Fantasy #17: Therapy Gone Right

Fantasies are hot.

I have a bunch.

Here’s one…

“Good afternoon, Mr. X, how are you? Good? Great! Let’s have you sit down in the chair, comfortable isn’t it? I’ll be with you in just one moment, I have to read through the notes your last psychologist sent me. Hhmmm…” He asked, His voice deep and powerful, putting you at ease and somehow making you safe.

He was a gorgeous man in a gorgeous black suit that fit Him like a glove. His hair was dark brown and short, combed to the right. His face was bright and jovial, though you could glimpse something much more serious, much darker hidden underneath. His beard was neat and trimmed, giving Him an aura of wisdom and respectability that you could only ever dream about. Every now and then you caught a peek of His watch as it shone in the light of the afternoon.

“I think I have the gist of it but I always find it best for my patients to tell me their problems themselves. So Mr. X, what have you come to see me? Why, in your own words, do you need to see a psychologist?”

You cleared your throat before answering: “Well, I am quite unhappy with my life, and by any rational measure, I should be more than satisfied. I started and run my own business in finances, which employs over one thousand people. I make more money than I know what to do with, I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. I’ve partied with movie stars, been to every beautiful place on the Earth. I’ve eaten the most exquisite meals prepared by the greatest chefs, I’ve sipped the best alcohols and partaken in every drug that I’ve wanted to. I spoil my entire family to no ends, making sure they can all have a taste of the good life that I live every day. My garage is filled with every car I’ve dreamed of owning and many that I never did.

And yet, I am unhappy.

As you’ve seen, there is nothing wrong with my brain neurologically speaking and anti-depressants seem to not be of much help. I’m here to see you, Dr. Fisher, because you come highly recommended in the world of bored rich men. Please, Dr., help me.”

He’d been listening to you, notepad on His lap, one ankle resting over the opposite knee, fingers interlaced and forming a steeple. For one moment, you caught the glimpse of something on His face, something… devilish, but it was gone in the blink of an eye.

“Well, Mr. X, you’ve certainly come to the right place. I am quite good at dealing with this kind of problem. I already have an idea of what it is that you are actually suffering from. You aren’t suffering from depression or unhappiness, you are suffering from a lack of suffering. You are, to put it mildly, bored of life. Your every desire is accounted for, your every whim satisfied.

Humans have not evolved for the modern way of life, much less the lavish lifestyle of someone as successful as you are. We evolved in horrible conditions, adapting to every shitty thing that was thrown our way if you’ll pardon my language. We are happiest when we overcome those problems. When we make things better, we improve the lives of those we find dear. By the sounds of it, you stopped achieving long ago and you stopped struggling long before that.

Much like how a parent can spoil his or her child through too many gifts, you have spoiled yourself. What you need now, is some hard discipline, some imposed and controlled chaos so that you may reset yourself. You need to be broken and remade in the fires of oppression. You need to be forced to walk on all fours so that you can stand tall and proud, once again. You need to suffer so that your current suffering might finally end.

How does that sound so far?”

You’d been listening to Him speak in that powerful tone of voice of His, incredulous at first, but as He went on, it sounded more and more like the truth. By the end of it, you felt as though some god had been telling you the secrets of your very own soul. Where every other therapist you’d seen had wanted to pamper and coddle you more, He spoke of destroying you, of making you suffer so that you could become better, improved, happy.

You cleared your throat once again before you could answer Him: “I… that sounds exactly like what I need. Tell me, how can I do that, how I can be reshaped and reforged. Tell me how I can be happy again…”

He laughed: “I was beginning to think you’d never ask. The American Psychological Association frowns on such diagnosis as I give and they are particularly vocal about the kind of unethical solution I am going to propose to you, but I know it works. If it didn’t work, you wouldn’t have heard of me in whispered conversation. I own a large manor in the countryside, a beautiful Victorian estate that houses a large number of people at any given time. I collect there all manner of lost souls and people seeking a way to be happy again. There, I am master and dictator. I lose the congenial attitude you see now and let the devil in me out. If you are to join me there, you will be humiliated, you will be made to do hard labor and even harder debauchery. You will be treated like scum. You will be made to live uncomfortably and in that discomfort, you will solace. You will learn to please me, and by pleasing me, to please yourself. How does that sound so far?”

Your eyes were open and huge. You’d never heard of such a crazed thing, of people choosing to submit themselves willingly, of consenting to suffer. It was such an irrational thing to want to do, and yet a part of you wanted to say yes immediately. Being a man of discipline, you asked a question, partly so that you wouldn’t immediately cave into His offer: “So, if I understand you correctly, you want me to become your slave? Now why on Earth would I do something like that?”

His expression changed, amused as though your question was some sort of lame joke: “Well for starters, it works. I started with but a single slave many years ago and now my harem has over twenty men and women committed to serving me permanently, and many more who come in and come out as their moods require. Mankind has always worked with leaders and followers. I am a born leader and you, despite your many accomplishments, are a born follower. I can smell it on you as surely as I can smell an unwashed homeless person. You want to be led just as much as I want to lead. You want to live through suffering just as much as I want to make you suffer.

Oh, and to join, you would have to part with a good amount of your current assets. Not all of them, you will get to keep more than enough so that if you ever choose to leave, you can still live. As with most things in life, you must first give up something to gain something else. In this case, you will be giving up a lot of the money that you have earned.”

He stared at you and it felt like He was staring into your very soul. You knew what He had just proposed to you was pure and utter madness, yet every part of you wanted to say yes, wanted to do whatever it is He told you to do. It was weird to feel so possessed, so overcome so quickly. You had entered as a master of your own domain, a powerful CEO. Now you knew that you would be leaving as something much less, as someone under someone else’s control. And you were craving it with every last part of your being…

“So how do we begin, then?” you asked in a tone of voice that was quickly losing the bravado it had when you’d entered.

He got up from his armchair and fetched some papers from his desk. He threw the papers on your lap and tossed a pen your way.

“Sign on the dotted line and you will be be mine to reshape, mine to control, mine to transform,” He answered, his features bright with hellish delight.

You were only too happy to comply. What you didn’t know yet was just what you were getting yourself into, yet you knew you wanted it more than anything else you’d ever wanted in your life. What you didn’t know yet was just how true to His word He was going to prove to be…

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