Therapy With No Ulterior Motives Whatsoever Shrunken First Semester chapter 6 by NearAndFarOut and maximally

"Okay," Mary said, "I'll go to your office for therapy and all that. Right after I head back home, shower and change—"

 

"I would advise against that," Riya said, shaking her head. "In fact, I insist."

 

"What? Why? I'm so gross right now!"

 

Max could not agree more. Mary's vinyl shorts were so tight that the airflow in this wretched crevice was minimal. As time crawled by, the blasted odor from her bowels had hardly lessened. He felt like a perverse cross between a trench soldier and a sommelier: suffocated by chemical weapons while forced to notice every subtle nuance of the gas.

 

"Are you feeling physically distressed, Mary dear? Or are you anxious about being seen as unclean by others?"

 

"What does that matter!" Mary-Grace stomped her foot and Max felt the firm flesh rippling all around him. "If I'm anxious, that feels plenty physical!"

 

"Very true! Please walk with me, Mary." With Riya's arm around her waist, nudging her forward, she was not prepared to say no. "The counseling center is much closer than House Fortuna, and it has a private washroom for you to use. I may not have a suitable change of clothes, but those can be easily fetched."

 

Mary-Grace followed her lead, all the way to the hallway outside Riya's office. The professor sighed and gently rubbed the small of her student's back.

 

"We can go ahead and have you wash up, my dear. However, I'd really like to speak with you right now, in this unpolished state. I worry about you putting on a mask, if I let you go."

 

Mary's posture stiffened, her cheeks clamping down on Max. "N— No, professor! I'm not a liar, and I don't want to be anything but upfront with you."

 

Chuckling, Riya gave her student a firm side-hug. "I don't doubt that, Mary! Sometimes we put up a false front without meaning to, however. I see that so often with young women, retreating to the restroom to reestablish a more normative persona."

 

Mary-Grace opened her mouth to argue more, then threw up her hands in surrender. "I, um, okay. Let's talk now."

 

To Max, it was plain as day that Mary-Grace was conflicted. Her hips swayed nervously as they entered the office, grinding her day-old sweat into his body. He suspected that Professor Chandra was also attuned to her student's stress, but she didn't sound the least bit worried.

 

"Excellent! Come, sit down, and we can unpack what's been bothering you." Riya brought Mary into her office with a touch of warmth, generosity, and almost imperceptible hunger.

 

---

 

Flouncing, Mary-Grace collapsed onto the chaise longue. This abrupt drop barely budged Max, a testament to how tightly he was pressed against her taint.

 

"I'm a monster. What else is there to say?" Mary's voice was flat and unexpressive, a stark departure from her usual cheery delivery.

 

"Well, my dear, I am shocked to hear I've been sharing my lecture hall with a monster for all these weeks! Truly I'm a poor judge of character." Riya quirked an eyebrow.

 

Mary scoffed. "Of course I can be a good girl when everyone is watching: that part's easy. Only when I'm alone, I get all gross, you know."

 

"Is it easy?" Riya leaned forward intently. "A little while ago, you were quite upset by me seeing you farting. You wanted to hide an essential biological function from the people around you, which must be exhausting."

 

"What?" Mary-Grace stared at the wall and laughed in a very stilted fashion. "I was, umm... I didn't need to hide it, at all. Just a little embarrassed! It's no big deal, and not really why I'm here anyway, right?"

 

"So it wouldn't bother you if your esteemed professor farted in front of you? No big deal." Riya's tone was both gentle and smug.

 

"Uhhh? Sure, whatever. Mhm!" Mary affected a casual tone, but couldn't stop her hands from fidgeting.

 

Much too insulated by Mary-Grace's own odor, Max didn't catch a whiff of the bomb that Professor Chandra dropped. He heard it though, loud and proud.

 

"I can see you're uncomfortable, my dear, somewhat disgusted even." Riya raised her hand preemptively. "Don't deny it! I'm not bothered by such reactions.

 

"Do you know why? I wasn't born shameless: when I was younger, I was much like you. I had to learn to trust my own body, with the help of several kind teachers."

 

Mary-Grace squirmed in her seat, not daring to look Riya in the eye.

 

After a moment of quiet, the professor smiled and said, "Tell me, Mary, are you acquainted with Bella Hart?"

 

The first-year girl laughed, pleased by the apparent non sequitur. "Bella is the queen bee of Fortuna, of course I know her!"

 

"Bella has a brilliant mind, even if she rarely applies that mind to her studies. We've had some excellent dinner conversation at my home."

 

As she spoke, Riya rose up and sauntered over to the couch. "You are also quite welcome to come over, my dear! Fair warning: a few meals with the Chandras aren't enough to give you the same physique as dear Bella. Alas."

 

She patted her student's slim midriff with affection. Riya's warm hand lingered on the bare skin, until Mary-Grace began to flinch away.

 

"Oh!" Mary squeaked, as a stress fart squeaked onto Max's face. "I would love that, thank you so much!"

 

Riya nodded kindly, and continued her train of thought. "Bella is also a lesbian, as you may be aware? She isn't shy about it, not one bit."

 

"Um, yes." Mary coughed. "I know."

 

"And you wouldn't say she's a monster?"

 

"Of course not!" Mary-Grace suddenly sat upright, smushing her tiny captive into the couch cushion. "Bella is great! Like, really really incredible. I'm not homophobic, by the way, I have a ton of gay followers on my profiles."

 

"I wasn't suggesting anything like that, my dear!" Riya squeezed Mary's shoulder. "It was merely a rhetorical example: a young woman finding success and happiness, despite many attempts to shame her."

 

Relieved, Mary slumped back down on the couch. "Ahh, sure! Kind of weird and specific and irrelevant, but sure."

 

---

 

Max had been gratified to learn about the Bechdel test in his first college English course. As a guy who spent most of his adolescence living with intense and domineering women, finally he had a simple explanation for why female characters in fiction often felt so bland and unrealistic.

 

Now he was stuck in a perverse inversion of the Bechdel test. How long could two women talk without noticing the man crammed into one of their cracks? Quite a while, it turns out. Max couldn't even take a nap; first Riya would say or do something flirtatious, then Mary-Grace's dick would stiffen in a totally heterosexual manner, shaking him awake; rinse, repeat.

 

"I'd like you try a small thought experiment, Mary dear." Riya announced, after a lull in conversation.

 

By this point the would-be therapist had given up all professional pretense, sitting snugly beside her patient on the couch. Riya was close enough to run her hand along Mary's back, even close enough for her own spicy emissions to filter through the tight vinyl shorts that Max was trapped inside.

 

"Hit me," Mary-Grace murmured.

 

"Imagine someone who sees the worst parts of you, everything you're ashamed of and try to hide. However!" Riya tapped her student lightly on the forehead. "They can't do more than that. Simply observing all of you, with no way to reproach you or hurt you."

 

"Like a shrunken person?"

 

"Yes, dear!" Riya laughed. "I'm rather surprised you went right to that idea, but that's a perfect example. A very small guy, or girl if you prefer: they see you unfiltered and they don't raise a fuss. Can you picture that for me?"

 

"So vividly," Mary-Grace sighs. "It's almost scary, how easily I can imagine it! As if I could really feel him."

 

"Him?"

 

"Mmhmm. He'd be a pocket boyfriend, I guess. Um, not in the dirty sense!" She giggled. "Have you ever wanted to like... be in a relationship, except with no pressure to perform all that boy-girl stuff? You know?"

 

"Oh yes." Riya nodded encouragingly. "You'd be surprised how many women feel that way: wanting to fit the role of 'girlfriend' or 'wife', without struggling to fulfil men's romantic or sexual expectations."

 

"It's like you can read my mind sometimes, Prof— I mean, Riya!" Mary smiled up at the taller woman beside her. "With this hypothetical tiny guy, we could be together and it wouldn't be wrong to show him more. Umm... to let him see everything, even the private sides of my life, like you were saying."

 

The Fortuna freshman shifted nervously in her seat, worried that her teacher would somehow intuit her deepest secrets. Meanwhile, in the crushing confines beneath her, Max didn't have enough light to see anything much. But everything that he smelled, tasted or touched was indeed a private side of her.

 

Mary continued, "So he'd be allowed to be close with me, to peek behind the curtain. And some parts of me are... gross, weird, bad. But a tiny BF wouldn't shame me for that, or threaten me into doing stuff I was uncomfortable with."

 

"Hmm! Say more?" Riya prompted.

 

"He wouldn't have any leverage," Mary-Grace shrugged and laughed. "Like he'd be my boyfriend, yeah, but also basically a bug, you know? Sorry if that's offensive to say."

 

Max did not love that comparison, even if it wasn't intentionally aimed at him. Was he offended by it, though? After over an hour trapped in his classmate's underwear, Max felt certain there were many bugs with more dignity than him.

 

"I'm not here to police your words or thoughts, my dear." Riya rubbed Mary's back in reassurance. "I'm just here to help you grow." She smiled and added, "On that note, I'm feeling rather peckish. Would you allow me to treat you to lunch? I know of an excellent taco truck nearby, simple and satisfying."