Hypnothe-Rapist (special edition)

The only problem was...eventually, at some point, now she had to get up.

***

November 25th, 3:46 p.m.

Thirty minutes later, Dr. Angela Starr had returned from her office's private washroom where she had performed the normal ritual of cleaning herself up, tossing the spare pillow she'd humped to oblivion into the washer, replacing it on the floor with a clean one, and restoring her face from its flushed state. She had subsequently dispensed herself a glass of fresh water, downed it, taken a breath mint, straightened out her nightgown and put her glasses back on, done everything to restore the original picture to which Timothy's memory became accustomed.

Once she had given his penis a light cleaning with a damp cloth and made sure that no trace of his discharge (or hers) had found its way onto his trousers or the bed, she pulled his pants back up, tucked in his genitals, re-fastened them, did a final mental checking of the situation, and decided the time was right to awaken him again. She knelt back down on the fresh pillow, leaned down to his ear and said, "Timothy, your hypnosis is concluded. I am now going to count forwards to ten, and when I reach ten, I will snap my fingers, and you will come out of your trance fully awake."

She started at one, and thirty seconds later, had gotten to ten. She snapped her fingers above his head, audibly this time, and Timothy regained consciousness.

"Arise, Timothy!" she giggled, waving her hands theatrically like a hypnotic David Copperfield, greeting him with her big smile. "You can take off your sleep mask now."

Timothy slowly sat up and his hands unsteadily found the mask and removed it. He blinked several dozen times, rubbing his eyes and trying to refocus everything. Finally, the doctor's face came into clear view again and he noticed her kneeling at his side.

Angela took his hand and shook it vigorously. "Sir, you did wonderfully! Honest, no kidding, things could not have gone better." Her beaming eyes sparkled at him.

"R—...really?" he asked.

She nodded. "How do you feel?"

Still slowly getting his bearings back, Timothy said, "Uh...a little disoriented...and kinda dizzy...but, uh, other than that..." He lightly shook his head and said, "...Pretty good, actually."

Angela felt like blushing again. She couldn't let her smile fade. It was simply indescribable how much she loved her career.

"Aw, that makes me so happy," she said. She then added, "Oh, and rest assured, the dizziness and disorientation are completely normal. They're the result of the activity of your eyes. It's called the REM state: Rapid Eye Movement. It happens when we have our most intense and memorable dreams. That's why sometimes when you wake up, your eyes feel weird, like they've been rolling around your head all over the place. It's just like normally waking up in the morning; it'll just last a few minutes."

He nodded, taking it all in.

"So let me ask you," she said, already knowing the gist of the answer, "Do you feel depressed at all? Can you remember the feelings and effects the depression had on you?"

He thought a moment. He thought for a few more moments. Finally, he returned his gaze to her.

"Y'know, it's weird..." he said, blinking some more. "I can...kind of still remember it, but...all of a sudden it feels...so much less...severe. Like...like I can handle it better now."

Angela nodded, grinning her big lovely grin at him. "I told you you did great, sir." She stood, and offered him her hand to help him up. "Oh, by the way, there's the restroom," she said, gesturing towards it.

Timothy looked back and forth from it to her. "Thanks, but...how did you know I needed to use the restroom?"

"Oh, Timothy, it's been two hours!" she said with a chuckle. "I'd be surprised if you didn't have to."

As he shakily ambled in, Angela quickly mentally congratulated herself, plopping down in her chair, picking up her glasses, pad and pen and scribbling down, "Timothy Jacobs, introductory interview, session one, depression ostensibly linked to sexual repression. Starr Treatment—" next to which she placed an asterisk, "Update progress soon."

A few minutes later, Timothy returned.

"You know what's weird though?" she heard him ask, and turned around to face him.

"What's that?" As if she didn't know exactly what he was about to say.

Timothy made a gesture with his hands that he didn't exactly know how to explain this. "I...it...it didn't really feel that different from just a regular night's sleep, but it seemed like, while it was going on, I was...having this weird dream..."

Her eyebrows rose. "Oh?" she smirked, feigning. "Well, we have got a couple minutes left...want to talk about it?"

It was his eyebrows' turn to raise. "Um..." he turned a little red, feeling sheepish and a bit embarrassed. He clasped his hands together, holding them down over his lower torso, as if to cover himself. "I...dunno."

"Oh, it's okay," she said, adoring his shyness of the whole situation. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. What I'll tell you, though, is that particularly strange and out of the ordinary dreams are not at all uncommon under hypnosis. It's like I told you about the REM state. In fact, believe it or not, it's really fairly normal to have hypnotic dreams with bizarre undertones, be they frightening, disturbing, simplistically nice, unplaceable, or even sexual."

Timothy visibly reddened. "You don't say," he remarked. "Yeah, I mean, actually, for some reason it almost feels like I..."

She waited. "...Yes?"

About to finish, Timothy waved a hand and said, "...Nothing. Never mind."

She shrugged. "Well, okay. So how do you feel about the way the session went?"

He shrugged back. "Well, good," he said. "I mean, like I said, I do feel happier and better now. I don't really know why, but...I..." He let his sentence trail off.

Angela smiled and looked down coyly, feeling herself gleefully melt inside. "Well," she said, "We do seem to have made some good progress this opening session. Now, if you like, you can see Mrs. Saunders outside and she can schedule you a follow-up session for whenever you like, and..." She took a business card and handed it to him. "Here. Feel free to update us, or call me on my cell if we're not in the office—both numbers are on there—to reschedule your appointments at any time, or if you just wanna talk for a minute.

"In the meantime," she continued, "Besides a reasonable bedtime and a good night's sleep, I would recommend you take yourself out a bit more, Timothy. Treat yourself once in a while. Don't go overboard, but just indulge yourself sometimes. Try to meet some friendly people, make some new buddies...maybe find yourself a nice girl." She winked.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Absolutely. And, if you don't happen to meet a woman you like, or vice versa, just remember..." she said, "...And I don't mean to be indelicate here, but, a little bit of...shall we say...'self-love' never hurts either."

Timothy nodded, taking this information in with a certain degree of surprise in his face, it not exactly being the sort of advice he might have anticipated. "It doesn't?"

"Certainly not. While lack of sleep would tend to make just about anyone depressed, satisfactory sexual activity may not affect everybody, but it could hardly put a dampen on your day."

"Well, I...I don't really know what to say..." he said. "I mean, I-I really didn't think I'd feel this..."

"...Relieved?"

He gazed at her in wonder. "...Yeah. Exactly."

She modestly fluttered her eyelashes. "That's what I'm here for, my friend."

"Geez," he said, "Y'know, if I thought it was okay, I'd say I wanted to hug you. But, that's probably not someth—"

Hearing the word, Angela promptly grinned, stood up from her chair and opened her arms, gesturing with her fingers for him to come right into her waiting embrace. "Hug away."

Another moment later, he thanked her, said goodbye and left. Angela sat back down, plugged her phone in, powered it back up, pressed and held down the intercom button and said, "Hi, Paula. Mr. Jacobs is on his way out."

In another moment Paula would ask Timothy if and when he wanted to see the doctor again. Another moment after that, she would return the information to Angela.

"Anybody else?" she asked Paula.

"No, that's it for today," she cheerily replied. "We're done!"

"Awesome!" said Angela. "Wanna go grab a bite?"

"Okay, but only if I get to buy this time."

"Hmm, let me think about that. Oh, all right."

Both packed up their purses, put away all relevant work, turned off the lights, and departed, locking the door behind them.

Just another day in the office of Dr. Angela Starr.