Adam drove to the park, blasting music loud to get his frustrations out. After parking, he met Marty who was sitting on a park bench. His friend wasn’t looking to be in the brightest of spirits either.

“What’s up, buddy?” Adam asked, wanting to put aside his own problems momentarily.

“Feeling down. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when school ends. Don’t know if it’s college, or work.” Marty replied.

“Story of the year it seems.” Adam replied. “My parents are driving me crazy. They’re on my ass about my grades. They’re on my ass about college applications. Now my history teacher sent a letter home to them to tell them what I’ve been doing in class.”

Marty was focused on his friend. He could see the nervousness in Adam’s eyes. “You can tell me about it if you want. We’re both in similar boats here and this is a safe place.”

The two boys started to walk laps around the perimeter of the park, kicking a littered Sprite can around as they went.

Adam went on with his story. “I have to be honest; I think I just hate the idea of working. I can’t think of a single career I’d be interested in pursuing. Mom and dad naturally want the very typical high expectations-high grade jobs for me. Engineer, doctor, lawyer. Even these jobs that pay a lot of money aren’t motivating me. The only thing I’m motivated to do is write stories. And that’s what the letter from my teacher was about. Shouting out to them about all the time I’m wasting in class writing stories! It’s one of the only things that keeps me happy, and they all want to take it away from me so I can write down notes about some shit that happened over a hundred years ago!”

Marty, knowing the confusion about not knowing what he was going to do later in life very well looked on with sympathy. “You could try to be a writer, man? If you’re passionate about it, maybe that’s your calling. Write novels, write short stories, write movie scripts. Do something cool with your life. I don’t want to see you stuck working in some boring office somewhere.”

Adam scoffed. “I wish. Few people would want to read my stories.”

“What do you write about?” Marty asked. In his curiosity he only expected that Adam was writing about alien invasions, murder mysteries, tales of war. The kind of stuff that led to blockbuster movies and bestseller novels.

Having already had the uncomfortable taste of exposure that morning, Adam paused and thought to himself for a few minutes. If he couldn’t tell his best friend about his fantasy, who could he tell?

Adam exhaled. “You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone else. People at school already think I’m shy and weird.”

“Oh, no can do. I’ll have to tell all my friends in the popular crowds!” Marty joked, reassuring his friend.

“I’ve got an uncommon sexual kink. And I’ve been writing stories about that. Stories about… being shrunk down really really small. Like… inches tall. Sometimes less. And… being played with by gigantic hot women.”

Marty wasn’t judging. “Yeah, I think I’ve heard of that fetish before. It’s okay, though. It’s harmless and it’s yours to enjoy.”

Seeing that he was truly in a safe place to share, he continued. “And lately I’ve been particularly fixated on the idea of my therapist Cindy being my owner. I have a bit of a crush on her. I’ve felt like that a while now. But she has to be like ten years older than me and isn’t gonna break our client-therapist relationship. So… I’m reclined to my fantasy.”

Marty was never one to judge. He was a nice guy that offered advice when it became clear it was needed, but otherwise respected boundaries. And he saw that this was one of the rare times he’d give advice before someone asked for it. “I think you should make an appointment. As soon as possible. Don’t tell her about having a crush because that will make things awkward. But tell her about the fetish if you haven’t already. Tell her the effect it’s having on your motivation and your grades. Maybe she can point you in the right direction so you can have the best of both worlds. To get good grades and be a writer of erotica.”

Adam thought about it. Maybe it was possible, but he didn’t have a lot of faith in it. “I’ll make an appointment.”

Both boys had been looking at the ground for the last few minutes working this issue out. Then Marty’s eyes widened when he looked up. “Ooooooh shit.” Adam looked up and almost repeated Marty.