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Group Therapy By: philosopher1112 Revised and Updated (Thank you all for your comments. I've been puttering away at this story for such a long time, and now I have a fairly large update. I hope it is at least adequate.) Chapter 1, in which I am introduced to the other members of the group. Slipping into the comfortably dim room, I took a seat and tried to put aside my long-standing suspicion that psychiatrists were the modern equivalent of witch doctors. Even if the name of my diagnosis, "dissociative identity disorder" reminded me of old tribal fears about displacing the soul. Even if the method of curing such a curse involved mind-altering medication was not so different from using mescaline to commune with the spirits, or whatever the hell people did before psychiatry was invented. Scientific language led people to think there was a distinction, but that was nothing more than a convenient illusion. Why had I come here, anyway? It was supposed to be group therapy; the psychiatrist was merely a facilitator, of that I had been assured. Dr. Heather Kay, who had written her doctoral dissertation on gender identity disorder, as I'd been sure to check before stepping into the office, was the most accomplished psychiatrist the fine university I attended had to offer. She and her assistant, a very pretty girl, not much older than myself, were already waiting for me in the room. Dr. Kay, saying something about confidentiality, briefly glanced at me when I entered before the assistant motioned me to take a seat nearby her own. This gave me the opportunity to study Celia, as I soon learned, in more detail. Listening dutifully to Dr. Kay's speech, Celia was extremely attractive, even if her skin was a few shades darker than what I normally fancied. She overdid the makeup, of course, but practically everyone did, even some of the men. But I liked that she had very large breasts that, under her jacket, were displayed very conspicuously. Whenever Dr. Kay emphasized a point (she had moved from confidentiality to "ground rules"), Celia would lean forward and the jacket would fall away. I loved that. I waited for it. So what if I missed Dr. Kay's important points; I didn't want to be in group therapy, anyway. Why was I here? Mostly to keep my scholarship. "Brilliant graduate student assaults colleague" was how the campus paper put it. Sure, they called me brilliant, but I fucked the editor and she was the one responsible for the headline. Maybe she recognized my name and wanted to add a positive spin to otherwise disastrous news. Oh yeah, I assaulted Edward, a less-than-brilliant student in the department. Clobbered him, in fact, while he was working in the computer lab. Except I couldn't remember doing it - really, genuinely couldn't remember, but Ed claimed it was me and they found my fingerprints on the metal trashcan I had used to smash him, and that was enough. My only alibi was a bottle of red wine, safely consumed in the comfort of my apartment. I hardly paid attention to three of Dr. Kay's other clients who had arrived before me. As we went around the room telling our "stories", I discovered that two of them, at least, actually wanted to be involved in group therapy. Sam, short with perpetual five o'clock shadow, proudly informed us that he'd been through this kind of therapy twice before. Ok, I can acknowledge that none of us were quite right in the head, but there's such a thing as being too eager for help. Sam was too eager. Probably the doctor had him on five different medications, in addition to group and personal counseling, and he was still completely fucked up. Still, he wanted more help. Still, he hadn't been able to overcome his crises, even with all that assistance. Couldn't even shave properly. In his position, I would have been ashamed. Hell, I was ashamed already, both on his behalf and for myself. Then there was Lisa. What the hell was her problem? Her life sounded pretty damn good to me. Sure, her boyfriend had dropped her recently, but girls never had problems finding company. Especially not esteemedly fuckable ones like Lisa. She was pale: green eyes, red hair, freckles. Girls like that weren't exceedingly rare on the campus, but Lisa, as I could tell even when she was sitting, had one fuckable body. Hardly any of them had legs that stretched forever beyond the hem of their skirts, and of those who did, few also had the hips and ass that could make you think of taking a girl from behind, even if that wasn't usually your thing. Lisa was fuckable. And she shouldn't have been complaining, especially given that this was her second bout of group therapy. Maybe she was an emotional cripple. That could be why she had a hard time keeping a boyfriend. Once they had their stories out of the way, we all turned to the third member of the group, some freaky chick dressed all in black. A goth? Here? It had always been my understanding that Goths take pride in being depressed all the time. This was Nat, the other person in the small group who had never been involved in group therapy before and seemed reluctant as hell to be involved now. Well, well. She'd broken someone's nose - and with her fist, too. She hardly needed to deny it because the guy was refusing to press charges. Nat told us matter-of-factly that the relevant authorities had concluded that the outburst of violence was the result of the recent death of her mother. Given that factor and the unwillingness of the victim to testify on his own behalf, the university had ordered her into group therapy to "work out her issues." (I'd never fuck a goth. They're always doing shit like getting drunk and depressed and violent. What's worse, the violence comes in outbursts that it can be difficult to prepare for. That's probably what happened to the guy whose nose she broke: maybe they were even making out to the sound of Marilyn Manson and the scent of patchouli, ?cause he was probably a goth, too; then Nat went crazy and bloodied up his nose. Nice going, Nat.) Dr. Kay had only smiled sympathetically while Sam and Lisa told their stories. She sniffed a bit - maybe I was the only one who noticed - when Nat told hers. She grimaced very visibly when I told mine, especially when I went over my thoughts about psychiatrists. But I like to tell the truth, even when it is unpleasant. "I don't think I need help as much as some people," I explained, "though I'm also interested in getting some honest opinion, which, because people are so overly sensitive, can be difficult to find." By the time I finished my tirade, Dr. Kay's smile was back even if Sam and Lisa still looked astonished and embarrassed. Maybe now they were reconsidering their decision to enroll in group therapy again. Nat, looking bored, just stared at the floor. Well. From her I expected at least a knowing grin, but then I began to wonder if she was the type to smile at all. "Nathan," Kay began, turning her head to take in the rest of the room. "You committed an act of violence, but now you can't remember it. You've grown very good at hiding parts of yourself. One important function of group is to bring what is hidden out into the open." "Maybe some things should stay hidden, doc. Not in this case, necessarily, but you never know..." She didn't even appear to hear me. Quickly, Celia spoke up and asked Sam what he had discovered about himself last time he was in therapy. Whatever it was, I didn't give a damn. Sam needed to give himself a goddamn shave, that's what he had to do. Then maybe he wouldn't be alone all the time, because people wouldn't mistake him for a homeless person. Anyway, I was more interested in Celia, since she had leaned forward greatly while asking the question, and while Sam yammered out his response I had a perfect view of the top of her milk-and-coffee colored tits. It was funny the way I found Celia staring right at me. Staring at me ogling her tits, I mean. I didn't even notice my erection until her dark eyes were fixed on mine, and then I began to feel a little woozy so all I could feel was my dick and the sharpness of her gaze. Like she was not content just to catch me drooling over her cleavage, but wanted to skewer me as well, from her eyes to mine, down to my crotch. It wasn't funny that she caught me, but it was funny that I was having such an extreme reaction to getting caught. Even though she said not a word, but simply glared at me as Dr. Kay took over the conversation. When Celia finally released me I found myself gasping for air. "Although I agree with the standard account of the purpose of group therapy, my method is somewhat different, as two of you already know. It goes without saying that my approach is unorthodox." Kay nodded at Celia, who reached under her seat (so disconcerted was I from my last attempt that I didn't even try to ogle) and came up with a small leather box, unusual only in the large silver clasp that kept the lid on. She handed it to the doctor, who released the clasp and continued: "We want you to make discoveries about yourself. But talking isn't enough. All of you, I think, like to talk, especially about yourselves." I'm sure she was thinking of me. "But that talk has so far only deepened your level of self-deception. We need to go beyond that." Undoing the latch, she turned the box so that it opened towards us. The inside of it looked like velvet, and in the smaller of the two compartments I saw what looked like a small canister. In the other was a silver chain with a chunk of silver hanging from the end. When I got a better look, I noticed the silver on the end was carved into a five sided three dimensional shape, and polished so that it gleamed more brightly than the chain to which it was attached. The doctor pulled it out of the box and held it with her arm outstretched. "Two of you already know what this is. Nathan, what do you think it is?" "Some crazy piece of jewelry. What are you going to do, hypnotize us with it?" "Something like that, yes," she explained, handing the box back to Celia. "I call it group hypnosis." "Sounds stupid," Nat murmured, not entirely convinced of her words. "Do you really think so?" Kay continued. "Shall I demonstrate?" "Would you demonstrate on me, please?" Sam demanded, sounding very pathetic. "We need to prove the method to the two newcomers," Celia put in. "If used on you, they might think you were playing along, either as a trick or just out of eagerness." "Try it on me," Nat volunteered, still not entirely sure of herself. The doctor smiled. "Good idea." She and her assistant pulled their chairs up so they were positioned on either side of the loveseat where Nat was sitting. The rest of us, I as enthusiastic as the rest, stayed in our overstuffed chairs just behind them. Kay held the chain aloft so that even in the dim light the silver-stone at the end sparkled. "Just watch the stone, Natalie," Celia said, her voice lower and softer than it had been previously. "Watch it while I count to ten." Dr. Kay did not move the stone. She just held it there while her assistant counted to ten, at first telling Nat to relax after each number, until she got to six. Then she hovered on the sixth number, waiting confidently for Nat's eyes to begin to slip closed. "Just let yourself drift away," she said. "Let yourself slide into a dark tunnel, down, down, and down..." Finally, Nat's eyes closed completely. Her head slumped forward and I noticed her breathing became very shallow. "Seven. Just relax, Nat. Relax." Suddenly I realized my own eyes were getting heavy. Nat no longer seemed as interesting as the stone and Celia's voice sounded very far away. I swear, I didn't fall asleep. It just no longer seemed important to pay attention to the demonstration. My eyes were still open when she reached ten but I may have been massaging an erection through my jeans. It's possible. But so what if I was? "Can you hear me, Nat?" Dr. Kay asked. "Yes." "Are you relaxed?" "Yes." "Would you like to play a game?" A pause. "What kind of game?" "You're going to act like a baby. Wouldn't you like to be a baby for a while?" "Ok." "Ok. So be a baby." And Nat began to act like a baby; which wasn't unusual, because she was a baby. She was even wearing baby clothes, a little pink dress with a flower on it. Her black clothing had vanished, including her bra, which was no longer important for her to wear, and would have looked hilarious in contrast to the diaper peeking out from under the dress. Her dyed-black hair was suddenly in pigtails that bounced cutely as she sucked on her thumb and rocked back and forth. It seemed like she might always have been a baby, that, in the dimness of the room, I'd confused her for an adult when I entered. Sure, she was a big baby, but not that big. I'd handled bigger babies before, and this one was so cute... "She needs her mommy," I whispered. Or thought I had whispered. Apparently, Celia heard me, because she turned the sharp spear of her gaze on me again and I almost jumped out of my chair. "She does need her mommy," Celia said, to which I could only nod mutely. "Could that be you? Is that something you'd like?" Maybe I gave her another nod, but I don't remember. I wasn't in my chair anymore, anyway. Mostly I was only aware of Natalie's cries. "Ssh, baby, don't cry. Mommy's here." The baby was suddenly in my arms. I noticed a familiar heaviness in the front of my blouse, and then something damp. It seemed like I was always feeding Nat. Brushing her adorable pigtails away, I unbuttoned my blouse and spent a moment caressing the fabric of my nursing bra. Deep down, I knew I wasn't wearing one, but I remembered putting it on. I knew I didn't have two swollen and leaking tits on my chest, either. But I did. If I thought hard enough, I could remember being eleven and wearing a training bra. As usual, when Natalie cried my milk had started to flow. Now my desire to fulfill her hunger pushed other doubts out of my mind. Cradling her delicate infant body in my arms, I pulled my boob out and gently helped Natalie find the engorged nipple. Warm pleasured washed over me as she latched on and began to suck. Past the adorable baby latched to my left tit, I glanced at my denim skirt and legs, glad they were still sexy even at my age. Even after putting on some weight in my thighs while I'd been pregnant with Natalie. "Nathan, wake up." Dr. Kay's voice brought me out of my daydream. It seemed like my eyes snapped open, although I could have sworn they'd been open the whole time. The first thing I saw was Dr. Kay and Celia, both doing their best to hang on to their professional facial expressions. Sam and Lisa grinned in amusement while I attempted to get my bearings. I noticed I was no longer in my chair. Before I could figure out that I was now on the loveseat, I felt something wet pulling on my chest. With horror, I finally realized what was going on. There was Nat, still sucking contently on my male nipple, although now I could see that she was leaving traces of black lipstick on it. Stunned to find her in my lap, I dropped my arm and she slipped from my nipple with a soft popping sound. For a few seconds, I watched with a kind of delirious disgust as her lips continued their sucking motion. Then she began to cry. And for just a moment, I felt something damp and somewhat sticky soak into the right side of my shirt, which was partially unbuttoned to allow Nat to... feed. Disconcerted by Nat's sobbing, I tried to lift her out of my lap, at first succeeding only in further disheveling her clothing. The straps of the black dress she was wearing had already slipped down her shoulders, exposing her pale, and, under other circumstances, very attractive shoulders. She seemed to like it in my lap and her resistance to my efforts threatened to pull the dress down further. It really should have been erotic, but I was only conscious of the stares of the others and how ridiculous I looked. Finally, by both pushing Nat away and sliding closer to the other end of the loveseat, I succeeded in getting everything but her head out of my lap. Her cries sounding eerily like an infant's, I instinctively gave her my finger to suck on. Which was precisely when Dr. Kay chose to order her to awaken. Nat's eyes instantly popped open and fixed first on my arm, and then on my face, still fixed in an expression of surprise. I'm still surprised she didn't snap her teeth shut around my finger, either in shock or hostility. Instead, her mouth simply stopped moving, hanging open as Nat shifted her eyes from me to the doctor and then back again. I pulled my finger away just as Nat was struggling to pull herself erect. "What the hell is going on?" she spat, looking at me as if it were my fault. "A demonstration," Kay remarked, handing the chain back to Celia. "Welcome to group therapy." "Therapy?" I murmured, still kind of stunned. "How did I get over here?" Nat's effort to sit up had caused her dress to slip right off her shoulders. Suddenly she realized we could all see her black, strapless bra and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. "This is fucking abuse!" she yelled. "I didn't give you permission to do any of this." "Natalie, you need to have an open mind," Lisa put in sympathetically. Of course, I figured she'd probably been in Nat's position at least once. "After my boyfriend dumped me, I tried to kill myself. Dr. Kay's methods probably saved my life." "I don't care about any of that!" Natalie was trying to be indignant and pull her dress back up at the same time. "I don't need her help, or anyone's." Celia held up her hand. "Just relax," she said. "This hostility is going to get in the way of your treatment." And Nat was relaxing. With only one of her dress straps in place, her hands dropped away from her shoulders and her eyes closed. Dr. Kay, who had been studying me carefully, began to speak. "It's interesting that you've been quiet so far, Nathan. What are you thinking?" "I'm thinking that this isn't what I signed up for, doc. Maybe I'm not as embarrassed as Nat because you woke me up first, but this is the last time I come to group therapy. I don't need your help, either." "I'm sorry you feel that way," she continued. "I can't force you to come to the next session, but it's really in your interest." "Yeah, we'll see about that. Can I leave now?" "Not yet. But in a few minutes our time will be over anyway." Frowning, I dug in my pocket for my cell phone, my only timekeeping device. "An hour and a half up already? Can't be." Celia smiled mischievously. "You'd be surprised. You and Nat were in a trance for well over an hour." When I finally came up with my cell phone, I realized she was correct. My movement from the chair to the couch was disturbing, but the loss of time worried me even more. But that could be rectified; I'd already moved back to my seat. The only other occasion I'd lost time, however, was when I'd bashed poor Edward with a trashcan. All I could do was stare at the time on my phone while Sam and Lisa discussed their stupid problems with the doctor. I didn't even notice when Dr. Kay and the two group members left the room, leaving Celia and Nat behind. Chapter 2, in which I get to see the breasts of Dr. Kay's assistant. I looked up to find Celia staring at me. Nat, curled into a ball and with her legs up, looked like she was sleeping. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare," she explained, smirking at the remnants of my embarrassment. "But it's only fair, considering the way you were leering at me earlier." "Um." "Don't try to deny it. You like my breasts, don't you? Most men do." "Um." Laughing, she rose from her chair and stood in front of me. My mouth was suddenly dry as I found myself drawn to gaze into her cleavage. "Don't you find me attractive?" "I do." Still laughing, she took a step or two closer so that her leg could press against my own. "Poor Natalie. How did you like being her mother? You did like it, didn't you?" "Yeah," I breathed, finding my hand suddenly on her hip. "But it still felt kind of strange." "Aw. You were just thinking of yourself as a woman." The jacket had fallen away. "You were thinking of yourself the way Dr. Kay, Lisa, and even Natalie think of themselves. The way I think of myself." "But I'm not a chick... you know that." Now she was in my lap, her legs entwined with my own. Natalie had begun to snore. Celia's hand ran down my chest in a way that made me strangely uncomfortable. "Gender is all in the mind. That was the conclusion of Dr. Kay's dissertation, didn't you know?" "Yeah, I looked it up." Face only inches from Celia's breasts, my voice was barely a whisper. With her left hand, she began to trace circles around my nipples. Her right hand pulled down the straps of her top. When her brown tits were free (she wasn't wearing a bra), Celia reached for my groin. Suddenly, her expression became one of disappointment. "Don't you find me sexy?" she asked. "Um, yes, of course." "Then why aren't you aroused?" "What do you mean?" But I could feel it. Or rather, I couldn't feel it. My dick was soft, unresponsive even to her touching. Trying to stall, I leaned in to kiss her, but Celia expertly turned away. "You don't find me sexy," she pouted. "I do! I, I love your boobs," I stammered anxiously. "Much sexier than mine." "What did you say?" The mischievous smile had returned to her lips. "I mean, I love your breasts." I'd meant to stop there, but my mouth was operating outside of my control. "I'm envious. My boobies are so small." "Go on." "I'm almost seventeen, but I have the breasts of a twelve year old girl. I wish they'd grow." Whatever I said, suddenly became true. I wanted luscious tits like Celia. Then the boys would want me and stop mistaking me for a ninth grader. As if she could read my mind, Celia giggled. "They will grow. Someday they'll feed a baby." She continued to rub my panties but I felt so incredibly small and immature that I still couldn't get aroused. "Wake up, Nathan." Suddenly I found my lap empty and Celia seated in her chair as if she'd never left it. How much time had been lost this time? I noticed Nat was no longer in the room. Shocked and confused, I jumped out of my chair. As I did, I felt a slight stirring in my shirt. "What the..." I murmured, glancing at my chest. Celia couldn't stop giggling. "Nice tits," she said. "Fortunately they won't attract any men or even high school boys since they'll seem real to you and the other group members. What's really interesting is that I left a suggestion in you allowing you only to get aroused in the event that a girl compliments your chest." "Oh, God!" But she was right. Pressed against my jeans, my dick had become painfully hard when Celia had favorably mentioned my breasts. Breasts? I was barely an A cup, but I remembered being pleased when my mother had taken me to Wal-Mart for my first real bra. At the same time, the thought of wearing a bra sickened me. "Try to get laid now," Celia scoffed. "I can just see you getting a girl in your bed and then asking her to compare bra sizes in an effort to get an erection." "That's ridiculous! This will wear off eventually, or I'll go to the authorities and force you to make me normal again." "Good luck. For one, no one is likely to believe you. For another, Dr. Kay and I already have several of the university authorities under our influence. They won't help you. And without our help you'll never be normal again." "Damn it, what do you want from me?" She rolled her eyes. "Just your continued participation in group therapy, that's all. We see potential in you and Natalie. We want to help you." "I don't see how this helps me." "Not this. This is just more demonstration. The real work will begin over the next few days." "Fuck, I can't wait." "Don't you have a class to get to?" I was going to protest, to say something, but what could I say? The swellings on my chest told me that I was dealing with a power that was for now beyond my understanding. Still, I was a "brilliant" grad student: I knew how to research, and I was sure I'd find something that would allow me to undo the effect of this therapy in the library. So to hell with Kay and Celia and their bullshit, I thought. Still, as I was leaving the room, I realized I'd left the first few buttons of my shirt open, as if to display the tits only I could see to the whole world. And although I wanted to, I couldn't cover myself. I sat in class with my legs crossed at the thighs, almost unaware of my attractive female colleagues. Several times, I found myself mournfully comparing my breasts to theirs and wondering when my bosom would grow. Chapter 3, in which I begin to learn what happened to Natalie the Goth Natalie caught up to me while I was leaving class and on my way home. "Looks like you need a bra," was the first thing she said to me. "Huh?" Then I realized that I'd been holding my arm against my chest to keep my boobs from bouncing too much and rubbing against my shirt. "You mean you can see them, too?" "Sure can. Although I know they're not real." Just then, a male jogger passed us on the corner and my arm instinctively dropped away as if I wanted him to get a good look. "I can't wear a bra," I explained. "I don't even own one. Besides, wouldn't that look strange to everyone else?" "Wear bulky shirts," she said, grinning at my embarrassment. I'd expected a little camaraderie from her, but she was taking delight from my situation as much as Celia. Suddenly, Nat frowned and began to shift from foot to foot. "What's wrong?" "Um, nothing. I've got to go." She took off practically at a run in the direction I had been walking in. Her stride seemed a bit strange to me and her hand was pressed just below her waist. All this, plus the impractical heels she was wearing made it easy for me to catch up to her. As we crossed into the deserted parking lot, I put my hand on her shoulder. "I don't think so," I said. "Tell me what's going on." "Fuck you, Nathan." Instead of turning around, she lengthened her stride and made a beeline for her vehicle, still grabbing her crotch. Again, I grabbed her shoulder, this time as we stood outside her car. "Maybe I can help?" I offered. "What did Celia do to you?" "None of your business!" Although she was baring her teeth to me like an animal, I noted that she was still shifting strangely from foot to foot. Almost as if...? Holding back a chuckle, I let her fish her keys out of her purse. "I think I know what's going on." Just as she was about to open the door, I used my shoulder to push her aside while deftly plucking the key from her hand. "Want these? You're not getting them until you tell me what Celia did." "Damn it! I need to go NOW!" "Oh, I know. Got to piss, do you?" "That's... that's not what I meant," she stammered, her expression moving from indignation to defeat. "Give those to me, please." "Come and get them," I said, my new instincts betraying my boldness: I dropped them into my cleavage, thinking they'd be held there. Instead they slipped to the waist of my jeans. That was embarrassing, but nothing compared to what Nat was going through. "Please?" she sulked, her eyes welling with tears. "Let me go?" "Ok. But first show me what's going on under your dress." Nodding bleakly, she barely checked to see if the parking lot was still empty. My face was lit with satisfaction as she pulled up her dress. Instead of the black lacy panties I expected, I saw she was wearing a pair of pull-ups training pants, the pink showing they'd been specifically designed for little girls. Both of us knew she wasn't really wearing them, and I gathered that was the reason for her hurry. For once I almost didn't mind what Celia and Kay had done to me, as they'd been much harsher with Nat. It was at once evident to me that they'd taken away most of her bladder control, half-convincing her that she depended on training pants. But Nat knew, deep down, that she was still wearing the sexy underthings she'd put on that morning, and that if she pissed herself she'd only succeed in ruining them and probably whatever she was sitting on at the time. Just as I was probably going to have to wear a bra to feel comfortable, Nat would soon find it essential to wear diapers for real. "Now please let me go?" she whimpered. "Sure," I murmured, slightly ashamed of myself. "Can I come with you? We need to talk." Sniffling, Nat only gestured to the passenger seat as she pulled herself into the compact car. It was a little more difficult for me to get inside, and the lack of space became almost unbearable once I smelled Nat's bladder let go only a block or two from her ground-floor apartment. I didn't say anything, but her discomfort was visible as she shuffled in her seat. We drove in complete silence. When we arrived, I followed Nat to the balcony door she evidently used as the primary entrance to her dwelling. The whole time, I watched as she constantly pulled the soaking dress away from her soggy backside. I was feeling pretty terrible about my antics as I heard her sob from the bathroom while I waited for her on the couch. When she returned, her composure was improved, but she didn't seem to notice that all she was wearing with a fresh pair of training pants was a t-shirt. Kay's suggestion had apparently left her mostly unconcerned with modesty when it came to her bottom half. It was strange, but from the corner of my eye only I could see sometimes that Nat was really wearing a sexy blue thong. She was undoubtedly aware of this as well, but sat with her legs apart as if bulky material separated her thighs. "Do you want a bra?" she asked suddenly. "Mine would be too big, but we could pad them so they'd fit better and you'd at least have some support." "Err, that might be a good idea." Was it? I hadn't even questioned the appropriateness of her question. It seemed natural that I would borrow her clothes, under the circumstances. We went to her bedroom and I waited patiently on the bed while she rummaged for something for me to wear. "Here," she said, holding out something lacy and white. "Strip and let's see how this fits you. It's too small for me, so it might be just right for you." Obediently, I unbuttoned my shirt and jeans and even took off my underwear until I stood completely naked in front of her. Her eyes never leaving my chest, Nat put the bra on the bed and suddenly began to rub my shoulder. There was nothing sexual about the gesture until she began to roll my nipple between her fingers, and even then I couldn't get aroused. "Mm." "You like this?" she asked, positioning herself behind me on the bed with her legs around me. Startled, I realized that at the junction of her thighs on my back I could only feel plastic. Her attention almost left me bored, as if - I thought with disgust - I were a heterosexual female. Glancing at my small breasts cupped in her palms, I found that I was at least half way to that description. "I don't like my tits," I murmured. "Ha, you're such a girl," she exclaimed, not knowing the extent of Celia's suggestion. "I love your boobs. They remind me of my own, like nine years ago." "Oh!" At her "praise", my penis sprang to attention. "Well look at that. Maybe you're a guy after all." Without another word, she slipped from behind me and knelt before me. To my surprise, she eagerly took my penis into her mouth and began to suck on it in a way very similar to how she had sucked on my tits a few hours earlier. Her enthusiasm and my pent up excitement brought me to the brink of climax very quickly. But only to the brink. As her ministrations slowed, I at first thought she was just trying to tease me. At the same time, I was beginning to feel very strange. My enthusiastic shudders were causing my breasts to sway and jiggle more than I expected, enough to be distracting. Opening my eyes, I glanced down to find I could no longer see Nat working on my dick through the swellings on my chest. My astonished gaze found tits even bigger than Natalie's perched on my chest, complete with dark red areole and nipples as hard and as thick as pencil erasers. When her mouth released me, it was almost as if Nat took my dick with her. I still felt damp between my legs, but also warm and strangely empty. And still incredibly horny, but in an unfamiliar way I didn't know how to quench. "Nat?" I said, leaning forward and at the same time finding locks of long brown hair falling across my face. "Why did you stop?" There she was on the ground, looking tiny and vulnerable with the pigtails (the same hue as my own hair) brushing against her shoulders. Curled into a ball, she seemed content to suck her thumb. My baby, I thought, my horniness suddenly forgotten but not subdued. We'd almost been lovers, maybe lesbian lovers, but now I could think of her only as my child. While I lifted her into my arms, I clucked contently at the feeling of fullness in my breasts. It was almost time for Natalie's lunch. As I brought the baby to my breast to suckle, I caught a glimpse of us in the bedroom mirror. Like before, I could only see what I knew to be the truth when I took in my reflection from the corner of my eye. I could see Nat in her tiny blue thong straddling my lap and eagerly lapping at my male nipple as her ass waved in the air in tandem with the motions of her tongue. My dick, still swollen, was nestled almost painfully into her stomach, part of it rubbing erotically between her thighs. As long as I didn't put too much emphasis on the image, I could study it, but as soon as I began to connect what I was seeing in the mirror with what was really happening, it was like my mind clouded over with doubts. As if the person in the mirror were someone else. But it wasn't me: I was a thirty-something mother, and (as I remembered from the time I had conceived Natalie) enthusiastically heterosexual. The scene in the mirror wasn't thrilling for me at all; in fact, I felt vaguely like I had to shield my child's eyes from it. While an unknown number of moments passed, I began to become less and less convinced that what I was seeing in the mirror, even indirectly, was real. Surely what I saw when I looked right into the mirror was the real image; I was the oldish woman with a child (and perhaps one other several years older.) I often fed Natalie naked because then I didn't have to worry about getting any mess on a new blouse. I had a cunt, a cunt - and I was tempted to explore the warm tingling between my thighs, brought on by the stimulation of my nipples. Suddenly, the phone on Nat's nightstand began to ring. At the same moment, I felt a familiar stickiness oozing into the place where my deflated penis was rubbing against her training pants. On the second ring, Nat was scrambling out of my lap, speechless with humiliation, but I was fairly calm as I reached over to answer the phone. "Hello?" I muttered, my eyes tracking Nat as she stumbled away from the bed. "Who is this?" She was gazing almost in fascination at the sticky white fluid I'd left on her stomach and thighs. It looked like quite the orgasm; too bad I couldn't remember what it had felt like. "Hello, Nathan." "Kay! Why the fuck are you calling here?" "Don't you remember, dear?" she said with a knowing chuckle. "You called me, just a minute or so ago." "I don't remember that." Maybe I did. Didn't I dial a number from memory almost immediately after blowing my load mostly onto the front of Nat's pink frilled trainers? Or maybe Kay was just trying to trick me. Either way, I was going to persist in my denial; no sense confirming the kind of power she had over me. "You did call, just as I asked you to before you left my office. You told me you were with Natalie and that you were ready to wake up." Shaking my head, I glanced around to room to find Nat, but she'd already returned to the bathroom. "Doc, what the hell are you doing to Nat and me?" "Helping you." "Fuck that. How does any of this help us?" "Tell me this," she continued. "Have you ever felt as calm and content as you did with your ?daughter' in your arms just now? Do you get such incontrovertible joy from any other activity in your life?" "Who knows? It's all manipulation anyway. None of what I was feeling was real." "That's up for debate. How much did you know about hypnosis before coming to see me?" "Not much," I admitted. "Do some research. Without the aid of certain drugs, you can't be hypnotized unless you're willing to be hypnotized." "I never consented to be fucked with in this way, doc." "I didn't say you had to consent; I said you had to be willing. That, somewhere inside of you, everything that happened to you under hypnosis was something you wanted." "That's a lie! I don't want to be someone's mother. I don't want tits." "Nathan, you know so very little about what you want. You beat a fellow graduate student unconscious with a metal wastepaper basket. Was that against your will or not? If, for a brief span of time, you had wanted to commit that act of violence, isn't that a desire you wouldn't admit to possessing, not even to yourself? How, then, do you know what you desire?" Damn it, if that didn't make some sense. I'd never liked Edward. He was popular but dim, the kind of guy who is liked for everything but his brain, and most people did like him. Not me, but mostly because I could see through him, could see that he was a fucking moron who traded on his physical appearance to get through life. Yet as far as I knew he didn't engage in senseless violence, and if I'd cracked his skull with a trashcan, especially in a fit of mindless rage, that would certainly prove a difference of sophistication between us. Except on that scale I was the one who ended up just a bit closer to Genghis Khan. "Nathan?" "Yeah, doc. I'm here." "Go get Natalie and take her out to dinner. Make sure she wears pants. She'll have a tendency to forget to cover her bottom half now, just like you now have a tendency to try to show off your tits. If you don't want to spend more time as her mother, try not to be alone with her too much. As long as others are around, you'll be mostly normal." "You and Celia need help, doc. You need it more than any of us." "Maybe you're right," she murmured before hanging up on me. I only realized I'd been staring blankly at the handset when the bedroom door swung open and Natalie appeared, wet from the shower and wearing a fresh pair of training pants (ok, maybe a green thong) and another t- shirt. She shook her head when I tried to ask her about what had just happened to us. "Not now, Nathan. Maybe not ever. I don't want to talk about it." She stood fidgeting in the doorway, obviously needing to discuss something but still not sure how to put it into words. Finally, she spoke, but she wasn't looking at me, like she'd figured out that the only way to release her rant without further embarrassment was to pretend I wasn't in the room. I obliged her by keeping silent. "Do you know what just happened to me? For a few minutes I couldn't figure out how to work the tap for the shower. Like it was just beyond me, you know? When I finally got it on, I had trouble getting these things" - she gestured to her crotch - "off. I did, but only by lying on the floor with my legs in the air. I wasn't in the shower five minutes before I started wetting myself... pissing in the shower, and I couldn't control myself. I just couldn't..." She trailed off, trembling as she ran out of words to describe what she was going through. I did sympathize with her; at the same time I was pretty damn pleased that I didn't have to worry about pissing my pants. Relatively speaking, I'd gotten off easy. At least I'd been given the opportunity to "get off", while as far as I could tell Nat was having a hard time even getting to her pussy. Momentarily I considered asking her if she wanted a good fuck, then remembered what the doctor had said about us spending time alone together. Once Nat was calm, I told her about the phone call. "You and I need to talk about Kay and Celia, but not here. Only in a public place. Aren't you hungry?" Still numb, she nodded and then started for the living room. "Hey, wait, where are you going?" I demanded. Nat frowned at me. "To get some food. Why don't you get dressed? I'm tired of seeing you naked." "Um, I think we both need to get dressed." "What do you mean? My shoes are..." My gesture cut her off. "Shit, I don't believe this!" Blushing furiously, she re-entered the bedroom and started going through her drawers. At the same time, I studied the bra she'd left for me on the bed. It was plain white cotton, like something a more innocent high school girl would wear. It was a struggle to get it on, partly because I'd never worn one before, and partly because it was very tight around my chest and shoulders. Although Nat had to show me how it was supposed to work, I was satisfied to see the way the bra offered just a little support and protection to my nubile tits. Finding Nat staring into my cleavage, I crossed my arms indignantly. Both of us knew that the cups of the bra were just stretched over my chest muscles, but at the same time I was almost ashamed to think that Nat was comparing her breasts to mine. They weren't that small, and, thinking of my mother, I knew that I'd soon outgrow Nat's hand-me-downs. Still, after finding my old shirt uncomfortable I was more than willing to wear one of Nat's stretchy, long-sleeved tops to cover myself. And Nat was finally wearing some pants... We got into Nat's car and decided to drive to a nearby Mexican restaurant. Nat refused to let me drive, even when I pointed out that we still weren't sure what counted as spending time alone together. An accident could easily result if the two of us became mother and daughter unexpectedly. However, as bad as it would be while driving, the thought of what would happen if we did slip into our alternate personas while in a public place horrified me. Then again, I was only just realizing that I was entering the Mexican restaurant wearing a peach-colored, fairly feminine top that just barely concealed the straps of the bra I was wearing underneath. No one else could see my tits. They could, however, very easily mistake me for some kind of crossdresser (which I guess I was, at that point, but the clothing felt so natural I had a hard time thinking of myself that way.) By this point I was absolutely starving, so there was no turning back, and I was afraid using the drivethru would leave us along together long enough to invoke the suggestion Dr. Kay had left in our minds. We went inside and I paid for both our meals, which didn't cost much since Nat ordered from the kids menu anyway, while I ordered a salad. No one seemed to care about my top or my bra strap or my tits even though I was acutely aware of all three while we found a booth near the back of the restaurant. Only when we sat down did I realize that I'd been walking with my chest deliberately stuck out, and, even worse, when we'd passed a table of male teens on the way to our booth I'd yanked the top down so it stretched more tightly across my breasts. Of course they hadn't noticed, since to them I looked completely male, but I was distraught to discover that the lack of attention left me feeling somehow inadequate about my figure. Especially compared to Natalie, who failed to turn heads only because she was moving so quickly. Picking at my salad, I watched with some satisfaction as she tried to eat her taco. She was making a mess, her hands clumsy and her coordination badly off. After a while, I decided to voice what we were probably both thinking (and that she was fearing.) "Do you need some help with that?" "No!" she spat. "No, I mean... I don't. Shit, this is just like what happened in the shower earlier." Trying not to make a scene, I moved across the table so we were sitting beside each other. "Let me help. There isn't much here, anyway." I hope my eyes were filled with concern, even though Nat wouldn't even look at me. "I'm so hungry. I can't believe the bitch did this to me." With that, she tried to make the best of it by closing her eyes, turning towards me, and letting her mouth fall open. Dutifully, I began to scoop the contents of the taco into her mouth with the fork I'd used previously for my salad. To an observer, it might have been a tender scene, like we were in love and engaging in one of those disgusting moments of sharing young couples can't get enough of. Only a little closer and the observer would wonder at the tears on Natalie's cheeks. "I'm going to get her for this," she said after she swallowed the last bite. "Both the doctor and that bitch Celia." "For some reason, Celia seems worse." Focusing especially on the mother, Nat's troubled gaze followed a family of four while they passed our booth and took a seat. As if to dismiss her dark thoughts, she smirked at me. "Maybe because she caught you staring at her titties." "Fuck, you noticed that, too?" "Sure. You're like breast obsessed. Serves you right to now have a pair of your own." I gasped as she suddenly squeezed one of my adolescent boobs. Laughing as I clutched my chest, she continued. "Though I know no one else can see them, I love it that a typical male is now experiencing something so female. Even better is that it is the experience of a fifteen year old girl." "And you have to wear diapers. So who's worse off?" "I don't have to wear them. I can control myself just fine. Can you go without a bra now?" Grimacing, I remembered the disturbing sensation of my breasts jiggling freely against my shirt and shook my head. "So when can I expect to see you display some of that new titty-flesh in a low-cut tank top?" "Blah, never," I replied, but too quickly. Wasn't the idea at least a little appealing? "Besides, I bet what the doctor did to us is going to wear off soon anyway." Or so I hoped. The possibility that I might soon be found shopping for a strapless bra to wear with the tank top was too horrible to consider. "What makes you think she's going to release us?" "Uh, well... it wouldn't be therapeutic not to?" As I hadn't done as of yet, I quickly filled her in on the details of Dr. Kay's telephone call, along with my suspicion that in some twisted way she really did want to help her patients. I say suspicion because if all she wanted to do was torture us, she might tire of that fairly quickly; but if she wanted to help us... well, what weren't some people willing to do to live up to the demands of their consciences? "What's that smell..." Natalie murmured, just before she turned a rather distinct shade of red. "What IS that smell?" I asked rhetorically. "It couldn't be YOU, could it, Natalie?" I didn't even bother to whisper. "Because I know you wouldn't piss yourself in a public place, not with all your vaunted self- control." "Oh my GOD, I'm soaked!" she exclaimed, pointlessly patting her thighs with a pair of napkins. "I didn't imagine... how could I have anything left in me?" "Well, you did just have a fair amount of soda, and then you had that big glass of water before we left. Why did you do that, anyway?" Her eyes shifted to mine, then back into her lap. "I was THIRSTY!" "I suppose we should leave?" Stricken, she gestured to the exit, which due to our seating choice was at the other end of the restaurant. "How do I get over there without people noticing?" Neither of us had a jacket or anything with which she could have covered herself. If I'd had one, I don't think I would have offered it to her. "If you just walk confidently," I suggested, "maybe people will think you just spilled your drink on yourself." Maybe. But the pattern of the stain was pretty distinctive, and then there was the smell... still, my suggestion, meager as it was, offered her enough hope to get moving. Probably the itchy dampness of her jeans was a motivating factor as well. Leaving the restaurant, I heard only isolated snickers, and they were all coming from the table of boys I'd almost flashed on the way in. To her credit, Natalie seemed to ignore everyone, even me. She strode to her vehicle with such determination that I more than half-expected her to drive away without me, but she wasn't even getting into the front seat. Instead, she slipped into the back and there was a flurry of movement before she dropped the keys into the passenger seat and closed her door. The car had never been locked, so I took the hint and got behind the wheel, hoping I remembered where Natalie lived so I could take us there. Before starting the vehicle, I glanced behind to see its owner with her legs now freed from the soiled jeans and curled up unto the seat. She was sucking her thumb and rubbing the front of her thong in a very innocent way. The stench of urine was pretty overwhelming. Just as I was about to conclude that she'd regressed on me again, we both heard a small rumble coming from Natalie's stomach and she began to curse. "Not this. No fucking way." "Um." "Take me home!" she shrieked. "Right, but... the traffic? Are you sure you wouldn't want, you know, check into the bathroom here instead?" "Just drive!" Nodding, I started the car and hurriedly backed out of the parking space. Although Natalie hadn't explained herself, I knew she didn't want to use a public bathroom because to do so she would have to get back into the soaking wet jeans and then walk through the restaurant again. Then she'd have to take them off, which I was guessing something she was having trouble with from any position but on her back. Still, I doubted that if we ran into traffic she'd be able to control herself long enough to make it home. Eh, it was her car, and I could put up with the smell, especially if it would blunt her bad attitude to an extent. "Ugh, damn it," she groaned, rubbing her stomach. Yeah, that attitude. Maybe after I'd seen her humiliated once again she'd stop talking about my tits. Dumping a load of shit into one's own almost-brand-new car had a way of humbling a person. For a while, all was quiet in the backseat, at least until we failed to make it through an intersection before the stoplight cycled back to red. Then Natalie began to swear again, even kicking the back of my seat as if that would hurry us along in some way. This I could mostly ignore. It became difficult even to drive only when she began to whine like a wounded cat. When I told her to shut it, she only increased the level of her bitching. "Natalie, this is ridiculous. Look, why don't I pull into that gas station before the traffic becomes even thicker? Probably no one will be around but the attendant. Maybe you won't even need to put your pants back on." "No!" she snarled. "I can make it home. Dr. Kay doesn't have that much control over me." Sighing, I reached for the tape deck. "At least let me put on some music so I don't have to listen to you. What kind of music do you like, anyway?" Given her goth-ness, it was a stupid question to ask. That's why I was surprised to hear what I did when I jammed the tape that had been sticking out of the stereo all the way into the slot. It sounded like flutes, very airy, the melody almost hypnotic... Chapter 4, in which I play the part of Odysseus "Turn that fucking thing off!" Natalie was shrieking, but I wasn't really interested in what she had to say anymore. In fact, we drove in silence from that point on, and I only realized something was amiss when I heard a car door slam near my head. My door. "What the..." The engine was off altogether. We were in a parking lot, Natalie still in the backseat but apparently sleeping. In the passenger seat there was a large plastic bag that was stretched across a rectangular package of some sort. Apparently, I'd just gotten back behind the wheel, and I could remember bringing the bag into the car with me and even putting it into the seat. And then slamming my door. And then glancing at my sleeping girl in the back and smiling at her in a motherly way. "You motherfucker!" She didn't sound much like a little girl any more. "Where are we? Why didn't you turn the stereo off?" "I... I don't know. I don't know where we are. I don't know why I didn't turn it off, but at the time it didn't seem like the right thing to do." Dismissing me with a wave of her hand, she turned to look out one of the windows. "I recognize this place. It's a plaza about half way between the Mexican place and my apartment. The only thing I've ever used it for is the... oh my God, the drugstore. What did we do?" Her stricken expression told me she was rapidly remembering, as was I. The flutes had continued throughout the drive, but after ten seconds or so, Celia had begun to speak from the car speakers with the light music in the background. I remembered her voice, even if I couldn't recall what she'd said to us. How had she gotten the tape into Natalie's car? Had it been there all along? Had I put it there myself without remembering it? It didn't seem possible. But there was some evidence: thinking back, I had no recollection of the tape sticking out of the stereo on the road between the college and Natalie's apartment. Only afterwards it had been there, and didn't I have the faintest remembrance of Natalie putting it in the slot but not pushing it in all the way on the way to the Mexican place? It didn't matter. Somehow, Celia had gotten to us, probably through a post-hypnotic suggestion, the way she'd had us behaving like mother and child back at Nat's apartment. Compared to that trick, putting a tape into Natalie's purse while she was in a trance and then telling her to ready it in the stereo for later on didn't seem so unbelievable. What was neat was the way I'd so seamlessly fallen into my part in the scheme, as if she and I had been acting in a play under Celia's direction. But without knowing it, until she'd wanted us to know it. Until now, when it was still exceptionally humiliating. Celia couldn't communicate with us directly (I was thankful I'd left my cell phone at home to charge), but she didn't need to do so. With me at the wheel, it was safe for Natalie and I to cross over into our "alternate personalities," although the change had been relatively gradual, if still irresistible. Given our antics in the car, perhaps we were already halfway to being mother and daughter even before I put on the tape. Suddenly, I was pushing long strands of auburn hair out of my eyes and realizing my seatbelt was unbuckled and that this would set a terrible example for Natalie. While waiting at a light, I had to adjust the shoulder strap so that it fit more comfortably over my milk-filled bosom. At some point, I remembered that I needed to stop at the drugstore before going home. With Natalie contentedly sucking her thumb in the backseat, I turned into the nearest plaza and even checked my makeup in the mirror before exiting the car and helping my daughter with her seatbelt. With the key removed from the ignition, the tape was no longer playing, but the two of us had already received our new instructions. Thinking back, I realized the importance of getting new instructions. The personalities Dr. Kay had given us before were more or less just templates, with most of the content coming from our own imaginations, constrained by our own sense of what was logical. As I learned later, this was how hypnotism usually worked: the hypnotist could ask the subject to think of a house, but unless she specified otherwise, the details of the house would be up to subject to devise, within the bounds of what the subject himself thought was rational (so no houses that were twenty stories high, with stained glass windows and neon green doors.) Thus, if Natalie and I had become mother and daughter without the tape's influence, we most likely would have returned to her apartment without making any detours - only, in my mind, I would have been taking my child home after a meal, a perfectly rational course of action. However, on this occasion, Celia had wanted more from us. The tape was designed to enact the changes she wanted from us at approximately the appropriate time, without Celia having to know in advance what that time would be. Most importantly, perhaps, it had included instructions allowing us to remember what had happened to us under its influence. And oh how I remembered. I was punching the steering wheel in remembrance. No matter what Kay had done to us so far, what Celia had set us up for was far more embarrassing. Somehow, I suspected it was her own idea, too. While I could believe that perhaps the doctor really wanted to help people in her own twisted way, Celia now seemed like nothing more than a sadist. There was no therapeutic benefit to what she'd had us do - absolutely none. While I helping Natalie out of her seat, I'd had no idea that our relationship had changed just slightly. That she was not strapped into a car seat was just evidence that she was growing up, and more a source of pride than of surprise. I accepted that she was no longer an infant, even though she was still breastfeeding, and the tape quickly informed me that she'd begun to walk for herself not long ago. So I took her hand and we walked into the drugstore together. The reflection I saw in the front window showed her tottering on chubby legs, wearing only a diaper and a cute t shirt with a ducky on it. Absurdly, she didn't seem any shorter, nor did I remember her body being any less developed from the waist up. On the other hand, I was completely a woman, from the tented front of my blouse to the slacks I wore over the slight bulge of my belly. The one-inch heels I wore even clicked softly as we entered the store. It was a big place, but I seemed to have little trouble finding what I wanted. First, diapers for my daughter, apparently in a size that would fit her. Second... oh, God, I was having trouble remembering, not because my recollection was fuzzy but because the events were too embarrassing for me to easily visualize. The tape had set me up. Face heated, I forced myself to recall how I'd nonchalantly selected a package of Maxi-Pads from the shelf and placed it into my basket. Apparently my flow was heavy because I didn't pick the ultra-thins. As I shopped, Natalie held my hand and tottered along. The other two customers in the store saw a college-age male in a very feminine top chattering indulgently both to himself and in response to the steady stream of what sounded like gibberish coming from the girl whose hand he was holding. She was practically naked, wearing only a thong that from the front seemed to carry an ominous stain. To Natalie and I, everything was normal, so neither of us noticed the angry stares we were getting as I picked up some pink lipstick and a shade of eye shadow that probably did closely match my eyes. It was a wonder no one had called the cops. Or was there more to remember? As we turned the corner on the way to the checkout line, I recalled glancing at someone's face. Unlike the cashier and everyone else in the store, he was smiling at us. I hadn't recognized him at the time, but now... now I could almost put together his stubbly homeless guy face in my mind, along with his knowing smirk. "That disgusting pig Sam was in the drugstore!" Natalie suddenly blurted from behind me. I turned to find her with her hand on the door handle. "What do you think you're doing?" "Sam's probably still in there! Do you think that's a coincidence? I want to sodomize him with a fucking broom handle." "You've got to be kidding me. You're still half naked." "Does it matter now?" Rolling my eyes, I gestured across the parking lot. "Maybe not. But if he has something to do with what happened to us, do you really think he'd hang around the store afterwards waiting for us to have our revenge?" She glanced at the door handle, then out the window, then back to the door again. Pale with rage, what stopped her from streaking back into the drugstore was not my appeal to common sense, but a familiar rumble from her stomach. "No, not now," she wheezed, pulling her knees to her chest as revenge was suddenly forgotten. "I don't think I can hold it any more." Frantically, I reached for the keys that I'd conveniently left on the dash. Before I could start the car, she kicked the seat to stop me. "Didn't you hear me? I'm not going to make it. In less than a minute I'm going to shit all over my upholstery." I began to suggest we try to make it into a public bathroom, but she shook her head. "Great, that way, instead of ruining the backseat, I can shit myself in front of a crowd or in the parking lot." "Well what do you want me to do?" An answer was before both of us, but it was utterly unspeakable. Natalie quickly came up with a second best option. "The bag. I can shit into the bag from the drugstore." "Fine," I said, handing the whole awkward thing to her. The bag was pretty large, but she needed my help sliding the package of diapers out of it. More noise from her stomach interrupted the weak smile that came to her lips when she found the Maxi-Pads and makeup. When the bag was free, she pulled it into the backseat with her and began to fumble with her thong. But it was no use; although the tape had allowed us both to clearly see that she was wearing underwear and not training pants, Natalie was still unable to remove what little was covering her bottom. "What's stopping you?" I murmured, to which she shook her head: "It's like I'm unable to completely bare my groin still." "Um, can I help?" "I bet you'd just love that." "Well... not really. What if you explode while my hands are down there?" "Just get back here and help me, you bastard," she demanded. "If you insist." Once in the backseat with her, she was able to lay on her back with her legs stretched out into my lap. That was all the help she was apparently able to give me, and I slid the panties down her thighs while she just stared at the car's ceiling. My breath caught unexpectedly when I saw how carefully she had trimmed her pubic hair. A full bush would have been even more disgusting matted with urine, but hers was neat and left her with an exceptionally attractive pussy even given the circumstances. Sneering, she pulled her knees up and closed her legs. "What the hell are you looking at?" "Nothing." "Right. Now can you help me with the bag?" "What do you want me to do?" "Hold it steady while I get on top of it. And stop looking at my cunt." "The bag isn't going to work, you know," I said. "If you just sit on it, then the shit might slide off it, especially if... well, you know. And if you try to sit IN it, you're likely to miss the opening for the same reason. About the only thing we could do is tear two holes in the end for your legs and you could pull it up to your waist." "Turn it into a fucking diaper? That's such a stupid idea that --" At that moment, her mouth clamped shut and she released a tremendous fart. Aware of how close we were now sitting, I frowned. "To be honest, I don't think we have time to make a diaper out of the bag..." "You want to make me wear a diaper, is that it?" Laughing bitterly at my vigorous denials, she pointed at the bulge that was visible in my pants. "Who complimented your titties, little miss jiggles? Or is the thought of me in a diaper so stimulating for you that it overrides Kay's programming?" Furious, I decided it no longer mattered if I chose my words carefully or not. "You know, I could leave you here to drive home after you fill your car with shit." "You don't even know if they'll fit!" "I think they will. Except for your hips, you're really skinny, and the fit doesn't need to be perfect, just good enough. Maybe we can find something to fasten them with around your hips." Perhaps too eagerly, I was already reaching into the front seat to tear open the plastic package. "You know, I'm tired of having you take care of me," she muttered. "Put