be my friend w books

The therapist looked up from her notes and smiled warmly.

To Glynda, it always seemed a little too warm, a little too practiced.

Without waiting for an invitation, Glynda crossed the room and dropped onto the familiar couch. She already knew how the session would go. Questions about her sleep followed by more about her emotions. And about the "incident."

As though talking about it enough times would somehow rewind the last month. She still couldn't believe the department had made counseling mandatory. One malfunction during an operation. And suddenly everyone insisted she needed professional supervision.

Ridiculous.

"Welcome, Glynda."

Doctor Leyswell folded her hands neatly in her lap.

"I hope the last week hasn't been too difficult for you." Her voice carried the same calm cadence it always did.

Glynda shivered. She hated that. Nothing about the woman was threatening. Yet every appointment left Glynda feeling strangely lighter. As though she'd forgotten something important by the time she walked back out the door.

"It's been a strange one, Doc."

She leaned back against the couch, crossing one leg over the other. Only then did she notice the outfit she was wearing.

Again.

A fitted blouse. A narrow pencil skirt. Dark pantyhose. High pumps with an heel that made her hips roll and behind swing.

She frowned. "I hate these clothes."

Doctor Leyswell merely nodded. "And yet you've worn similar outfits to every session."

"I know." The admission irritated her. "I threw half my wardrobe into storage three weeks ago because I couldn't stand looking at it anymore."

"So why are you wearing this?"

Glynda opened her mouth.

Closed it.

She honestly didn't know.

Every morning she intended to wear jeans or cargo pants. Something comfortable. Instead she'd find herself standing in front of the closet, reaching automatically for another blouse. Another skirt. Another pair of heels.

It made no sense.

"I don't remember choosing them."

The words hung in the air.

Doctor Leyswell made another neat note in her notebook.

"Anything else unusual?"

Glynda laughed once. A humorless sound. "Hours keep disappearing."

"Disappearing?"

"I'll sit down to answer one email." She rubbed her forehead. "Then suddenly it's evening."

Another pause.

"I find receipts for things I don't remember buying." She looked toward the coat rack near the door. "There are dresses in my closet I'd swear I've never seen before."

She glanced down at her chest.

The blouse was tight, especially at the buttons. Her breasts swelled up beneath the neckline, the inner curves barely concealed by the narrow V. Her breath caught in her throat and her cheeks warmed as she remembered the lingerie beneath.

The black lace bra was a half-size too small, creating a line of over spill at the edge of the cups. The matching thong cut tight beneath her skirt, the thin strip riding high up the crevice of her ass. Her nipples hardened at the thought. Just a bit of pressure and they'd rub right against the lace. A constant, gentle reminder that they'd tightened.

Doctor Leyswell's smile widened a fraction.

"You look lovely."

"Thanks," Glynda said automatically, her own cheeks darkening another shade.

Doctor Leyswell continued, seemingly unaware of her state. "But it sounds as though these last few weeks haven't been entirely comfortable."

"Is anyone comfortable in this city anymore?"

The therapist laughed, a light sound that somehow reminded her of birds.

"Perhaps not." She leaned forward slightly, placing her chin in one palm. "But that's why you're here. So that we can try to get you comfortable again."

Comfortable, she thought. She didn't feel uncomfortable.

She shifted slightly, trying to ignore the way her panties pulled against her.

Uncomfortable was definitely not the word.

"And looking at you, I think our sessions are working," the therapist said.

"Are they?" She couldn't keep the frustration out of her voice.

Doctor Leyswell glanced down at her notes. "Last session, we discussed some of your thoughts about what happened in the incident." Her tone softened. "Do you feel ready to go over those ideas again?"

Glynda's frown returned. "If we must."

She hated talking about it, hated remembering what she'd been thinking in that moment.

"Well. We could continue your hypno-therapy. I know you just love to drop for me," Doctor Leyswell cooed, and her smile took on a teasing edge.

Glynda swallowed, her heart skipping. "I--" She wasn't sure why she was suddenly so flustered. "I don't think I do, actually."

The therapist laughed softly.

"Oh, but you always seem so relaxed when we start," Doctor Leyswell replied. "You even wear those pretty outfits. And you're always such a good listener for me. I thought we had established that you don't need to think about trance, Glynda. All you need to do, is drop."

Glynda blinked, trying to focus.

The room felt suddenly warm. Her blouse seemed even tighter than it had moments ago. The fabric clung to her chest, emphasizing every movement.

"I guess we did," she admitted. She could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. Her skin tingled with every word. "I'm not sure how much more comfortable I want to be." The words were meant to be sarcastic but her voice had gone soft, breathless. Needy.

The therapist simply watched her. "That's why you need to listen, Glynda. You don't know even such a simple thing. You aren't very good at making decisions. But you can drop deeper." She leaned forward, smiling reassuringly. "So you'll be a good girl and go under, now."

Glynda opened her mouth. To argue? She didn't know. Her eyes locked on the doctor's and her thoughts scattered. Something about those eyes. Deep, rich pools, darker than the shadows of the room.

The doctor continued to speak in that slow, easy tone of hers.

"Glynda, you want to drop. Drop. Drop. Drop." The words were like the steady tap of a drum. Each beat reverberated through Glynda, sending ripples across the surface of her thoughts. "It feels good to drop. It's easy to drop."

Doctor Leyswell smiled wider and tapped her pen in front of Glynda, making sure that her eyes followed the tip.

Her voice remained smooth and soothing, each word sinking deeper and deeper into the fog of Glynda's mind.

Glynda's eyes glazed over. "Drop, drop, drop." She couldn't remember what she'd been about to say. She knew there was a reason she shouldn't want this. Her tongue peeked out from her lips as her eyes began to roll up. Her breath came faster.

Doctor Leyswell continued the pattern. Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Go under, now," Doctor Leyswell murmured, her lips curved up in a smile that held nothing of a doctor's care, but was rather predatory and self-assured.

Glynda felt her thoughts fall away, yet something kept listening to Doctor Leyswell. "Drop down now. Drop, drop, drop." Glynda sank deep into the trance, the rhythm of the tapping lulling her mind and body into submission. Her breathing slowed. Her limbs went slack.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Under, now," Doctor Leyswell murmured again, her eyes gleaming.

"Deeper and deeper," she crooned. The pen stopped tapping, instead drawing a long line through the air.

"Good girl." Her voice was a velvet purr, wrapping around Glynda's mind, binding her tighter. "That's it. Let's put boring Glynda into her box. And let Glim-Glam out."

The last threads holding Glynda up slipped free. She sank deep into her mind, letting her thoughts scatter to the corners of the world.

Glim-Glam stretched languidly in her seat, enjoying the soft leather beneath her body and the feel of the silky, lacy underwear that caressed her body. Her skirt was riding high up on her thigh, exposing the pantyhose.

A sigh escaped her as she looked at the therapist with a dazed, content smile.

"Hi!" Glim-Glam chirped. She knew the doctor had been talking for a while, but it hadn't really mattered until a moment ago.

Doctor Leyswell leaned forward, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly.

"Good morning, Glim-Glam."

Her voice was light, almost teasing, and the name made her feel tingly all over. She wiggled her behind on the seat and shivered in delight as the lace brushed up against the lips of her sex, making them throb and ache with need.

"How is my horny whore," she continued.

The word made her tremble and she smiled. Her nipples hardened beneath her shirt as a wet heat grew between her thighs.

"Horny." Her tongue peeked out, running across the edge of her lower lip.

Doctor Leyswell nodded. "Good girl."

Her gaze lingered on her body for a moment before drifting toward the clock.

"We're almost done with today's session." She glanced back, eyes bright. "But I'd like to give you some new instructions to take into the rest of your day. Glynda is far too suspicious for my liking, but you can help with that."

She paused, considering something, before nodding to herself. "Now. As you know, I have your best interest in mind, don't I? I want you to be a happy little slut, and you know that. And so I think it's time for my little whore to earn her keep. What do you think?"

Glim-Glam's head bobbed up and down.

"That's good. I don't want you to start with something to strenuous. So you will look for a nice cunt to eat at least once a day. And every time Glynda asks herself why or what, you fill her mind with the memories of your whore adventures. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Eat cunt. Fill her mind," she repeated, the words rolling off her tongue as though they were sweet nectar, the obscenity making her skin flush and her breathing quicken.

Doctor Leyswell made another note before setting the pen down. When she looked up, she was smiling broadly. A cat that had caught the mouse.

"Excellent. Now, Glim-Glam, why don't you get beneath my desk. There is a wet pussy waiting for you," she purred.

Glim-Glam shuddered with pleasure, licking her lips hungrily.