“Ralph?"

                “Are you listening, Ralph?”

                Ralph Carter emerged from a vivid, gripping reverie to find himself ensconced within the tastefully appointed environs of his therapist’s office. He blinked several times, skeptical of the fabric of reality returned, and then focused his gaze on Dr. Johnstone’s attractive face. 

                Shit, what was she saying?

                Dr. Trish Johnstone paused a moment, allowing her client to ‘recalibrate.’ His abnormal mind, she well knew, was prone to wandering. When Ralph seemed to have composed himself, the doctor tucked her right foot behind her left ankle and continued speaking in her patented ‘calm and clinical’ tone.

                “Ralph, you’ve been coming to me for nearly three years now with the hopes of addressing your, ahem, sexual dysfunction, is that right?”

                Ralph could not help observing his therapist’s long, stockinged legs in action, any more than he could keep his eyes off the shiny black high heels Dr. Johnstone had been alternately dangling from one or the other nimble toe since the afternoon’s session began. The therapist’s athletic, well-formed limbs stretched all the way up into a stylish, hip-hugging, burgundy pencil skirt, into which was tucked one of her innumerable, frilly, white blouses—the kind that never quite seemed fully up to the task of containing her large, full breasts.

                “Ahh, yes, doctor, that, ah, sounds about right.”

                Ralph shifted his weight upon his leather, wing-back chair, admonishing himself for the tenth, or eleventh time for ‘getting off track’ and letting Dr. Johnstone down.

                “And do you remember what you said to me during our first session when I asked you what you were hoping to achieve in seeing a therapist?”

                The mid-forties mother of three (who’d maintained her figure, and then some) with a severe chestnut bob and a penchant for tortoiseshell frames, leaned forward towards her client.

                Ralphs’ reply tumbled clumsily from his mouth:

                “Yeah, I uh, said I wanted help with my—”

                “—You said—”

                The doctor’s sudden interjection cut Ralph off like a maniac in rush hour traffic.

                “—Dr. Johnstone: I just want to stop fantasizing about being dominated by 400-foot-tall giant women. Please help me to understand why I get off on imaging them crushing and devouring me!”

                “Giantess.”

                Ralph mumbled the correction under his breath while he eyed the fetching raised mole just above the corner of Dr. Johnstone’s sensual mouth. Her lips were painted a bright, sports car red. For a fleeting moment, Ralph imagined what it might be like to be that mole.

                “What’s that?”

                The therapist almost, but not quite, revealed a hint of annoyance in her voice.

                “Giantess.”

                Ralph cleared his throat and spoke up.

                "When they’re women they’re called giantess.”

                “Is that right?”

                Dr. Johnstone pressed her red lips together while she jotted something on her notepad. She then took a moment for one of her frequent ‘micro-breaks’ from her rather unusual patient, gazing over Ralph’s head towards a beam of pleasing sunlight pouring in through the parted vertical blinds.

                “Ralph, do you believe you’ve made reasonable progress towards your mental and sexual health goals in our time together?”

                Ralph was finding Dr. Johnstone’s movements and body language fascinating, yet incomprehensible. As he watched, she next rested the non-business end of her fancy-looking pen upon the bottom row of her aggressively-whitened teeth, then prodding it with the very tip of her pink, shiny tongue. Now Ralph wanted to be the pen.

                “Ahh, yeah, I-I would say—”

                This time Ralph sensed the cut-in and braced himself.

                “—Tell me something Ralph, and be honest..."

                A quality crept into Dr. Johnstone’s voice which he’d never before detected. She set her pen down atop the legal pad in her lap and steepled her elegant, French-manicured fingers together.

                “Of course.”

                Ralph scratched at his right forearm and formed his own mouth into a smile as he squirmed beneath Dr. Johnstone’s gaze. He was suddenly aware that the backs of his knees were sweaty.

                “You were just staring at my feet a moment ago, weren’t you?”

                The doctor’s tone remained calm and clinical, but an assertiveness had bled in.

                “Dr. Johnstone, no I, ah—”

                Ralph shifted his weight again, attempting to relieve some of the in-trouser pressure that had formed around his semi-hard penis (while trying to appear as though he were accomplishing other, more innocent comfort-aims). He had indeed been staring at the therapist’s irresistible feet. He’d been obsessed with them since the day of their first session and despite Ralph’s best efforts, the doctor had come to feature prominently in his outsized sexual fantasies.

                Undeterred, the therapist cut her client off a third time...

                 “—You were staring at my feet, Ralph, and imaging I was one of your giantess women and that I was going to crush you like a little bug underneath my pumps, isn’t that right?”

                 Dr. Johnstone’s eyes bore into Ralph’s, challenging them to drop. They quickly surrendered.

                “N-no, Dr. Johnstone, I, was just, ah…ok, ok, yes.”

                Ralph emitted a long, defeated sigh and wondered for half a second whether he was about to start crying. It had happened before. He composed himself and pressed on with a shaky voice...

                “I was doing and thinking those things you just said…I’m sorry, y-you deserve more than that Dr. Johnstone. I know you didn’t earn all those fancy degrees on your wall just to be objectified by some pervert like me.”

                Ralph’s confession, apology, and appeasement alike were strained through his own laced fingers, in which he’d buried his face as he spoke. Dr. Johnstone waited for her patient to raise his head (only to stare at a “safe” area of floor, far from where her feet rested) before she continued.

                “Ralph, listen. This is not something I’d ordinarily recommend to my patients, but after three years together, your…struggle with these deviant sexual urges still seems to me to be uniquely, let’s say, intractable, wouldn’t you agree?”

                “Uh, I guess so.”

                 I’d like to be that little bug she mentioned, Ralph thought, so that I can slink out of here and go crawl into some hole.

                Dr. Johnstone set her notepad and pen aside. She stood up and began a slow, perplexing circuit around Ralph’s chair. The click-clack of her shiny black pumps was particularly pronounced on the buffed hardwood floor. When she’d completed a full 360i0; loop, the therapist stood over Ralph with her hands on her hourglass hips.

                “I’d like to try something a little unorthodox...”

                Suddenly, the doctor leaned in close and placed her red lips right next to Ralph’s ear. Ralph could smell Dr. Johnstone’s perfume (something floral) and feel her hot breath moistening his earlobe. Her heaving bosom was nearer to him than it had ever been—it seemed to give off heat like an engine.

                Dr. Johnstone’s next words came out in a low, husky whisper...

                "I’m going to shrink you down to about one and half inches tall and then I’m going to taunt and humiliate you before crushing you savagely beneath my heels.”

                “Dr. Johnstone, I, uh…wait what?”

                read the full story here:

https://www.amazon.com/author/macrfilefiction