinking that because you don’t wear bras and you’re bazooms are always slapping up against each other, that you’re in a constant state of arousal which you relieve primarily by tittie fucking phallic shaped objects till you orgasm, and since its only a matter of minutes, some times even seconds, before the rubbing brings you back to this state, you ‘relieve’ yourself constantly, with indifference to who might be watching,” said Belle blushing a huge shade a red.
“Yes, well in your defense.... ah... I admit I may... oooh... be putting those thoughts into.... oooom... into your head with my.... my... oooooh yes.... my current actions,” I managed to get out between moans as I began to run the stripper pole between my tits, aware but indifferent of the fact that my mesh top, that had already been stretched to its limit, was now beginner to come apart, as it was really only getting in the way of my achieving orgasm anyway.
“Oh no... its getting worse... its... I’m... I’m going to start changing who you are... how you think... we have to stop... but its so hard to stop now...” said Belle frantically.
“I assure you, nothing you can... oooh yeah.... can do or say is going to... oh hell yesssss.... to change who I am or how.... mmmmm... how I think, now please Belle, you’re... ooooh gosh... you’re doing great, you’ve just gotta... ooooh ooooh oooooh... gotta keep going,” I advised Belle, though on some level I think I was advising myself as well. My orgasm was so close now, I just had to keep going, keep going a little bit longer...
“No no.... you see... its because... it thinks... I think... think that starting today you’ve decided that from now on you’re only going to offer one type of therapy, a new type of therapy that you’ve been building your office to accommodate since you started, what you call strip therapy, wherein you perform a strip tease for your patient in addition to, or even in lieu of, your normal therapy. I also... also think that no matter what issue a patient might present you with, no matter what misgivings you might have about performing a strip tease for them, nor how little sense it makes to you that doing so will help, the only therapy you’ll ever be able to think of to suggest is strip therapy, and as you are too embarrassed to admit that there probably is a better therapy that you just can’t think of, you will always confidently claim that strip therapy is not only the best, but the only option, and always go through with it in spite of any embarrassment of uncomfortableness you might feel.” whimpered Belle.
This actually gave me pause, I hadn’t actually told anyone about my new therapy plans, had I? Then again, I would think it would be pretty obvious what my intentions were from the state of my attire and the fact that I’d effectively had my office made into a 1 woman strip stage. Still, Belle’s true self’s having realized I was only actually suggesting this therapy because I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t think of anything else was nothing short of amazing, even if it did make me feel a little ashamed and further embarrassed. Of course I’d never admit that to her, and besides, even if it didn’t make sense how this would help, that didn’t mean it couldn’t help... right? Actually, the more I thought about it, the more I found myself feeling extraordinarily unsure... No! I’d put too much time into this new therapy to question it now... well... maybe not time, I hadn’t even really thought about this therapy until just now, but I had put a ton of money into making this stage so there was that... except... for some reason I couldn’t really remember buying or having this stage installed...
The light of hope suddenly flashed from the eyes beneath the long bangs in the chair across from my stage.
“Wait!? You’re seeing the inconsistencies again, aren’t you!? You’re seeing that the things I just said are wrong!” came the suddenly excited announcement of Belle, as she stood up in her seat, hands clasped tightly in excitement. “Please, PLEASE don’t just had wave them away again, if you care about me at all, care about yourself for goodness sake, hang onto that doubt, see the things you’ve made me do to you!”
While I wasn’t especially fond of the backhanded remark Belle had just made suggesting I’d made her do something to me, and I really wanted to deny Belle again, to refute her accusation that anything was amiss, the fact remained that I could not answer a question as simple as when did I change my office to a stripper stage... I might forget when I bought an outfit, but I wouldn’t forget an entire remodeling of my office... Was something actually going on here... but that was impossible... and yet... why couldn’t I explain it...
“I think you’re absolutely certain there is an explanation for anything I’ve pointed out or will point out as odd and thus it is not worth wasting time thinking about anything that my revelations might otherwise have made you question,” said Belle before immediately clasping her hands over her mouth and giving me a horrified and shocked look. “Oh my gosh, no, ignore that, I... I think you’re getting me started with letting it... my other me.. talk, its weakened my ability to hold it in... but... but you have to ignore what I just said, PLEASE!”
I smirked at that. It was almost comical how intensely Belle’s current persona wished to deny the reality’s that her true self so clearly identified. Of course it was partially my own fault for even questioning something that didn’t necessitate being questioned, there by negatively reinforcing that her reality she saw was the right one, and not the true one her other personality saw.
“I’m sorry Belle, but I can’t ignore the truth, and everything your true self has said here today has been spot on, and speaking of which, its probably about time we got this strip therapy session truly under way via the removal of some of this clothing, don’t you think?” I said as I began to run my hands over my body seductively before removing my bow tie collar and tossing it aside. I had to admit, this all felt very wrong, I’d never even done anything like this for my husband before, but I wasn’t about to stop, no matter how wrong it might feel and how illogical it might be, this was the only therapy I could think to suggest, and whether or not I had reason to believe it would actually help did not matter, would be a waste of time to even think about, all that was important was that I remained confident in front of Belle that it was not only the best option, but the only option.
“Please... even if you lost hold of whatever it was you’d saw was wrong before... please you have to stop doing... doing what your doing... seeing you do that... its only encouraging it... I mean... only encouraging me, my thoughts, even more. It was hard enough before but.... but now they’re so loud its almost impossible not to... to think about them, not to... to let myself say them...” pleaded Belle.
“Then don’t fight it, say when you need to say, get it off your chest,” I said upon removing the pole from between my tits, seductively removing my tattered mesh top, and leaning forward so that my now completely exposed milk shakes began to bobble and sway pleasantly beneath me.
“Oh gosh... I can’t... I mean... you’re ass... it... I mean I... I think your ass should also be larger, I think it should have 700cc butt implants, obnoxiously large implants that were put in with the express purpose being to give you an especially large, intentionally comically so, bubble butt. It... I also think that you got these implants, got all your implants, because you feel very admantly that woman in the work place should not be taken seriously, that outside of jobs that allow them to express their sexuality like stripping, pornography, phone sex, and prostitution, women can not be trusted to accomplish anything deserving of pay. Thus, as a woman with job that requires you to do more then just bring some one to sexual release, you want to do everything you can to decrease the odds of others taking you seriously, of foolishly believing you could actually provide meaningful therapy,” stated Belle as I’d requested, much to my disappointment. Why was she still doing what I was asking of her, still treating me with respect as if she still thought I knew what I was doing? My appearance aside, I was trying to cure her split personality disorder by stripping for her for goodness sake. And she even knew that I was only doing it because I stupidly couldn’t think of anything better to do. This sexist way of thinking girls were taught these days was only going to get people hurt, I mean for goodness sake, Belle here clearly needed real therapy, and that certainly wasn’t going to happen talking to a woman like myself.
“I’m so, so sorry...” said Belle, looking incredibly embarassed and ashamed.
“If you’re going to be sorry, be sorry for thinking a woman could possible provide you adequate therapy, or for not turning and running when you saw that I had both tits and ass cheeks the size of my head, but don’t be sorry for stating reality as it is,” I corrected. “Frankly, you’d have a better chance of getting help from a seeing a fortune teller or following your daily horoscope.”
No sooner had I finished my sentence then Belle brushed back her bangs to reveal the widest eyes I’d ever seen on a person, alive or dead.
“F...f... fortune teller.... that’s... THAT’S IT!!!” exclaimed Belle so loudly I almost I actually stumbled on the stage. “The voice is trying to block my train of thought but its too late... I remember, I’m remembering it all!”
“It was... a week before my wedding... oh my gosh I can’t believe I forgot my wedding... and, and I’d gone to see a local mystic to bless our marriage. My fiancé tried to talk me out of it, as he’s very anti witch craft and fortune tellers and that sort of thing, but all my friends kept pushing me to go anyway, they said they swore by her, said her charms really worked, gave them good luck, happy lives, all that. Truth be told, I didn’t really buy into all that like my friends, but I also didn’t think anything bad could come of it either, I thought it was all just sort of placebo type stuff, but if it gave people positive out looks, I didn’t see an issue with that, and I knew how much it meant to my friends that I went, so I did, figuring what could it hurt,” explained Belle, eyes distant but intense as she seemed to be struggling to remain focused on the memory she was sharing. “When... when I arrived and explained my situation to the old mystic she pulled out an old dusty book and a strange green vial and told me she normally only dabbled in minor charms, but my friends were some of her best customers so for me she was going to try something really powerful, really special. The vial, she told me, contained the blood of a succubus, a demon who fed off sexuality, and that I was to drink it after she finished casting a special charm on me. If everything went as planned, she said that I would become the best lover that a husband could ever have, and upon consumating our marriage, the energy would flow between the two of us, forever making us the perfect bed mate for the other.”
“Be... before she cast the spell or handed me the vial, however, she warned me that I absolutely had to be a virgin or the spell would go terribly awry. I was... was sure I was a virgin, having never been with anyone else before, and told her as such, so she cast the spell and I drank the vial... and that.... thats when everything went horribly wrong. The voice, the dirty thoughts, they started flowing through out my head. When I told the mystic she became terrified, confirming again that I’d never been touched ‘down there’ before. I advised her again that I had not, at least not by another person, and I’d only ever touched myself once or twice in highschool. At hearing that the Mystic became terrorfied and begged me run to my fiance at once. She told me that my self touching had corrupted the spell, that a demon obsessed with corruption, degradation, and sex was now within me, and the only way to cast it out was to make love with the one I truly loved, that only true love was immune to its power, and could thus free me from it. I... I only barely heard her say that, however, as the voice... the voice had become too loud, it thought the mystic was not a real mystic, but in fact a dumb horny nypmphomaniac, who only pretended to be a mystic so that when her charms failed, her customers would let her make it up to them with sexual favors... and just for a moment I thought about the possibility that was the case... and then it was! Gone were all the charms and old books, replaced by clearly fake nick nacks and bargin bin ‘spells for dummies’ books, and gone was the wise old mystic, replaced by a woman whose eyes showed of pure lust. When the now fake mystic offered to eat me out in exchange for her failed spell, I screamed and ran, ran as far as I could, but I could never run away from the voice, the dirty thoughts which claimed to be my own and said only the most horrible of things. That... that’s right, and thats why I was trying to find my fiance... even though the voice wouldn’t let me remember anything about him. Oh... oh gosh, thank you so much, now I know the truth again, I’ve just some how got to sleep with my fiance and then... then this nightmare can be at last ended!”
Despite how close I was to orgasm once again do to the fact that I’d spent the entirety of her “story” tit fucking my pole, I stopped where I stood, mouth agape. I’d heard a lot of strange and twisted things in my time as a psychiatrist, albeit a sham of one, but this story definitely took the cake. Maybe if I’d been a man I might have been able to see through the oddity of it all and understand how each element of the story represented some issue we needed to work through together, been able to help this clearly mentally disturbed young woman, but as a woman myself all I could do was stand there, not even able to continue with my strip therapy. By the time I even came back to my senses, Belle had just gotten off the phone.
“That was him! He’s on his way over here. The voice of the demon in my head was screaming, trying to make me say things to him, but some how with him its as if the voice has no power over me. Perhaps this is related to what the Mystic said about true love being immune?” asked Belle, smiling more brightly then any one person has any right to smile.
“Well... uh...” I said, still not really sure what was happening or what to do. Was her story actually true!? No, there was no point questioning any revelation she made... but if I didn’t question it... did that mean I had to believe it... sheesh, even for a woman I was an especially bad therapist...
“Regardless, I think its going to be hard to convince him to consummate our marriage prior to the ceremony... although... now that I think about it... its been about a week since this whole thing started, could today be... oh my gosh!!! It is! Today IS our wedding. With him by my side maybe, no, I KNOW I will have the strength to control this till the ceremony is over!” exclaimed Belle while pumping a fist in the air triumphantly. “The question is just what to do until he gets here, the voice is practically screaming in my head right now, and I don’t think its ever been this loud, been this hard to ignore it, but I have to, have to for just a little bit longer.”
A thought occurred to me then. I couldn’t help this poor women with her psychosis, but there was something else that was very important to me that maybe I could help with.
“Well while we wait, I’m curious Belle, what do you do for a living?” I asked.
This seemed to surprise Belle, but not necessarily in a bad way. In fact after thinking about my question for a moment, Belle even smiled.
“That’s perfect, something to keep my mind off the... the dirty thoughts,” said Belle brightly. “Well I’m actually a grade school teacher, if you can believe it.”
That was exactly what I’d feared. What could be worse then an unqualified woman trying to teach the youth of our generation.
“Do you plan to keep teaching after your married?” I further inquired.
“Well of course,” replied Belle looking a little confused. “Why do you ask?”
“Well don’t you think, you know, you’d be better suited to say, pornography?” I said, in offering a job avenue better suited to some one of her gender.
“Me, in pornography!?” came a half offended, half surprised reply from Belle but then, almost an instant later I felt, as I had many times today, another slight shift in the air, and Belle’s expression changed to one of embarrassment. “I... I am.... am in pornography....”
So she was a grade school teacher doing porn on the side... wow, this woman was even less suited for her job then I was to mine.
“But.... but I wans’t... I mean... you made me think... and it latched on....” came a confused garble of words from Belle. “No... no more questions... lets just... just sit quietly till my fiancé arrives...”
Of course I wasn’t about to let this stand, knowingly allow a woman to have a perfectly reasonable job for women yet be teaching children as well!
“I say this not as a psychiatrist but as some one who cares about children, Belle, you need to quit teaching! Being both a porn star and a teacher, you’re corrupting young girls minds, setting a terrible example for them! What if one of them grows up and becomes a teacher too because of you for goodness sakes!?” I demanded, not mincing words any further.
This clearly caused Belle to become taken aback.
“No! You’ve got it backwards! I’m a bad role model for them because I’m in porn, not because of the teaching!” Belle defended.
“Wait, so you admit then that you’re a bad role model, yet your still teaching, what kind of monster are you?” I accused, not even remotely professionally but hey, being a woman, what could you expect. Besides, having been brought to the edge of orgasm and denied so many times now had left me feeling a little agitated. Speaking of which, this seemed like as good as time as any to get back to tit fucking my stripper pole, so I returned to doing just that while Belle merely gaped at me in shock at my words.
“How... how could you say... why would you... I...” muttered Belle, looking nearly as disheveled as she had when she’d first arrived. “No, I can’t let you... let it... the voice... its trying to use my emotions... use them to... weaken my resolve...”
I felt the shift again almost in time with Belle’s last 3 words and at once I could see a noticeable change in her demeanor. Her mouth was literally quivering as she desperately struggled to hold back whatever it was she desperately wanted to say.
“No... must... must think of my fiancé... just need to last a little longer.. can’t wait for the wedding anymore... some how he’ll understand... I just need to have sex with him... just... just need to have sex...” stumbled Belle before another shift came. “Oh... oh gosh... I need it... I NEED to have sex... ”
And I could tell it was true, the look in her eye left no room for doubt, while there was still a wild fear in her eyes, what once I might have described as a look of love as she thought of her fiancé was now but one of pure lust. It seemed we were finally to the truth of the matter.
“I know I’m... mmm... just a woman... oooooh... so I’m hardly... aaaaah... a trusted source... oh oh oh.... yet I think... ttttttttthink I finally know whats going... going.... oooooooooh.... GOING ON HERE!!!” I cried out as I finally achieved orgasm. After taking a moment to catch my breadth, I continued. “All your problems, I believe, can be traced back to one real issue, that you need to get laid, BADLY.”
While this didn’t remove the look of lust from Belle’s eyes it did make them open wider and caused her to re-notice me in the room, as she’d seemingly been lost in some sort of lustful fantasy.
“Or to put it another way, all your talk of true love is just a cover, the reality is you only want your fiancé for sex, and your refusal to admit that fact is what has caused this second personality to appear,” I conjectured. I was sure my thoughts couldn’t be trusted, but as if from habit I felt compelled to share them.
“NOOO!!!!” Denied Belle, looking almost frighteningly wild now, but she made no move toward me, instead she just stared at me, her eyes still filled with lust, though I could tell still not for me, she was looking at me, but she wasn’t seeing me, her eyes were distant.
“Belle? What is this?” came the voice of a man, breaking the tension. In the door to my office stood a man of about 6 foot, with short, well groomed black hair, and a face that revealed a man who was clearly confused beyond further words.
“I’ll explain everything later, but right now you HAVE to do me Shawn!” came the forceful answer of Belle, her wild, lustful expression now turned on the man I had to assume was her fiancé. This time there was no distant look to her eyes, they had found their target, and smoldered with desire.
“What!? But... but Belle, I thought we agreed to wait till...” started the fiancé before being interrupted by Belle.
“I know what we agreed, and I’m so sorry that our first time has to be like this, but you HAVE to trust me Shawn, you just have to, we NEED to have sex, right now. It can’t wait even another minute!” declared Belle, looking wilder and more craven by the second.
Despite what his fiancé was asking of him, and even more so how she was looking at him, the man she’d called Shawn surprised me by turning his attention to me.
“But... I mean, who is that woman there, and did... did you mean in FRONT of her?” asked the man.
Belle didn’t even try to answer this time, instead she ran straight at the man, tackling him, and beginning to forcibly disrobe him.
“She’s my... my therapist...” finally answered Belle through heavy breathing as she continued to disrobe her fiancé, then moved on to herself. “And yes, YES, I don’t care who sees at this point, I just need you to fuck me!”
I considered for a moment if I should step in, after all, my patient appeared to be effectively raping this man I’d never met before, but then one more thing I did not expect happened.
“Okay Belle, I don’t know what this is all about, but... but I thought I’d lost you, and now your back... and clearly something I don’t understand has happened here... but... but I’m not losing you again... so... so I’m going to trust you, do what you need to do,” replied the man.
And so, instead, I just stood there, awkwardly watching a patient and a stranger fuck on the floor of my office. I suppose I could have left, but truth be told, I was already horny again myself, and had begun re-tit humping my stripper pole. Almost in time with myself I watched and heard them get closer and closer to release.
“Oh... oh gosh Belle, this... this feels sooo good... please... please don’t stop,” said the straddled fiancé as Belle, who showed not the slightest intention of even slowing, continued to pump away at him.
“Oh... oh Shawn... don’t worry... I want this... want you... want you so bad... that’s all I’ve ever wanted... to fuck you!” cried out Belle... before gasping, covering her mouth in shock at her own words... then.. with another of those strange shift sensations, looking down at Shawn in new found horror. “No... no... its... its true... I ... never loved you... I don’t love you... I only ever wanted you for sex...”
“What!?” came an understandably surprised and horrified respond from Shawn. I watched as all “passion” drained from his face.
“No no no! Don’t go soft, you won’t deny me the one thing I’ve ever wanted!” came the frightening response of Belle. “Besides, you shouldn’t mind, you should be happy, after all, all you’ve ever wanted was to be fucked by me, again and again, until death do us part!”
With another shift I saw Shawn’s face change once more, this time the passion returning anew.
“You’re... you’re right... that is what I’ve always wanted!” stated Shawn, with renewed conviction, and then, almost as if on cue, both of them cried out in unquestionable orgasm.
I achieved another of my own, shortly there after, which drew Belles attention to me for what would be the final time.
“Oh that’s right, before I go and spend the rest of my life fucking this wonderful man here, I should thank you,” said Belle through strangely focused eyes. I couldn’t quite place my finger on what it was about them, but something just seemed... different, as if an entirely different woman was looking at me then had been up until this point. “After all, if you hadn’t put that dirty little thought that I only wanted my fiancé for sex in my head, I never would have found this bliss. So thank you. As a parting gift, let it be known that you shall never want for patients, and that any female who visits your office, as a patient or other wise, shall leave sharing your beliefs in a woman’s place in the work place.”
I didn’t know why, but as she said it, and I felt that odd shift sensation one last time, I knew what she’d said was true.
I would never see Belle or her fiancé again, but every now and again I’d hear about mass out breaks of debauchery appearing around the world and inspite of myself could not help but smile. I couldn’t tell you why, but some how I just knew that Belle had been near by, and that she was continuing to get what she needed for her mental well being, a good fuck.
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