The Therapist — Chapter 3: Jason
It was the morning before my afternoon session and I found myself lying face down on my massage table as Melissa lovingly worked on my back. We discussed an upcoming client as her hands tenderly kneaded the muscles at the base of my spine, unlocking all that tension. It was bliss. When I had first enlisted Melissa to become my personal assistant, I’d enrolled her in a range of different classes, from massage and cookery to bookkeeping and adult entertainment, and it really paid off—she’s now an excellent, accomplished assistant: bright, insightful, imaginative and passionate about both her work and pleasing me. She takes real pride in acquiring new skills and using them in my service. She always jokes that when she’s not serving me, she’s learning how to serve me better.
We were both naked. Me, because it was a massage—who wears clothes for a massage?—and her just because I enjoyed looking at her naked, and she was eager to please. She pressed her breasts against me, the nipples tickling my back. It felt like a summer breeze. Last year I’d idly mentioned that her tits could be bigger, and she’d instantly started saving up for a boob job. I liked her new, bigger tits and how obviously fake they looked. She seemed very pleased with them, but I was tempted to suggest they could be bigger. I was curious to see how far she’d go. As much as I love taking complete control of someone’s mind, it’s much sexier to give them a nudge in a certain direction and then see where they go with it. There’s no fun in robbing someone of their imagination.
As she massaged me I briefed her about the afternoon client; I suspected I’d need some very specific help from her and told her to buy some additional supplies. She almost squealed with joy. She does love a shopping spree.
People can be curious about how much I charge my clients. Like most therapists, I offer a sliding scale of fees for my services. For me, this ranges from free to very, very expensive. Indeed, one of my favourite games is seeing how much I can charge some of my wealthier clients. I recently persuaded a Premier League footballer that it was reasonable for him to pay me £100,000 an hour for me to help him deal with issues that were affecting his form (and accept that he wanted his wife to fuck his arse daily with a giant strap-on. That was my idea—I was bored) I’m glad to say that his performances on the field have since improved a great deal and I love the videos his wife now sends me.
I do a lot of work for free. My afternoon client had been referred by the local social services, and I wouldn’t be charging them a penny. What can I say? I believe that everyone should have access to high-quality therapy, irrespective of their background. I believe in giving something back.
Today’s client was Jason. He was 19, black, from a council estate in Streatham, and had drifted in and out of criminal activity throughout his teenage years: theft, robbery, dealing weed and recently a particularly nasty assault. He’d already been in and out of youth detention centres, and now he was a legal adult he was on a path that would only lead him to prison. Social services had sent him my way.
He was attending today’s session with his mother Denise. She was in her late 30s and, aside from his grandparents, she was his only family; Jason’s father had walked out when he was just a baby, and Denise had raised her son single-handedly. It’s easy to judge single parents and even easier to judge their kids, but I don’t know that I could have done a better job. Still, it was their lucky day; I was going to fix things for Jason and Denise in my own unique way.
Melissa buzzed them through.
Jason swaggered in, wearing baggy designer jeans, oversized hoodie and ugly, expensive trainers. He had a fine, neatly trimmed beard; he was every inch the wannabe gangster, already showing the world how tough he could be. Sadly, prisons up and down the country are filled with young men like Jason; men of all colours and creeds; broken boys who have learned to express themselves through violence.
He sat across the table from me, arms crossed, glowering with a malignant resentfulness. Denise looked exhausted; worn down by years of single-parenthood. Once, long ago, her life must have offered her so much more than this. She had wanted more for herself and more for her son.
“Which of you would like to speak first?” I asked.
Jason kissed his lips and folded his arms tighter. Ladies first, apparently.
Denise spoke up: “Honestly, I’ve done my best to be a good mum. I tried to make sure he never wanted for anything. I worked two, sometimes three jobs at a time. I went without so that he could thrive. I took him to church, I showed him love and I gave him structure, but somewhere along the line I lost him. He spends all day with his crew, smoking weed. His so-called friends showed him a life I can’t give him.”
Jason rolled his eyes. He’d heard it all before. He wanted to be anywhere but here, listening to his mum bleat on. But still, the social worker had told him that attending the meeting would help get the police off his back, so here he was.
“Does Jason have any male role models in his life?” I asked her.
Denise shook her head. “A couple of uncles—my brothers, but we don’t see each other often. It’s always just been me.”
I nodded: “It seems to me that Jason is a victim of toxic masculinity. I actually think you’ve done a wonderful job of raising him, Denise, and you should be very proud. But Jason has no positive masculine template. He has no idea, emotionally, how to be a man, so he has no way to positively express all his anger and rage. He can’t channel his feelings in healthy ways and they eventually spill over as violence. Jason, what do you think?”
“Fuck you, man” he spat under his breath.
I chuckled to myself. Young people can be so self-destructive.
I turned to Denise. “Sometimes, in cases like this, where we’re trying to explore someone’s subconscious, it can be useful to use props to unlock their inner feelings. We’ll come back to that later.”
Denise looked puzzled, but let me go on. At this point I reached into their minds and started making some adjustments—small steps at first. they would believe that everything happening was a normal part of the therapy session and would happily comply with my instructions. I tweaked Jason to make him less hostile and more compliant. He was willing to give the therapy a chance, and both would answer my questions openly and honestly.
I told them both to undress. They quietly, obediently removed their clothes, Denise folding hers neatly into a pile, Jason leaving them wherever they fell. Young men, eh? Soon they both stood there naked, Denise looking cautiously optimistic and Jason looking like he’d rather be on his phone. Neither seemed to think there was anything unusual about being naked in front of me.
Jason had a nice body. He was slim, toned, rather than muscular. His body was smooth, almost hairless and he had a tattoo of barbed wire across his chest. His cock was a decent size, hanging limp and heavy as he stood there. He had a nice body.
In contrast, Denise was wonderfully chunky. Big tits, huge nipples and a gorgeous round bum. Her tummy flopped gently over her waist. Every part of her seemed to jut out at an inviting angle. She made me think of an indulgent dessert; a guilty pleasure.
“Jason, tell me, are you sexually active?”
“Sure,” he said. “There’s a few girls I fuck regularly. A couple of them who are… kinda skanky but they let me fuck them however I want. You know, I’m 19. Not gonna get tied down to one girl.”
“Jason, tell me what you think of your mum’s body?” I asked.
“She’s my mum. I don’t really think anything about it. She’s a bit fat, I suppose?” he admitted.
Denise let out a wounded sigh. I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Come now, Jason,” I said. “You’re a man, aren’t you? A red-blooded straight young man? You must be able to appreciate your mother’s body.” I reached into his mind and gave it a shake, allowing him to forget for a moment that the woman in front of him was his mother.
“Hmmmm,” he purred. “She’s sexy, I guess. Older than I usually go for, but great titties, and I love those curves. That ass is definitely fuckable.” As he spoke, his cock stiffened and soon it was standing proudly to attention.
Faced by her son’s erect penis, Denise didn’t know what to think; she was somewhere between horrified and flattered.
“Thank you, Jason. Your honesty is appreciated,” I said. When dealing with new clients, positive feedback is so vital. I sent out more waves of relaxation; I could see them loosening up, feeling increasingly comfortable with the therapy process.
I called Melissa into the room. She carried an old-fashioned shaving kit, plus soap, a bowl of hot water and a plump, fluffy towel.
“Earlier I mentioned props,” I said. “Quite often a simple physical change can unlock emotional doors.”
I turned to Jason: “My assistant Melissa is going to shave you, getting rid of all your body hair from that goatee right down to your underarm hair and pubic hair. Don’t worry—she’s very skilled with a razor.”
Jason looked bemused, but didn’t object. As far as he was concerned, standing there naked as he had all his body hair removed was just part of the therapy process; strange but nothing to be alarmed about.
Melissa quickly got to work, soaping Jason up and patiently, tenderly shaving off every hair, paying special attention to his n0w-limp cock and balls. She pampered him, applying lotions and moisturisers, gently patting him dry and powdering him. By the time she was finished, there wasn’t a hair left on him. He looked younger, suddenly boyish and vulnerable.
Denise and I both looked at him, admiring his smoothness. Standing there naked and hairless, we could see that behind all the bravado and posturing he was just a vulnerable youngster on the cusp of manhood.
Jason reached down to pick up his jeans and hoodie, but I stopped him.
“Oh no, Jason. You won’t be needing those old things. We’ve bought you some new clothes—the props to help you unlock your inner feelings.”
Melissa handed his new clothes: frilly pink knickers, a pink bra, a cute little crop top, silk stockings and a pair of pink heels. I’ll be honest, when I asked Melissa to buy him some feminine clothes, I hadn’t expected her to go quite so… pink. But she used her initiative, and I can only admire that. She knows her stuff.
“Ummm… these are girl’s clothes,” Jason said, uncertain.
“Yes, Jason. We’re trying to unlock a different side to you—seeing if we can bypass all the anger and toxic masculinity that’s holding you back.” I nudged him to accept my suggestions.
He nervously put on the knickers. They suited him. He struggled with the bra, and I asked Denise to help dress him. She was more than happy to lend a hand—it had been years since her son had let her help with anything. And besides, what was more natural than a mother dressing her son?
In a couple of minutes he was fully dressed, and I must say he looked as sweet as a peach. If it wasn’t for the short hair and the lack of make-up, he’d be an incredibly cute girl; his skin was flawless, his lips seemed to naturally fall into a feminine pout, and pink really suited him. He could be a model.
“How do you feel now, Jason?”
“Strange. It feels weird. I’m not a girl,” he shivered.
I reached into his mind and flipped some switches. With every second that passed, he’d feel more and more comfortable dressed as a cute bubblegum girl. He’d start to feel more visibly emotional; able to access all the feelings he’d buried underneath his tough, masculine exterior.
“What about now, Jason?”
“It feels… nicer. Pinker. As though all the weight and pressure of being a man has been gone.” he smiled. Then he paused and blurted out: “But I’m still me. Still a guy. I’m not a faggot or anything.”
“Of course,” I reassured him, taking note of his homophobia. “Now, I’d like you to look at your mother’s body again. Now what do you feel?”
He turned to his mum and admired her naked body. A frown appeared on his face. He glanced down at his cock, now nestling snugly in his pink knickers. His penis remained limp.
“That’s weird,” he said. “I don’t feel anything. I know she’s naked and she’s got those huge sexy tits and great arse, but I don’t feel at all hard.”
“That is interesting,” I nodded. “Denise, why not show off your body a little more. Give us a performance. Really go for it. See if you can turn him on.”
Eager to do her bit to help, Denise threw a series of sexy poses, shaking her bum and thrusting her boobs towards us. She knew what she was doing. I certainly enjoyed the show, even if it did nothing for Jason.
“No… it’s not working,” said Jason, growing disconcerted.
“That’s ok. This is a safe space and it’s ok to admit your feelings. Maybe you just don’t like women?” I suggested. Then I smiled—“Why don’t both of you take a seat and we’ll continue with the therapy?”
They sat down across from my desk, Jason looking innocently cute in his pink outfit and Denise still completely naked. I like how incongruous the scene was, and how normal they seemed to think it was. I took some photos.
“Jason, I think I understand the root of your problems. You’ve grown up without any male role models. You don’t have a healthy way of being a man. But I have good news! There was a wonderful role model in front of you the whole time.”
They both looked puzzled. I laughed warmly.
“Denise, I’m talking about you! You’re a fantastic role model for Jason. Hard-working, loving, understanding. You’ve been a wonderful mother.” She blushed, welling up with maternal pride.
At this point I reached into their minds and took them deeper; this is required for long-term reprogramming. They lay there in their seats, their bodies slack, their breathing deep and slow. They looked so peaceful.
“Jason, the reason you’ve been so troubled is because deep down you don’t want to be a man. You want to be pink and fluffy and feminine. You love trying on different outfits, showing off your body and flirting with guys.”
“The reason you didn’t get hard when looking at your mum’s gorgeous body is because you no longer fancy women. Sexually, they do nothing for you. In fact, when you look at your mum’s body, your overwhelming feeling is one of jealousy… you want those gorgeous huge tits and round bum. Whenever you look at a girl, it won’t be with lust, but with curiosity; you’re checking out their body, comparing it to your own, learning from their behaviour—what clothes are they wearing, how are they getting guys’ attention?”
“Sexually, you now adore men. Men of all ages, colours, shapes and sizes; as long as they’re strong and masculine, you want them to fuck you. You love cock. You love making men cum. You love that feeling of walking into a room and knowing that every man wants you. But most of all you love finding strong men who will look after you and treat you well. When you find a guy like that, you fall head over heels for them, and know you’ll do anything to please them.”
“You respect and admire your mum so much. She’s more than your mum, she’s your bestie, and you love sharing your secrets with her. She’s your role model, so you always follow her example and do what she tells you. She knows best.”
I turned to Denise.
“Denise, I have a question for you now. An important one.”
She smiled and her eyelids flickered. She was aware of my words.
“I trust your judgement as a mother. You have a choice. If you want, I can reverse everything I’ve done and Jason will go back to how he was before; a surly, angry young criminal. Or I can continue down the path we’ve started today. Jason will be closer to you. He will respect and obey you. He will behave himself and keep out of trouble. But he will also be a submissive sissy addicted to cock. If you ever wanted grandchildren, well… that’s not going to happen. Sexually, he won’t be going anywhere near a woman. So, what’s it going to be?”
She stirred, stretched and looked me hard in the eyes. “Please,” she begged. “Make him a good girl.”
That was all I needed to hear. I sent her back into a deep trance.
“Denise, you are so thrilled that Jason now knows that he’s a girl. You feel so relieved that you finally know why he’s been so angry and destructive. You welcome the opportunity to repair your relationship and get closer than ever. You are so keen to show him how to be a real woman. Plus it really turns you on seeing him dressed as a girl, and you love showing him how to please a man. He’s your partner in crime and you’re so proud to be his guide into the world of womanhood.”
With that I woke them both up and let the programming sink in. They both stirred and shook off their sleepiness. Instinctively, Jason reached over to Denise—she was still naked—and gave her a big hug. She sobbed into his shoulder. She’d missed her boy.
“Jason, how do you feel now?” I asked.
He looked at me as though he was seeing me for the first time. Before I’d been some boring therapist; now he saw me as a man. And an attractive, powerful masculine man.
“Oh, Doctor. I feel gorgeous! Divine!” he giggled. Then he frowned. “I’d rather you didn’t call me Jason. Call me… Candy.”
Candy! I loved it. What a perfect name for a sweet young thing.
“Lovely to meet you, Candy,” I said. “Now, Denise… before you put your clothes on, why don’t you come over here and show Candy how to suck a cock.”
Denise was momentarily surprised but then grinned and made her way over to me. I was still sitting back in my chair as she approached. She turned to Candy—“Well, come on! Don’t be shy, girl! Get up close so you can see what I’m doing.”
Candy crawled over to join us, wiggling her bum as he approached. It was more clumsy than sexy, but he’d learn. Soon both of them were sitting at my feet. Denise unzipped me and pulled out my cock. It was already hard.
“Oh, it’s beautiful, mum. I want to suck it soooo much!” moaned Candy, his eyes widening.
“Wait your turn! Be patient if you want to learn anything. You’ve never sucked a cock—I’ve sucked hundreds. Let your mum show you how it’s done.”
Denise wrapped her ample tits around my cock and teased the tip with her tongue, working the shaft up and down between her breasts. It felt wonderful. Candy looked on enviously—maybe one day he’d have boobs like that.
Then Denise expertly slipped my cock between her lips and took me deep into her mouth, sucking and slurping as though her life depended on it. With her free hand she stroked and caressed my balls.
“Oh yes, Denise. That’s wonderful. Candy, your mother really is a world-class cocksucker. She’s got so much to teach you.”
She sucked long and slow, teasing every inch of my cock. When I was ready to cum, I pulled out and shot my load all over Denise’s huge caramel tits. Denise then offered her boobs to Candy, who started to hungrily lick my cum off his mother’s tits, before ending up suckling tenderly on her nipples, just as he’d done nearly 20 years ago as a tiny child. They held each other and Candy started to quietly cry. It was the release of years and years of masculinity and self-loathing. It’s so pleasing to know my therapy can lead to such breakthroughs!
The hour was nearly up, but I had one more gift for them.
“I know the two of you don’t have a lot of money. I’d hate to see Candy’s new life derailed by something so mundane as that. So when you finish this session, Melissa will be waiting. You’ll be heading into town with her to get Candy a whole new wardrobe of clothes, as well make-up and wigs—until he grows his hair out. I think £20,000 should cover it. She’ll also book you in for a series of electrolysis sessions to permanently get rid of all that nasty body hair.”
Candy practically shrieked with delight.
I scribbled out a note on my desk and handed it to Denise as she got herself dressed.
“That’s a prescription for Candy’s hormones. We’ll soon get him on the road to being as curvy as you.” I winked at Candy and he giggled.
“Thank you, Dr Rose,” they chimed in unison. Another good day in the office.
As they left I messaged Melissa to book them in for a follow-up session in three months time. I couldn’t wait to see how Candy would progress.