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Schizophrenia free porn video
Schizophrenia
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters
"As you can see," said Dr Theobald, "we have had to put him in restraints
again."
Her face was up to the window, but she kept her eyes closed. She could
not bear to look. She knew what she would see. Her precious son. The
one that she had held to her breast, and nurtured, was insane.
"I want to discuss with you a therapy," said Dr Theobald. "It is a
longshot, but with your consent we could try something."
She was shaking. She hated this place. She avoided it and felt guilty
for that. She had abandoned her son.
"Darryl's problem is his multiple personalities," said Dr Theobald.
"There are three sides to him. I suspect they are modelled on his
experiences. This person is 'Rillo' who is extremely violent. I wonder
if he might be modelled on your late husband. I understand that he had
issues with mental health too, and with violence."
"Yes," she said. "He died a violent death. I don't want to see Darryl
go the same way."
She walked with him down the corridor, away from her child. He
continued: "The origins of the character 'Dar' are more difficult to
ascertain, but in many ways, he is even more dangerous. He is cold and
calculating. He is likely to conceal his motives. My staff are in more
danger with him than with 'Rillo'."
He pushed the door to the interview room open and motioned her to sit.
"And then there is 'Debbie'," he said. "I suspect that she is inspired
by you. She is gentle and caring. While she is the dominant personality
my staff find your son not only tolerable, but pleasant and helpful."
"That's nice," she said, still in the state of shock that existed every
moment she was in this place.
"Periods as Debbie can last for hours, but they are dispelled the moment
that the myth is dispelled. She is about to sit on the toilet and comes
to the realisation that there is a penis in her hand and she is Debbie no
longer."
He picked up her son's file. It was thick with reports. She stared at
him blankly, but with the pleasant half smile that face fell to
naturally.
Dr Theobald recognised the expression. Debbie had the same look. He
said: "I want Debbie to stay so I am going to suggest some surgical
adjustments to your son. Nothing permanent. This is experimental. I
just want to conceal his genitals so that his body is more recognizable
as Debbie. If we keep him as Debbie he would be more manageable, and
there may even be the hope of him living a close to normal life, in what
is the most agreeable personality."
She looked at him with a slightly confused look.
"Do you understand what I am suggesting," said Dr Theobald.
"You want my son to become a woman?" she asked. "Is that possible?"
"Well, medically no," he said. "There is gender reassignment surgery, of
course, but I am not suggesting that. Just the concealment of his male
gender. His testicles would be pushed up and his penis stitched back so
that he looked female down there, and he would toilet as a woman would.
His penis would not be there to trigger his return to either of these
highly destructive male personalities."
"Will it work?" she asked.
"To be honest, I don't know," he said. "But if you will sign the consent
we will try it. Honestly, short of keeping your son in a stupor we have
few treatments available. This is radical, but if it works we have a
person who can function in society, but as a woman, not a man. I have
the papers right here ...."
***
It was a month before she went back to the Hospital. She had never met
this 'Debbie' but Dr Theobald had told her that she was expecting her
mother to visit, and that he had no reason to doubt that this personality
would not accept her as her mother.
As he led her down the hall to the garden Dr Theobald seemed extremely
pleased with himself.
"It's going very well," he said. "Better than we expected. Initially we
had some small reversions to male personas, but we have encouraged some
changes in appearance to reinforce the 'Debbie' aspect, and fitted
mirrors in his room to make her visible. When you see him, or should I
say her, you will understand why 'Dar' and 'Rillo' are difficult to
reconcile. Please be sure to call her 'Debbie'."
They went out into the garden where there were private areas for patients
to meet family. She had never been here before. Her son had never been
allowed out here. He was too unstable. She felt optimistic for the
first time since he was committed.
She was about to walk past the young woman in the peach colored dress
before Dr Theobald took her by the arm and said: "Here she is. How are
you today, Debbie?"
Darryl's mother looked at the person as she stood and came towards her.
There was her son's face but smooth and bright. The eyebrows had been
shaped and there might be a trace of eye makeup and a little color in the
lips. The smile was heart-warming. She could not remember the last time
she had seen him smile.
"Oh mother," the young woman said. "I'm so glad you could come."
They embraced and Darryl's mother put her hands in the girl's hair. It
was now dyed blonde and was in a short but feminine style, with a few
soft curls. It felt thick and it smelled of floral shampoo. She could
not let go of her child. It seemed like the first embrace in 15 years.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
When she broke the embrace she could see that there were tears in her
child's eyes as well. They looked big and beautiful. The face was
surprisingly pretty.
"Oh Debbie," she said. Somehow the name just came. This person was
easily recognizable. But this was not Darryl - this was Debbie, her
daughter.
***
"I want to talk to you about the possibility of Debbie being released,"
said Dr Theobald. "We feel very confident that she can function in the
world, but perhaps with one last surgical adjustment.
Debbie's mother settled into the seat in his office. It was now a place
she felt so much better in. Things had changed so much. Dr Theobald was
clearly the best psychiatrist ever.
"Whatever you think is right," she said. "Getting her home is all that I
could have hoped for." She now used on the feminine pronoun. It was as
if her son Darryl had been a bad dream.
"Debbie is aware that her genitals are non-conforming," he continued.
"And the hormones, while they have been very effective in promoting male
female characteristics, have not promoted the breast growth commensurate
with her physique. Her treatment is still entirely in your hands. I
have prepared a consent for a full sex-reassignment procedure."
He pushed the papers towards her. He was a miracle worker and she would
have signed anything.
"There will be some discomfort for her," he added. "We will provide an
explanation which is in accord with her view of herself. After a brief
assessment I would hope that Debbie can be released, into your care,
fairly soon afterwards.
Her mother was already signing.
"Let's go to see her," said Dr Theobald, rising and holding the door
open. "As you know, for the last year she has been working as a nurse
aid on a voluntary basis. She has proved to be excellent in that role.
But she has also been studying for a diploma in psychiatric nursing. I
think that she could sit and pass the exams before she is discharged."
They walked down to the station in the East Wing where Debbie could be
seen looking through some reports. She now wore the hospital uniform
worn by unqualified staff. Her blonde hair was pulled into a loose but
smart bun. She wore a little more makeup these days, but only enough to
appear presentable at work.
"Hi Mom," she called out. With familiarity now, as they saw one another
more than 3 times a month these days. "Good morning Dr Theobald."
Good morning Debbie," he replied. "Can we slip into here for a private
conversation, the three of us?" He opened the door to a room where they
could talk privately.
"Sure," she said. "Maddy, can you take over...." She handed over the
papers to another one of the staff and followed Dr Theobald and her
mother into the room.
"I have just been discussing with your mother, your gynaecological
problem," he said. "We have surgery planned for you...."
Debbie's face betrayed concern, which Dr Theobald was quick to dispel.
"It is a very common procedure," he said. "Low risk. Extremely positive
outcomes. I am sure that you be very happy once it is done. We only
want the best for you. Once your health is restored we are all hoping
that you can be out of here. What do you say?"
"I like working here," Debbie said. "I think that I am very good at my
job. I am only a nurse-aide but I think that I have some good nursing
skills. I would like to continue with the work, and my studies towards a
nursing diploma. But of course, I would like the freedom to come and go
as well.
"I think that is a possibility," the doctor said. "Just one adjustment
to confirm who you are. That's all that is required."
***
Max had not met Debbie. He had been Debbie's mother's partner for over a
year, having met her well after Darryl was committed. In fact, by the
time he met her it was Debbie she spoke about, her daughter recovering in
a mental hospital. And they had chosen to time their wedding until after
Debbie was released, so that she could be her mother's bridesmaid and
witness.
He thought when he first met her, that it was hard to believe that this
young woman had ever been a man. She just looked and behaved so
completely as a woman. But then when a week later she appeared dressed
as her mother's bridesmaid at the wedding, he should have recognised what
he felt.
Of course, his bride looked incredible, but Debbie was something else
again. She wore pink and her hair was up in a complex hairdo woven with
fragrant pink roses. A more sensible man would have recognised that the
feelings he was having were wrong, and could spell the doom of this
marriage. A man cannot fall for the bridesmaid on his wedding day, let
alone when the bridesmaid was the child of his bride, so many years
younger than him.
But the truth is he found himself thinking about Debbie all through the
honeymoon. When he made love to his new wife he was think about Debbie.
He was imagining he was inside Debbie not her mother.
And the crazy thing is that Max knew that his wife was a real woman, and
that Debbie had been born a boy. He was aware that she had gone through
a sex change surgical procedure recently, but it did not change the fact
hers was a male body modified to appear female. Was it the fact that
Debbie was different this way that was the source of his fascination?
Was this his first gay experience? He wanted to shake it off. He wanted
to be a good husband. These thoughts were wrong is so many ways.
But the truth is that it was only weeks after the wedding that he found
himself alone with Debbie and he has gagging to have sex with her. Only
a few more weeks after that those desires were realized. He was in her
room, thrusting into her lubricated artificial vagina. She was
whimpering and moaning in a feminine voice, but in the moment of orgasm
he could swear it was a male cry that mixed with his. But somehow that
made his feel even better - somehow more potent.
His wife was asleep down the hall. He had just fucked his trans-
stepdaughter. Nothing could ever change that. Nothing could be the same
after that.
***
Men are simple creatures, and transparent to the more discerning female
mind. Debbie's mother was suspicious after less than a year of marriage.
"Your mother is very angry with me," Max told Debbie. "She thinks that I
am having an affair."
"Don't call it that," scolded Debbie. "You make it sound cheap and
casual. Tell me it is more than that." She took his arm and looked at
him in that pleading way that both of them knew melted his heart. "She
said: "The last thing that I want to do is to see my mother unhappy, but
neither of us can deny how we feel about one another."
She pushed him onto his back and felt his penis. It was showing the
first swelling flow of blood. He would be ready again soon. She knew
what to do.
She swept her hair to one side so that he could see her go down on him.
She licked to get a rise and then took his penis into her mouth. She
bobbed up and down, making the slurping noises that she knew from
experience in his position, was a turn on. That and she needed to ensure
that he was well lubricated for what was to follow.
She straddled him, shaking her long curls about her shoulders, and
smiling down at him. She lowered herself down upon his pole, whimpering
his sweet delight. She would have happily pretended for his benefit, but
the truth is that she adored having a pussy, and nothing about it was
better that having a real penis, hard and hot, inside it.
She began to move up and down. She was on top, the way it used to be,
but this was better. She could twist and wriggle. There was much more
going on. More control. More sensitivity. She could quicken the pace.
And then she could feel his hips rising off the bed to meet her. She had
produced plenty of saliva, and it made a wonderful sound, between the
banging of his hips on her inside thighs.
"Easy baby," she whispered. There would be no pretence this time. It
was rising in her. It was close. And then it was on her. Ohhhh. And
him too. She welcomed his sperm. It was messy as it ran out of her,
with nowhere to go. But it was power. Her power over him.
She collapsed beside him.
After a while nestling in the moment, she whispered: "She has to know. I
will tell her."
"No. It is all my fault," said Max. "You did nothing to egg me on. The
consequences are down to me. I will tell her." Somehow, she knew that
she would have to do it.
She said nothing. But she agreed with him. She placed a reassuring kiss
on her lips.
***
Max burst into the room.
"What has happened?" said Max looking at his wife's lifeless body. "Did
you do this?"
"God no, my darling," sobbed Debbie. "I could never hurt anybody, let
alone my mother."
She seemed to be distraught. There was blood on her hands and the tips
of her long blonde hair were tinged with blood. She could see him
staring at her.
"I tried to stop the bleeding," she said. "But I knew it was too late
even before I started. She died in my arms. I didn't do it, but it is
my fault."
Max mind was racing. What should he do? His beloved Debbie. What was
she saying? Did it matter? She was upset. He took Debbie into his
arms. Her blood-soaked hands clasped his back.
"Who did it?" he said softly but firmly. "How is it your fault?"
"It was Dee," she said tearfully. "I invited Dee to visit and have
lunch. Then mother turned up, and they got in an argument, and Dee just
went crazy."
"Who is Dee?"
"She was a patient at the hospital," she said. "Somebody I thought I was
close to. She was trying to protect me, I think, in her own misguided
way. I never should have let her in. Now look what has happened." She
was sobbing into Max's shoulder.
"Where is this person? When did they leave? We need to call the
police."
"She has gone now," said Debbie.
"You invited this person here?" asked Max. "You've never spoken about
her before. Who is she? She has killed somebody. She is dangerous."
He was trying to free himself from Debbie's embrace, but she was not
letting go, and she was deceptively strong.
"Who is this Dee?"
"I am sure I have told you about her. I met her in hospital. Dee is a
male to female transsexual," she explained. "She had a sex change only
recently. Before that she was Darryl."
Max was suddenly confused. He asked her: "But that was your name?
Before your operation?"
"That's right," she suddenly appeared to realise. There was suddenly a
very cold look in her eye that made Max feel very uncomfortable, very,
very uncomfortable.
"So it was." Debbie's voice sounded different. Not like her at all.
The End
© Maryanne Peters 2018
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