The Couch - Part Thirteen
The Brandt Sessions

 

By Dirk Vincento
dirkvincento @ hotmail . com
Copyright 2012 by Dirk Vincento, all rights reserved.

           

Brian would never know how much time actually passed.  Hours and minutes had lost all meaning to him.  He only knew that it did eventually come to an end.  The cum stopped pouring out of his cock.  The breasts that had covered his face were no longer smothering him.  His breathing was heavy and laboured, but with each lung full of air he felt himself recuperating, regaining his composure . . . and possibly his mind.

            He opened his eyes, although he had no recollection of closing them, and looked up at Dr. Brandt.  She was sitting on top of him where Donna had been some time before, smiling down at him compassionately.  He found himself incapable of being surprised at seeing her there.  In fact, he felt sure that he would never be surprised by anything ever again, at least not in this life.  He looked into her clear blue eyes and marvelled at how beautiful they were.  Windows to the soul, he had been told.  If that was true, then this was a woman he could truly love.

            His gaze fell idly to her chest.  Her bosom rose up impressively, filling her sweater with its considerable mass.  He looked at it a little longer, admiring the feminine curves it gave her figure.  He started to continue down to her narrow waist and hips when

it hit him.  His eyes darted back to her bust.  He tried to look harder and waited.  Nothing!  It was gone.  Panic began to take hold of him.

            “No, please!  Don’t do this to me!”

            He kept looking at her breasts and tried to feel something . . . anything!  But it was like dipping into an empty well.  A universe once filled with stars was now empty and black.  His eyes filled with tears as his sense of loss overcame him.  Dr. Brandt just kept smiling at him sweetly.

            “Don’t be afraid,” she said, her voice incredibly soft and reassuring.  “It’s alright.  You’re cured.”

            The scream started deep inside him and built up strength as it rose in his throat.  By the time it exploded through his lips, its power was deafening.

            “NOOOOOOO . . .

 

12

. . . OOOOOOOO!!!!!!

            Brian sat bolt upright in bed, awakened by his own scream.

 

13

            Mrs. McNabb’s desk was empty.  When Brian entered the waiting room, he had fully expected to find her in her seat, working away industriously as usual.  But instead there was just a cardboard sign propped up in the middle of her blotter that read:

PLEASE HAVE A SEAT

            Remembering that this was the first time he had come for an evening appointment, he assumed that she had already gone home for the day and left the sign to take her place welcoming the clients as they came in.  The rest of the waiting room was deserted, so Brian did as Mrs. M’s fill-in suggested and took a seat.

            It seemed eerie being here after hours, which only added to the apprehension he was already feeling.  It was strange how just knowing that the rest of the building was mostly deserted could make a person feel so jumpy.  The absence of footsteps, muffled conversations and slamming doors left nothing but the low electrical hum of the lights and the faint sound of the wind blowing outside.  It all felt a little too much like something out of an episode of the Twilight Zone and for short moment Brian considered leaving.  But that idea was quickly cast out by his desire to see the woman waiting for him in the inner office.  Even through the wall, he could feel the power she had over him keeping him in his seat in spite of the creepy atmosphere of the room . . . and it felt good.  It felt particularly good because it wasn’t very long ago that he had thought he would never feel the effects of that power again.

            When Brian first woke up from his dream, the images in his mind were so vivid and clear that it would have been difficult to convince him that they weren’t real.  If the lights had suddenly been turned on, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find himself lying on the floor of Dr. Brandt’s office with Donna still smiling down at him.  Within a few minutes, he remembered where he was and as is so often the case, the details of his dream quickly faded to a blur, leaving him with nothing but the feelings the dream had evoked and the fear that his obsession with big breasts was gone.  He lay for a long time in the dark trying to separate reality from fantasy and at the same time searching inside himself for the passion he was afraid he had lost.  But the intensity of his reaction to the dream had sent his mind spinning into chaos, making it impossible to tell what he did or did not feel.  Sometime shortly before dawn, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, still uncertain as to whether or not he had lost the very thing he was now coming to realize he cherished more than anything else in the world.

            By morning the dream had drifted even further away, although the feelings lingered on like the faint aroma left behind from last night’s meal.  The fear that he had lost his attraction to big breasts gripped him the moment he opened his eyes, instantly filling him with a terror he was still too groggy to entirely understand.  It wasn’t until Amanda’s image popped into his mind and the initial twinges of an erection began to stir in his groin that the first wave of relief hit him.  By the time he was in the shower, he had begun to accept that it had just been a dream and the idea that he was going to be okay started to seem like a reality.

            Brian gradually regained his confidence as he went through the rest of his early morning routine.  When he arrived at work and caught a glimpse of the new receptionist, whose abundant bosom had been the talk of the office since her arrival, he was practically feeling his old self again.  But the knowledge that his obsession was still with him wasn’t helping him to stave off the nagging feeling that if his dream hadn’t robbed him of his fetish, then perhaps it was a prophecy, warning him of things to come.

            The door to Dr. Brandt’s office opened suddenly and a woman in her late twenties appeared, glanced at Brian with a look of embarrassment, and then hurried out the door.  The whole process took only a matter of seconds and then Brian was alone again.

       For the next few minutes, the passage of time was like the winding of a spring, the feeling of tension increasing with each passing second.  In spite of having told himself over and over again that none of it had been real, Brian was still completely uncertain about how he would react to seeing Dr. Brandt.  While many of the details of his dream had faded away, quite a few images still lingered in his mind, springing out at him unannounced and teasing him with their sudden erotic intensity.  He was afraid that being in the same room with Amanda would bring back the entire dream in all its glory, and what that might lead to was a scene far too embarrassing to contemplate.  But no matter how much fear had built up in him over the last few days, or the last few minutes, it was still no match for the force that had brought him here or the power that left him no choice but to stay.

            By the time Dr. Brandt opened the door and asked Brian to come in, his nerves were dancing like live electrical wires.  As he entered the room, he could feel the familiar sensations of his obsession creeping over him.  And as he sat down opposite her, his worst nightmare came true as the images from his dream flooded his mind.

            “The woman who just left . . . she seemed quite upset,” Brian said, groping at anything to fill the silence.

            “She still has some issues to work out,” Amanda responded, obviously intending to observe doctor/patient confidentiality.  “How have you been feeling?”

            Brian started to answer, but all he could think of was the memory of his endless ejaculation, the sensation of being drained until he was completely spent and then looking up and seeing Dr. Brandt sitting astride him and smiling so sweetly.  He tried to separate the woman in his dream from the one he was looking at now, but no matter how hard he tried, he still expected any moment to hear her say: Don’t be afraid.  It’s alright.  You’re cured.

            “I’ve been fine,” he said finally, as his eyes dropped to Amanda’s chest.  Today she wasn’t wearing a blazer and the huge mounds under her sweater reminded him too much of the way her breasts had looked in his dream as he gazed up at them from the floor – only this time he didn’t have to worry about his fetish being gone.  On the contrary, he could already feel the pleasant tingling in his groin teasing him as his erection began to grow.

            “Last time we touched on some very sensitive issues,” Dr. Brandt continued, apparently unaware of Brian’s state, “and it wouldn’t be unusual for you to have experienced some latent feelings or emotions.  There’s been nothing like that that you can think of?”

            She watched Brian and waited, knowing she would learn more from the way he answered her than the actual answer itself.  She was, in fact, quite aware of how Brian was acting and knew it was better to try to get some idea of what was behind his behavior before alluding to it directly.  It seemed strange that he had become less comfortable since the last session rather than more so, which was usually the case.  Under the circumstances, she knew it was possible that her not wearing a jacket was responsible for his agitated state, but so far she had been successful at keeping her breasts from being directly involved in their sessions and she didn’t want to bring them into the picture now unless it was absolutely necessary.

            “I can’t think of anything,” Brian lied.          

            Dr. Brandt watched Brian’s eyes.  They told her this was definitely something that had happened since the last session, not something that was happening now.  With her own bosom no longer a suspect, and until she had a better idea of exactly what had happened, she decided it was best to proceed normally.

            “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to hypnotize you again.  I think it’s important that we look further back into your childhood.  While the experience you recalled last time was undoubtedly profound, there’s a good chance that the source of your problem may have started at an even younger age.  We would be looking for the kind of memories that are often long forgotten, making hypnosis the most effective technique for retrieving them.”

            Those experiences created certain desires . . . a hunger, if you will, that was never fully satisfied.

            Brian could feel reality and the memory of his dream melding into one.

            “I think it could be very helpful.”

            To free you from your obsession, all we have to do is fulfill the needs of the child within you.  Once your hunger has been satiated and your appetite fed, the cycle will be complete and your attraction to breasts will be gone.

            “You just mean my obsession will be gone,” Brain whispered, fantasy and reality having now come almost too close to separate.

            “I beg your pardon?” Dr. Brandt asked, having not quite caught what Brian said.

            “That would be fine,” Brian corrected himself.

            Something was going on here, but Amanda had yet to put her finger on exactly what it was.  She was beginning to realize that he was feeling more than agitated.  He was afraid.  But afraid of what? she asked herself.

            “Alright then, let’s begin.”

            She led Brian through the ritual, relaxing his body one part at a time and bringing his mind into a state of deep relaxation.  As he listened to her voice, he actually found himself become more aware of the moment and less caught dangling between fantasy and reality.

            “Brian, this time I’m going to start counting backwards from eight, and I want you to stop me at the age when you first started having feelings about women’s breasts.  Just nod your head, and then when I talk to you, I’ll be talking to you as you were at that age.  Here we go.  Eight.  Seven.  Six.  Five . . . ”

            Brian nodded.

            “How old are you, Brian?’

            “I’m five.”

            “Where are you?”

            “I’m in the bathtub.”

            “Tell me what’s happening.”

            “I’m having a bath.  I’m sitting and waiting . . .

 

 

14

 

            . . . for my mother.  She always comes and makes sure I got myself really clean.  She’s coming into the bathroom now.  She’s asking me if I’m clean.  I’m telling her I am.  She wants to know if I washed everywhere . . . Oh no.

            What’s wrong, Brian?            

            I told her I was clean, but she doesn’t believe me.  She’s getting down on her knees.  Now she’s reaching under the water, looking for the soap.  She’s taking the facecloth and she’s washing my back.  She’s telling me to lean forward so she can reach.  Now she’s washing my face.  She’s making splashes and her blouse is getting wet.  It was white, but now it’s wet and I can see through it.  I can see her boobs.  They’re really big!  Now she’s telling me to sit up.  She wants to wash my front.  She’s putting soap on my chest and my stomach and then rinsing it off.  Now she’s reaching under the water again.  Her hands are going between my legs to clean my thing.  I can feel her touching me there.  I’m still looking at her boobs.  They’re so big, they’re resting on the side of the bathtub.  Looking at them is making me feel funny.  Her hands are on me . . . on my thing.  I want her to stop, but I’m afraid.  I can’t take my eyes off her boobs.  They look so big and so    . . . I’m clean but she’s still rubbing.

            Brian, what’s happening now?

            I’m having a bath again.  Only this time I’m making lots of bubbles.  If I make lots of bubbles, maybe she won’t see my thing and she’ll forget to clean me there.  Oh oh.  She’s back.  She’s washing my back and my stomach.  Her boobs are on the side of the bathtub again.  I think I shouldn’t look at them, but I can’t help myself.  They look so big and so soft.  I like the way looking at them makes me feel.  It makes me want to rest my head on them.  Now her hand is reaching down under the water, right through the bubbles.  She cleaning me there again . . . touching me there again.  I can’t stop looking at her boobs.  They make me feel good.  They make me feel safe.  I want her to stop touching me, but I don’t want to stop looking at her boobs . . . Oh my!

            Brian?            

            I feel something.  I feel something between my legs!  It feels good . . . but I’m scared.  It tingles.  It makes me feel . . . makes me feel . . . Help!  Help me!  I’m scared!  I feel so . . . HELP ME!

            It’s alright Brian.  You’re safe.  No one can hurt you here.

            (long pause)

            I’m in the bathtub again.  Only this time I wore my bathing suit so she won’t be able to see my thing at all.  If she can’t see it, then she won’t be able to touch it.  Now she’s washing me, washing my back and my face.  She can’t see the rest of me because there’s lots and lots of bubbles.  Now she’s taking the soap and reaching under the water.  Oh no!  She wants to clean me there anyway.  She’s feeling around.  There’s a funny look on her face.  I can feel her hand touching my thing through my bathing suit.  Now she looks really upset.  Her face is all red.  I can’t tell if she’s angry or sad.  She getting up and leaving.  She’s leaving in a hurry.  I don’t think . . .

 

 

15

 

            “ . . . she’s ever coming back!

            “Mommy!  Come back!  I’m sorry.  I’ll take my bathing suit off!  I promise.  Please come back!  You can clean me there!  I won’t mind!  Just please don’t leave me!  Please!  MOMMY!!!

            “Brian, listen to me.  I’m going to count from zero to five and when I do, you will be completely awake.  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.

            Brian opened his eyes.  Dr. Brandt was beside him on the couch in her office, his body held limply against her, his head resting on her bosom.  He felt her arms cradling him.  He had no idea how they got there, nor did he care.  He was trying not to cry, but the tears came anyway.

            “I’m sorry,” he said weakly.

            “Don’t apologize.  It’s alright.  Just relax.”

            He closed his eyes again and let himself feel the softness of Amanda’s bosom against his cheek.  It felt safe and reassuring.  He put his arms around her and pulled her closer, forcing himself deeper into her chest.

            “Brian, I . . . ”

            He squeezed tighter.

            “Brian, I don’t think we should . . . ”

            Amanda stopped in mid-sentence, her mind reeling as those same feelings came over her again: the need to dominate Brian; the desire to see him totally helpless before her; the temptation to use all she knew about him, every intimate detail, to manipulate him and make him hers.  Only this time the feelings were much stronger, much more insistent.  It felt like they had grown stronger since they had visited her last.  Or perhaps it was the feel of Brian’s head pressed against her bosom that was making the urges welling up inside her seem so much hungrier and harder to resist.  She could feel her breasts alive and dangerous, desperately wanting to devour him.  They were like wild animals simply waiting for their master to loosen her hand on their leash and set them free.  She could feel Brian sinking deeper into her soft flesh and knew that soon it would be too late to save him from being swallowed whole.

            Amanda tried to think about the precariousness of her position and everything that was at stake, her career and her reputation, not to mention the emotional damage she could possibly do to Brian by taking advantage of him while in such a vulnerable state.  But instead, she found herself becoming acutely aware of the emptiness of the building around her.  Her mind focused on the same sounds that Brian had been listening to in the waiting room, the hum of the lights and the low howl of the wind outside.  It was late.  Mrs. McNabb had gone for the day.  They were alone.  It would be so easy, with no one around and no fear of interruption.  It would be such a simple thing to take him, right here, right now.  She knew that the skills she had been trained to use for healing could easily be twisted to push Brian so far off balance that he would do anything she wanted, become anything she wanted.  His mind could be played with like a child’s toy.

            Almost as if they could sense what she was thinking, her breasts began to tingle with pleasure, tempting her to give in, urging her to follow through with the thoughts that were floating through her mind.  They were begging her to set them free.  Brian’s head slipped deeper between the huge mounds of her chest and for an instant Amanda thought that it was already too late.  Pleasure flowed through her body, taking advantage of her moment of indecision to tip the scales their way.  The warm tingling radiated from her chest and flowed down through her stomach, working its way deep into her crotch until every inch of her was vibrating.  Her mind was spinning.  The pull was so strong.  The pleasure was so great.

            “Help me.”  The words slipped through Amanda’s lips, no more than a whisper.  She placed her hands on the back of Brian’s head and pressed him even deeper into her chest.  The pleasure that was raging inside her surged again, reaching new heights.

            “Oh God, help me!” she cried out, voicing one last plea to find the strength to fight an urge she had no power to resist.

            It wasn’t the words themselves so much as the desperation of their tone that found its way through to Brian.  He sat back on the couch and looked at Amanda, his expression that of a man who had just awoken from a sleepwalk and had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there.

            “Dr. Brandt?”  Her eyes were red and one lonely tear was slowly making its way down her cheek.  “Are you alright?”

            “I’ll be fine,” she said, her voice quivering.  “I just . . . need a minute.”

            Brian shifted his gaze, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, only to have his eyes jump at the opportunity to return to her chest.  Looking there brought back memories of where he had been only moments ago.  It was as if for a moment he had forgotten, but now he was remembering all too well.  He could feel the firmness of her breasts against his cheek again, the soft texture of her sweater against his skin and the intoxicating scent of her perfume.  The images made his face flush and now he found himself hoping that she wasn’t looking at him.

            “If it’s alright with you, I think we should call it a night,” Amanda said quietly, her voice sounding barely under control.  Brian looked up, but her eyes were still turned away.

            “Sure,” Brian answered, the word sounding foolish, but not knowing what else to say.  “I’ll call Mrs. McNabb about an appointment for next week.”

            “Okay.  Fine.”  Amanda covered her mouth with her hand, clearly trying to hold herself together.

            “Dr. Brandt, is there anything I can . . . ?”

            “No, please.  Just . . . I’ll be fine.”

            Not knowing what else to do, Brian got up and left.  Two hours later Amanda Brandt was still sitting in the same spot and still trying to understand.