blquick
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Exposure Therapy, Pt 1
🕑 Added 2022-12-08 23:19:00 +0000 UTCThis is a new Patreon-only series written with FinalChange. Enjoy! — B.L. Quick
"Bree, I can see you are doubtful of ever acclimating to your new body. I detect some heavy resistance within you. You aren't doing the acclimation exercises and you barely speak at sessions. I'm honestly not even sure why you even came to me."
"My friend said you could help."
"But do you even want help?"
"I mean. . ."
"How did you spend this week?"
"Sleeping mostly."
"Because you are depressed?"
"I guess."
"Again. This evasion. This inexactness from you. These answers get us no closer to the goal."
"What is the goal?"
"To be okay."
"And what is okay?"
"Well, I'm not changing back, am I?"
"Sigh. Bree. I'm going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer them without evasion or inexactness or I'm kicking you out of my office. This isn't a threat. Simply: you are wasting your time and my time. So do you want to walk out now or can I ask my first question?"
"Fine. You can ask."
"What was it like to see your body for the first time?"
"I had been in bed. The virus makes you sick. Very sick. Convulsions, body aches, sweating. I had sweat through my sheets. I could tell I was changing, but I was too sick to care. My bones ached from compressing in on themselves. My hips ached from widening. I was a foot and a half shorter. My head ached to the point I couldn't see straight, not even my form in the mirror when I went to the bathroom. Everything hurt. I felt like dying, to be quite honest. I was in bed for a week until. . ."
"Until what?"
"Until I woke up and felt nothing."
"What did you do?"
"I went to the bathroom."
"And what did you see?"
"You know what I saw."
"Say it."
"I saw. . . I saw I had grown breasts. Three nights before I had been feeling up my girlfriend in a movie theater as we made out. And now I had my own pair."
"What did they feel like?"
"I dunno. Like an allergic reaction. I had seen the area around my nipples beginning to swell the morning I knew I had contracted the virus. My aereola were pinker. Puffy. But I didn't expect. . . "
"You didn't expect what?"
"The way they would hang. The way they felt when I lifted them and let go. The way my nipples had moved from their place against my chest. That I was stuck with them."
"Did you touch them."
"Not for long. When I did, I thought of what had made them grow."
"What had made them grow?"
"Estrogen. Oxytocin. Feminine hormones and the virus working in concert to develop my dormant mammary glands. I couldn't fathom I had tits. Tits that could give milk should I ever get pregnant. It send a pulse of fear through my pelvis. So I went to get a mirror."
"What for?"
"To check."
"And when you looked in the mirror what did you see?"
"I was disgusted. All I can say is my cock was gone and left with a pussy. I leapt from the counter in disgust, but even fleeing the situation didn't feel right. My breasts simply bounced with every step."
"Do you touch yourself, Bree?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"Do you touch yourself, Bree?"
"No."
"Do you want to touch yourself?"
"I don't even know how to answer that."
"Don't you wonder how a cock feels?"
"Absolutely not! I am not ever going to sit on a cock."
"They're so wonderful, Bree. I highly recommend them. Find one attached to a man you adore and ride it. Let your beasts bob up and down. Tilt your hips until you find the place that leads you straight to a quivering orgasm. Feel deeply what it is to be a woman."
"God. Gross! Stop."
"Please. Be honest. You don't fantasize even a bit about one parting your lips and slipping deep inside of you?"
"Okay. Maybe this isn't going to work out. I should probably go."
"Bree. You're not the only one on earth who has been changed by the virus, you know?"
"Yeah. Obviously. So?"
"What if I told you I used to be a man?"
"I'd say you're crazy."
"I'm not crazy. I was changed in the first wave."
"Oh. Oh, well. . . I'm sorry that happened."
"I'm not."
"Fuck, if you don't mind me saying, I was sore for days after mine grew, but it must have hurt to grow those breasts."
"The pain was absolutely maddening. I moaned out, half in pleasure from the pure insanity of what was happening to my body. I tried to push them back but eventually they burst from the bounds of my hands. And they didn't stop there. My chest was on fire. I rolled over and they swayed heavy under me. I fell to my back and they billowed on my chest."
"God. That sounds awful."
"At the time I was devastated by the change. It was quite literally the ending of my life. One life at least."
"But you have a nice medical practice. It's not like you lost anything."
"Quite the contrary. I was planning to do more physical work. I had a fiancé. We were going to get married. She wanted to have kids. When she saw me she couldn't cope with the changes. She said I was lying to her, that I was an imposter, that I had taken her future husband. In the face of the unknown, she threw up a wall. Much like you are doing now."
"If you weren't going to be a psychiatrist, what did you want to be?"
"I had just landed a job managing on an oil rig. It was something I very much wanted to do. Obviously some of the physical requirements meant that I would need to pass height and physical requirements, and I certainly tried, but —"
"I'm the same, actually. I was going to work on the oil rigs north of town. And now I can't do anything at all. That's largely why I have no motivation. I know people see the work as difficult, but it was my dream."
"The One Path. But this is a fallacy isn't it?"
"I don't understand."
"That your life was destined to follow one set path that you could predetermine."
"But I wanted it."
"I know. But that wanting is also a sunk cost. You can't get it back."
"I thought you were supposed to make me feel better."
"Seeing reality and bearing it long enough to move past it IS feeling better."
"So what did you do? You seem professional and put-together, it must have been easy for you to adjust."
"No, not at all. I broke down. I broke down for a long time. I was conflicted. I tried everything. Painting my nails. Trying to walk in heels. Buying bra's — and honestly I had no choice there, my tits were too big not to strap against my chest. My back was killing me. I tried everything. Nothing worked.
"I find that hard to believe."
"Believe it. Worse, I had a roommate at the time. He was my best friend and right after the change he started hitting on me."
"Gross."
"Yes. But I was too despondent to stop him. I desperately wanted to feel something."
"You mean?"
"I let him fuck me."
"Do you have to put it so graphically?"
"Does putting it less graphically change something?"
"No."
"Then I let him fuck me. He kept bugging me until finally I figured why not and laid down in my bed and said "go.""
"Oh fuck."
"Yeah."
"Was it good?"
"Ha! Absolutely not. I didn't feel anything. I had been rendered entirely defensive. Locked down. Unmoveable. I vowed to never feel another thing again."
"A good vow."
"I thought so. I felt like a freak. And I realized, my fiancé had never really been good to me. My life had been a lie even before the change."
"How so?"
"She was not a kind person. I realized I had spent my time with her trying to jump hoops. Hoops created by her. She would hate a friend and ask me to never see them again. I would plan something for myself, something I rarely did because I did want to focus my time on her, and she would do something to make it fall apart. When something good happened in my life, she would find little ways to disparage it — I see now she had her own wounds, wounds so deep she lashed out in ways that would keep me at her disposal, so she wouldn't have to be alone. She thought love was simply someone being around. She didn't even allow herself space to truly understand her own needs, and thus became a bully to everyone around her."
"But when you changed?"
"She left. She said I was ugly. A monster. And she said she never wanted to see me again."
"How did you cope?"
"Well, I started noticing that certain people made me happy. Certain situations. Certain hobbies. Some more than the others. I started just getting rid of the things that didn't serve me. One thing at a time. Slowly. And then, as things opened up, interesting things started to happen. I met someone. Someone willing to show me the full spectrum of my beauty, inside and out."
"How romantic."
"It wasn't at first. I was scared. I had these huge tits that I was so ashamed of. I didn't want anyone to see them. I would wear baggy sweaters and hide them away. It wasn't romantic to start. It was scary. I told her I was scared."
"Did she help?"
"She was very kind and helpful. She was patient. Honestly, by that time, if she hadn't of been patient and kind I would have left. I think in some way, my expectations for how I wanted to be treated invited better things. They invited her."
"We had an encounter at a friend's house who I was housesitting for. She stripped my bra off and said, "These should be seen. So many women would die for these."
"God. That makes me uncomfortable."
"It was. But she kept saying it. She didn't shirk from walking me right to my very edge and keeping me there. She took her time. This is one of the signs of love: the clock stops."
"And then what happened."
"And then she slipped my panties off and ran her tongue sweetly astride my clit."
"There you go again, being graphic."
"No. It's time to be very stark with you. She touched me. We spread our legs and pressed our pussies together. I was soaking wet. I could feel. She took me over the edge, over and over. I came in multiples. Eruptions that made me spread my thighs wide."
"I see."
"Do you want to be comfortable as a woman, Bree?"
"Sigh. Yes."
"Then we're going to have to do something different."
"What's that?"
"You're going to have to dive into the deep end. Do you understand?"
"Is this different from the program we are doing?"
"You'll have to sign a release."
"Well, how soon would I be comfortable with being a woman."
"So fast you can't imagine."
"There. All signed and ready."
"Now what?"
"It's simple. Take off your shirt."
"What? I thought our session was over."
"No. It's just started. Bree, please take your shirt off."
"But."
"I'm taking mine off too. I want you to pay attention very carefully, do you understand?"
I nodded and took off my shirt, trying not to look at Dr. Madison's lovely breasts. Suddenly, where there was no feeling, a sensation began to stir. A tingling of what was to come. Fluid began to build, seeping between my pussy lips. I scrunched up my face, trying to fight it back, to push down my desires. But, instead, I was growing wetter.
.
.
Thank you for reading!
Update: We will have a few series moving at once on the site. The next part of The Christmas Gift is wrapping up and will be posted at the top of next week. We will continue restoring caps and posting them, and there's another series in the works in the meantime as well. Thank you and enjoy!
Comments
Very desirous!
Desirous beginnings.
