You sat on a wooden chair in a fairly cramped room. The carpet was grey as well as the walls. You are very nervous about all of this. For as long as you could remember you had a fetish. A very strange one. You wanted to be shrunken down and used, abused and possibly killed. You loved the idea of a powerful woman telling you what to do and having her way with you. But, enough was enough. You wanted to get rid of this horrible obsession. It’s starting to affect your life. It was all you could ever think about. You never told anyone about it but it’s always been a part of you. You searched online for an open and understanding therapist. Someone who could understand what you were going through and help you get over it. Dr. Emma Tompkins was highly rated and affordable. If anyone could help you, it was her.
“Andy?” You are taken out of your thoughts as the receptionist calls to you. Despite her saying your name wrong you are the only one here so she must be talking to you.
“Um, Anthony. I’m here” you say as you stand up and approach her desk. She’s a woman in her 20’s with short red hair and large glasses. She is currently chewing a piece of gum and somewhat loudly at that.
“Oh, sorry hun.” She says. “The Doctor will see you now. Just go right in through that door.” She smiles and motions to the door on the left with her eyes.
“Thank you.” You reply, somewhat sheepishly. You make my way to the door. Your heart is beating slightly faster. You’re so nervous as you reach for the nob you pause. Should you even be here? Maybe you could just leave now before you embarrassed yourself. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe-
“She doesn’t have all day, sweetie. You’ll need to head in now or comeback another day.” The therapist exclaims. You look back at her and give a nod before twisting the nob and heading inside. The room is fairly nice being very clean and organized. There is a couch on the left side of the room and a desk across from the entrance. A closet just behind and to the right of the desk and a book shelf on the opposite side of the office from the couch.
“Hello,” you say in a soft voice “my name is Anthony. I have an appointment.” There at the desk a woman is sitting, writing something. She is wearing business suit and has black high heels on. She has short blonde hair with ruby red lipstick and finger nails. You can only assume her toenails look the same. She appears to be somewhere between her late 30’s and mid 40’s
“Oh, welcome! I was expecting you. Please, have a seat.” She motions her hand to the couch next to her where you sit down. She gives you a toothy grin. “As you probably know I’m Dr. Emma Tompkins. I’ve been working with people and their problems for nearly 15 years now. So, I know what I’m doing.” She says with a laugh. You give a polite laugh back as you rub your hands in your legs. “Are you uncomfortable? Oh, that’s ok. This is a safe place. You can tell me whatever you like and I can assure you I won’t judge.” Her words are reassuring and you try to relax. You let out a deep breath and try to get your words together.
“Thank you. I came to you because I have an obsession of sorts. Something that has been filling my mind and it’s embarrassing” you say as she looks at you with intent. “Well, it’s a um…fetish” her demeanor doesn’t change with your words. She really must hear stories like this all the time.
“And what kind of fetish would this be?” She asks
“It’s um…well it’s a shrinking fetish.” You look at the ground avoiding eye contact as the words leave your mouth. The doctor leans back in her seat and begins writing down.
“A shrinking fetish…could you elaborate on that?” She asks
“Of course” you reply, taking another deep breathe. “I want to be around a few inches tall around woman. I often dream of being treated like less than a human. I want to be stepped on. Sat on. Crushed, smushed, eaten, swallowed I mean. The list goes on.” The more you talk the more your words just pour out of your mouth. “I want to be a toy, a pet, a bug. Really anything small and insignificant.” You look up at her to gauge a reaction. She appears calm and unphased by your words.
“Does this fetish apply to any woman you meet?” She asks, twirling her pen around in between her fingers. You’re almost mesmerized by it and forget to answer. “Well?” She asks again.
“I guess so, yeah. Pretty much most women I see I tend to fantasize about. It just sort of happens.”
“Would I be correct in saying you thought of me when you entered this room.” Your face turns a light pink with her words. Of course you were thinking about her. She was beautiful. You give her a nod and she writes something down on a piece of paper. You try to read her facial expression but it’s almost impossible. One second she’ll be happy and smiling and the next she feels cold and calculating. You start to look her over and imagine all the places you’d like to be small on her body before she snaps you back to reality her words
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