More Gross Therapist Brainrot. Im Thinking Abt Going To See A Therapist For My Dysphoria. He's A Cis

more gross therapist brainrot. im thinking abt going to see a therapist for my dysphoria. he's a cis man and i'm nervous at first but he's so friendly and knows all the terminology and i begin to relax. he asks for more details and i start to tell him about how dysphoric my chest makes me. "sorry," he interrupts. "are you binding right now? your chest looks very flat to me."

i get embarrassed and blush. "oh yeah, i have a binder on."

"i see. so are they big without the binder? some cis men have fat on their chests, so maybe it's not actually that noticeable."

"um, yeah, they're pretty big...definitely noticeable i think."

"hm. i'm having trouble picturing it. maybe i could turn around and you could take off your binder? and put your shirt back on after, of course. it will help me understand your point of view. plus, i'm sure your back is sore, and it's just the two of us in here."

i'm very uncomfortable with this idea, but he is my therapist, so he must know what he's doing. "are you sure? is that something you usually do with your clients?"

"oh yes, this is all standard practice. go ahead! i'll turn around and close my eyes."

he stands up and turns to face the wall, holding his hand in front of his eyes. i acquiesce, taking off my binder and putting it to the side, letting my huge tits bounce free. my nipples immediately harden from the cold and the sensation of fabric brushing over them.

when i have my shirt back on i say, "o-okay, you can turn around now." he sits back down and stares openly at my chest. my face heats up.

"yes, i see, those are quite large." he notices my face turning red. "please, don't be embarrassed. they are also quite nicely shaped, if i may say so." before i can voice an objection, he continues: "i think we should try an exercise that often helps with my ftm clients' dysphoria. sometimes it can be helpful to appreciate your features instead of trying to hide them. after all, this is therapy, so we want to deal with things directly instead of avoiding them."

that does make sense to me, despite the twisting in my gut. "okay. i guess so."

"very good. now please close your eyes for me." i obey. "it may seem strange, but i am a professional and there's nothing to be ashamed of in here. now bring your hands to your breasts and hold one in each palm." at least my eyes are closed so i don't have to look at him while i do as he says. "excellent. slowly massage your breasts, kneading the flesh, but not too hard. we want this to be pleasurable." i start to do it, resenting the feeling of warmth in my crotch. "now rub your thumbs over your nipples. i see they're starting to harden. that's perfectly natural. concentrate on how good it feels to rub your breasts. you may even pinch your nipples if that is enjoyable for you." i do it despite myself, lost in the sensation. "keep going. do it for a minute, and don't stop thinking about the pleasure you're feeling." i'm still feeling dysphoric, but now i'm also turned on. i squirm a little in my seat, hoping it's not too noticeable.

"okay, you can stop now. open your eyes." i take my hands away from my tits, my nipples still hard, poking through the fabric. "how is your dysphoria now? any change?"

"uh, no. sorry."

"no need to apologize. sounds like we'll need to try another exercise. we really want to associate your chest with positive feelings instead of negative ones. so for this exercise, i want you to stand up and remove your shirt."

i balk at the request. "is that really necessary?"

his expression hardens. "please don't make this difficult. we're all adults here. do you want to get treatment for your dysphoria or not?"

i'm embarrassed. he's a doctor after all, why would i question his judgement? i'm probably just being prudish and immature. "sorry. yes, i do." i get up off the couch and take my shirt off, instinctively folding my arms in front of my chest.

"very good. arms behind your back, please." i obey. "now, stay in that position and close your eyes." when my eyes are closed i hear a drawer opening, then the flicking of a cap of some kind. i can feel my nipples stiffening in the air. the next thing i know, he's grabbing my breasts, rubbing something cold and wet on to my nipples. i gasp. "stay still, please. this is all part of the treatment." he runs his hands all over my tits, groping them, getting them all covered in what i assume is lube. he pinches my nipples and i bite my lip to stifle a moan. "very good. you may open your eyes now. i want you to look down at your breasts."

they're glistening and bouncing in his hands, covered in oil. "see how gorgeous they are? a lot of girls would love to have such beautiful big tits." his crude language catches me off guard.

"um, what?"

"i just want you to appreciate what you have. a little gratitude can go a long way." he jiggles my tits up and down. "i love looking at them bounce. see how happy these can make other people? it should make you feel good to know how pleasing these are to men. you need to look outside your self-centered perspective."

"doctor, i'm not very comfortable with this--"

"no?" without warning he sticks his hand under my waistband and rubs my clit, running a finger through my wetness. "it seems like your pussy is very comfortable. and your tits are so sensitive. see how good they can make you feel?" with his other hand he pinches my nipple again and this time i fail to stop myself from whimpering. "i knew you loved this. now watch me enjoy your tits for a bit. it will help you feel better about them."

i'm too shocked and turned on to do anything other than watch silently as he plays with my tits, groping them hard, massing them like putty, circling my nipples with his fingers. eventually he bends down and licks my nipple and i shudder in unwanted pleasure. then he sucks on it in earnest and i can't help but whine. he's right, it feels so good. i let him suck on them both, flicking my nipple with his tongue. then he pushes them together and spits on them. the spit tuns obscenely down my cleavage.

"take off all your clothes. i know exactly how to help you." at this point i'm too far gone not to do exactly as he tells me. i strip. when i'm done he's sitting back in his armchair, massaging his cock, his pants discarded although his shirt and tie are still on, which makes me burn with shame and arousal. "come sit on this and face me. i can make you feel so good."

i look at the floor in embarrassment as i walk over, climbing into his lap. i position myself over his erect cock. "there you go. just slide down onto it. you're all wet for me." i sink slowly onto his cock and moan. it feels so good inside me, filling me up. right as i get him all the way inside me, he says, "good girl."

"w-what?"

"oh, don't pretend it doesn't turn you on. i knew when you walked in that you weren't really a 'boy', just a slutty girl who needed some male attention. and i'm happy to give it to you. if you just showed off your tits more you'd be much happier."

i'm so humiliated i don't know what to say. he grabs me by the waist and starts fucking me up and down on his cock. "that's a good girl. i can feel how your pussy clenches around me when i say it. fuck, look at your big tits bouncing while i fuck you." he starts sucking and biting them. "tell me how much you love my cock."

"i love your cock," i moan, defeated. my voice hitches as he pounds into me.

"tell me you're a slutty girl who loves having her pussy fucked."

"n-no, please..."

he bites down hard on my tit. "say it."

"ugh, fuck..." his cock feels sooo good. "i'm a slutty girl who loves having her pussy fucked," i cry, and as i do he finishes inside me.

"good girl."