Therapy
Oct 2, 2010, 2:00pm, patient: Brian T.
I just finished my appointment with a newer client - Brian T. 26 years old, very attractive, young professional. Brian came to see me with his wife for his first session. Suzy, his wife, arranged the initial intake session with my assistant and, from the get-go, expressed her concern that Brian was “ruining their marriage.” When they met me a week ago, they both came in looking like your cookie-cutter white yuppies. Matching North Face fleeces and all. As I guessed, Suzy was eager to take control of the appointment and sell me on all the reasons her husband was a horrible, horrible man.
Why not give her what she wants? I thought with a slight grin. Wearing my Zara slim fit suit and tie (love disposable clothing) and relaxed in my leather chair, she was in my territory. I’ll let her think she can take control of the situation, let her run with it, and show herself right out the door. After all, it would be one of the few times she would be let in my office anyway.
After the usual pretext of what therapy is, how much it costs, and of confidentiality, I asked, “why have you come to see me?” Suzy seized the moment like a ravished tiger let out of its cage right into a butcher’s shop. Suzy was bitter, angry, and - from the voracity of her remarks - in it for blood. You would have thought Brian was far less her husband and much more a vindictive devil who fed off of destroying Suzy. In the flurry, I caught a few glances at a really good-looking Brian, who - despite being what must have been 5′11″, 175lbs of muscle - couldn’t look more like a 8 year-old schoolboy (NOTE: immediately I realized...this was going to be Brian’s therapy. Schoolboy.). Brian hadn’t moved since he entered the room and his eyes, locked on the floor in front of him, were beginning to bore holes into my carpet. Rather than defend himself, Brian endured the onslaught of Hurricane Suzy blow after blow. And Suzy wasn’t giving up.
The problem: after 10 minutes, Suzy-the-natural-disaster showed no signs of letting up. Nor had she actually said what he had done wrong. It was time to begin redirecting the storm away from my office.
“Suzy, let me stop you for just a moment there. Wow. You have endured what sounds to be a very, very painful part of your life.”
“You bet I have. I ---”
I quickly interrupted. “Yes, you. Exactly. It’s clear to me that you have been very strong through all of this. Brian, do you have anything to say?” I knew that, with the combination of the shock from the last 10 minutes and out of sheer terror of his wife, Brian wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence.
“I... um, I... well, uh, Doctor...I don’t...”
“Hmm. Yes. Suzy. Brian. I see exactly what’s going on here - I see it quite a bit in my line of work. We simply cannot get to the bottom of this until both parties are mature and ready enough to discuss this as adults. Suzy, I really appreciate you bringing Brian here. I can begin to see how all of this has happened. You have been so articulate thus far and really seem to have a sense of what is going on.”
Shocked, Suzy said, “Thank you, doctor. What do you think is wrong with Bri ---”
I’m taking back the reigns. She doesn’t even know how to fight it. “Suzy, where are you staying right now?”
“Um...we..we both are living at our house, right now. Why?”
“Suzy, we simply cannot continue until both parties are ready. This is going to take a lot of work from Brian - and I don’t want him negatively affecting your own life. You need a breath of fresh air and some real support around you for a little while. I would like to recommend that, Brian, you and I see each other 3 times a week for the next 3 weeks. Suzy, for the next 3 weeks, do you have family or friends that you could stay with? Someone who could take really good care of you?”
“I mean, I guess I could stay with my parents. Doctor, is it really that serious?”
“I’m a afraid it is, Suzy. Of course, I need Brian to be on board too. Brian, I really need to know - do you want this relationship to work?”
Finally looking up, Brian stuttered, “I...I...3 weeks?”
“Brian, I need you to realize that this is serious. But together we might be able to really help this situation. Ok?”
Quickly looking at Suzy, then at me, then back down at the ground, Brian defeatedly mumbled“...ok. Yes. Ok.”
“Good. Suzy, would you call my assistant to make an appointment for 3 weeks from now? I’d like to see you alone and then see you both together at that point.”
“Certainly doctor.”
“Great. Thank you. Suzy, I think you and I are done for the time being. Brian, I would like you to stay behind for a bit so you and I can chat. Did you both drive together?”
Suzy responded, “No...well, yes. But it doesn’t matter. I can drive back to my office and Brian can take a cab. We both work downtown.”
“Excellent. Suzy, thank you. It was great to meet you. I look forward to seeing you in 3 weeks.”
As the door shut, I breathed deeply. Thank fucksake that I won’t be dealing with her. Now onto with Brian. We had about 20 minutes left and I needed to gain his trust quickly. I made sure to pause long enough so he could hear Suzy was, in fact, gone. With a gentle tone, I offered Brian some water (he politely refused), settled back into my chair, and began telling Brian that I wanted to hear his side and that this was going to be a very safe, comfortable space. I also assured him that nothing we talked about would be told to Suzy unless he wanted it. That seemed to calm the boy. His body slowly began to open up and he started to talk in more complete sentence. In the 20 minutes left, Brian told me a little bit about his life and about him and Suzy. Brian grew up with 3 other siblings, all older brothers, in a fairly typical, midwest white family. Not the greatest student, he was decent at football and got into the state university where he studied business. His father was a fairly domineering man and didn’t see any reason to waste time on anything than a major in business or in medicine - which the latter his oldest brother (now an M.D.) excelled at. The other two brothers were already junior execs - one in Chicago and another in New York. It was clear that the family regarded age with intelligence - the oldest one the smartest...and the youngest one...well, let’s just say they seemed glad Brian graduated. Not that this seemed actually to be the case. As Brian talked, I was surprised at how well-spoken the boy was. Brian, however, took his family perception to heart.
In junior year, Brian met Suzy at one of his fraternity’s keg parties. Without much detail, it was unclear how they became an item - but it happened very quickly. After graduating from the same college, Suzy and Brian immediately married (seriously? Why people do this is beyond me - it’s a lightening sprint to automatic misery). Under pressure from Suzy and her parents, Brian got a decently-paying, cubical-farm job to pay for their insanely expensive apartment in Lincoln Park (or so I assume, based on the neighborhood).
At this point, I stopped him. I didn’t want to get to any of the troubles yet. No, this was about trust. We scheduled our next session for Oct 4th and I sent him on his way.
Oct 2, 3:30pm, Eric
I began seeing Eric 2 years ago for anger management problems and some violent tendencies. At the time, he was 19 and had just started the second semester of college. 5′8″, 165lbs, strikingly-hot blonde, almost-muscle boy was a gay man’s wet dream. And, of course, Eric had a serious problem with homophobia. After being suspended for punching a boy in the face during a party after the boy allegedly “went queer” and grabbed Eric’s ass (the report stated that the boy had accidentally touched Eric as Eric shoved his way through the crowd), it was clear that Eric needed a little attitude adjustment. Thankfully, Eric ended up being an excellent hypnotic subject. Within weeks, an adviser at the college called with glowing remarks of how much better Eric was getting along with people, about his positive attitude change, and how he was quickly becoming well-liked by faculty and students alike.
Eric was such a great hypnotic subject that it made my job a breeze. After the first session with Eric, it was clear that he got off on the adrenaline rush of a power-control situation. The more aggressive the better. There were two ways of dealing with that.
First: Eric needed to channel his frustrations into something productive. He began waking up with a compulsion to workout every day, no matter how sore he was from the day before. Or how much he had partied the night before. At 6:30am, Eric was in the gym pushing his body to the max...quickly becoming the muscle stud he should have been. Now, when walking through a crowd, it was near impossible for Eric’s tight, bubble butt not to be the center of attention.
Second: What was sadistic becomes masochistic. Eric liked to take out any bruise to his “manliness” physically on some unwitting victim. Gay men were the worst of all to Eric. With a few sessions, Eric realized that not only did he not hate gay men, he was one of them. But not just any gay guy. Eric was special. He beat others up because, in reality, he craved a dominant man to control him. Where the former straight jock couldn’t “get enough pussy,” now had another appetite.
“Hi Doc.” Eric sat down on the couch, wearing a tight-fitting abercrombie shirt and jeans.
“Hi Eric. How are you today?”
“Great.”
“That’s good to hear. So let’s talk about your week.”
Eric responded, “School is good. Family is good. Workout excellent.”
“Good to hear that, Eric. And sex life?”
“Well, doc, I’m still having those weird moments. Like, I’m still confused - like I have been for the past few weeks. I wake up every morning knowing I am straight, but when I get to the gym and see all these hot, dominant men, I can’t help but think of them using me. And whenever they cruise me, I can’t help myself. I want them to use me so badly. And they do. But this morning, when I woke up, I still wanted girls, but I also couldn’t get out of my head the thought that I am a huge pussyboy.”
“What does that mean to you, Eric?”
“Well...I’m...I’m clearly beginning to think I’m bi. I mean, I’m having random sex with all of these hot men..and I haven’t had sex with a girl in...huh...I guess it’s been a few weeks. But anyway, I love when they completely dom me. When they use me, fucking rough and all. And I want even more. I want them to make me their pussyboy and to wear slutty underwear and stuff like that. Is that weird, doc?”
“Not at all, Eric. Do you think it is?”
“Well, I would have never done it before. Like, years ago. Before, I would have been disgusted by a guy wearing anything but boxers and called him a ‘fag’. Today, I’m wearing a pink thong because one of my roommates who’s been using me forced me to.”
“Have your other roommates found out?”
“No, and they’ve stopped asking questions of what’s going on with me. I guess they just realize I’ve changed.”
I paused. Here in front of me was a boy who could beat the shit out of me. And a few weeks ago, he certainly would have. Now, Eric is the play thing of the workout room and the personal slut of his roommate, Marc. And he’s loving it. I considered what concerns there might be regarding Marc, but quickly dismissed them. So what if a friend was using him? Eric was - despite wanting cock - triggered to always engage in safe sex. And what was Marc going to say? For him, this probably was a dream come true.
“Eric, have you changed?”
“Oh absolutely, doc. For the best. I’m much more calm now and really think I’m discovering myself.”
“Excellent. Well, Eric I need you to listen close - ok BOYTOY?” I watched as his eyes snapped shut and his body became as limp as a ragdoll. Damn, I always think to myself, he goes deep. “Good boy. In a moment, you will wake back up but realize that your name is no longer Eric but HOUSEBOY. And as HOUSEBOY, you will do your weekly chores around my house and immensely enjoy doing them knowing that it makes me happy. As a HOUSEBOY, you live to serve and you are happiest cleaning my house. But now, HOUSEBOY, because you have done such a great job and you love being a HOUSEBOY, we are going to add things for you to do and you’ll love doing every one of them. On your way out, you will pick up an envelope on the front desk labeled ‘alternative lessons.’ Inside, you will find an address, cash and a key. You will also pick up the small black suitcase hidden underneath the table. HOUSEBOY, listen carefully. You will take a cab to the address, tell the cabbie to wait, go up to the third floor, and pick up two trash bags, drop off the suitcase outside the front door, and return to the cab. Then head to my place and drop the trash bags in the storage room before finishing your chores. Do you understand me?”
Sleepily, Eric responded. “Sir, yes Sir. HOUSEBOY will pick up envelope and suitcase and do as Sir instructed. Will drop off suitcase at destination. Will pick up bags. Will drop off at Sir’s residence. Will then proceed to change into HOUSEBOY slutshorts and plug, clean house and make dinner.”
“Good boy. Oh, and HOUSEBOY, I want dinner ready at 6:30 for 2 people. Derek may arrive early.”
Oct 2, 11pm, personal record
Derek is fast asleep beside me. I can hear his steady, rhythmic breathing and I feel that mixed up, energy pull of feelings towards him that I have inside of me. I care for people sleeping with me as if some invisible string has been created between us. I realize this can be a problem. But for right now, I don’t care. I know I used to be over-caring. It got me in a lot of trouble in graduate school. An Axis-II PD (personality disordered) person roped me in with their sickness and burned me hard. I should have known better. I still have some of the scars. Especially when I can’t go to sleep. But this time is not one of those times. I’m awake because sex heightens my adrenaline. It makes me want more. And I look over and know I’ve got a great guy sleeping right next to me. So I let that invisible string linger.
Looking back over today’s notes, I realize that I may have seemed like a narcissistic asshole for how I treat clients - particularly if you are reading this with no knowledge of myself. Perhaps there is some truth to that. I do enjoy using people who have used and abused others, particularly Eric. But, as you will see, even being a houseboy has huge benefits for Eric in the near future. And as for Brian? It’s already more than clear that he has let his wife control him, his father control him, his brothers control him...far too much. It’s still not clear to me what he did wrong...but whatever it is, I am prepared for it to be laughable. Even if he slept with the next-door neighbor, it didn’t deserve the tongue-lashing he received today. And I’m not convinced that Brian is capable of doing such a mischievous act...yet.
For things that are a bit more selfish, then there’s Derek. Derek is young. 21. But he came up to me at a bar in Boystown and it was clear he knew exactly what he wanted. So, I guess, not that young. Derek had found my profile on Recon. He saw my work with other boys. And Derek wanted to play. Incredibly sweet, incredibly preppy, Derek shocked me with how dirty he wanted to be. With the handle “rbbrslutb00tboy”, it wasn’t hard to guess what Derek was into. The only problem was that this 5′7, 130lb twink blonde with a boyish grin looked more boy-next-door than boy-slut. Even his pseudo-Bieber cut was messing up the image.
Derek came over early and was greeted by Eric. Initially shocked at what he saw, Derek somewhat warmed up to the whole experience by the time I got home and we sat for dinner. Derek had even taken a cue to leave his shoes at the door...interesting.
“So, Derek, are you sure you want to try this?”
“Hells yah. I mean, I don’t want to be your houseboy...but that was really hot.”
“Derek. I’m serious. You’re not one of my patients. This will be completely for pleasure. And people will notice differences in you.”
“Ethan, I really want to try this. I’ve, I’ve been to afraid to really do something and I want to let it all go and just really get into it. I want you to control me. Hypnotize me into living my fantasy. And if it really works, awesome. Besides, I’m at college - nobody is really going to care. I have my own apartment, I don’t have a job, I won’t see my parents until Christmas...let’s try it, ok?”
I hesitated. The boy had clearly thought this out. And, by my 3rd glass of wine, I was feeling incredibly horny. He was too fucking cute for his own good. I acquiesced.
“Derek, I need you to relax and just focus on my voice for a few minutes. Just let everything else go and focus on my voice-”
“Yes, Master” he stiffled a giggle. I ignored the brat and continued -
“The interesting thing is that already your feet have become instantly very, very heavy. You’ll notice that, since the time you sat down, they have become heavier and heavier. And the more you haven’t moved them, the more they have locked down to the ground. Cemented there. Sending waves of heaviness up your legs into your calves. In fact, at this moment - they are so heavy if you attempted to move them, you would now find it impossible -”
“Uh huh. Uh..shit! You’re serious...I can’t...this is incredible.”
“That’s right Derek, and now that feeling is spreading into your hips and into your chest. Just allowing the relaxation to flow all the way into your mind - going deeper and deeper-”
“every word, every breath, going into a heavy trance - obeying every word....focusing on my words....letting your feet, so heavy, drag your entire body into a heavy, deep state...and with every number now...even deeper...4...3...2....1”
After a simple elevator induction and some reinforcements, Derek was ready. Completely slumped over in his chair, he looked even more angelic.
“Derek, in a moment, you will realize that it’s time to do something that you will absolutely find the most wonderful feelings doing. It’s like you’ve been waiting to do it all day long - you’ve been obsessed with it - and now the time is right and you will automatically do it, knowing that it is normal and the right thing to do. When I say the phrase ‘CLEANUP’, you will instantly realize that you will need - more than anything else you’ve ever needed to do - to enter my bathroom and give yourself a haircut. But not just any haircut. When I say the phrase, “CLEANUP”, you will realize someone screwed with your hair. They let it grow out and made it blonde. You hate it blonde. You’ve always hated it blonde. You have to return it to black. At the sink, you will follow directions on the box of dye to return your hair to it’s black color. Once you have completed this, you will use the trimmers to regain your mohawk. You’ve always had a mohawk. Deep down you realize that this is true. A tall, black mohawk. Nod if you understand. Good, Derek. Good...
“In a moment, I will say the phrase...you will return your hair to a nice black mohawk...”
“And in a moment, I will awaken you. You will not realize that any time has passed...and you will forget about being under...we will just have continued talking about hypnosis...”
“Forgetting and remembering...coming back to an awaked state...on the count of 5, feeling good, feeling refreshed, feeling alive....”
“5
4
3...coming back now...
2...
1...wide awake”
“So, you really think you can be hypnotized Derek?”
“Ethan, I don’t really know. Maybe. But I want to try. Can we just attempt it?”
“Sure. But before we do, Derek, do you want to go to the bathroom and CLEANUP?”
Instantly, a puzzled look came on Derek’s face. “What did you say?”
“Did you want to use the bathroom and CLEANUP? CLEANUP, Derek?”
Derek jumped out of his chair and walked quickly to the bathroom. “What....ETHAN! DUDE, WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR?” I could control myself. It was hot watching the little twink grab his hair and act as if he’d never seen it long and blonde before. He was genuinely shocked...and the feeling of disgust was coming to his face. I was going to love this.
“Shit...I gotta change it back. ETHAN! How did you do this?? You know I hate blonde hair...”
“I know, I know. But, listen Derek. There’s some black dye right there at the sink. And some trimmers, just in case you wanted to CLEANUP.”
45 minutes later, Derek was dyed and shaved. The Bieber-bob was replaced by a 4-inch mohawk, pure black. Derek hated the blonde so much that he dyed his eyebrows to match. And I must say, he looked incredibly hot. It was the first phase...but I had to fuck him, right there. The rest could wait. My Rubber Slut Boot Boy could wait. He needed to be bred now.