Sonja's Story

***

Sonja sat on the bus, staring at her feet. She was riding home from her second session with her new hypnotherapist, Dr. Victoria Dotz. She had a car, but the bus system in the city of St. Britney was fairly safe and reliable, as long as you were riding during daylight hours. After dark was generally a different story, which is why she generally only used the car for night errands and going to work. Long days meant late nights at Van Black and Sons, the legal firm she worked for as a paralegal, and besides that, the pressure of the job meant she'd often sought refuge in her car when she was succumbing to a panic attack.

She wasn't thinking about any of that, though. Sonja was staring at her feet. Not the first time she'd done that on the bus, as shy as she was, but this wasn't out of shyness. Today she was staring at her feet because something felt... different. The way they felt inside her heel-less black loafers was wrong, but she was struggling to place what was wrong. Maybe because nothing was wrong? They didn't hurt, they weren't uncomfortable, they just felt... different, somehow. Even good, perhaps.

What happened to my socks?

she thought to herself. She had been wearing some, hadn't she? She plucked one of her feet out of its shoe, inspecting it as she mulled it over. It looked like her normal foot, it just didn't have a sock on it.

I always wear socks,

Sonja thought to herself.

Where are they?

She thought back, but just like after the first meeting, Sonja had a hard time remembering any specifics from her hypnotherapy sessions with Dr. Dotz. All she could remember was how content she felt during each session, somewhere far away from her daily anxieties. Somewhere she couldn't remember now that she was conscious. Sonja sighed longingly,

And now I can't remember my socks either!

Sonja slid her foot back into the black loafer.

Fine,

she thought,

Who needs socks anyway?

***

After she arrived at home, Sonja took off her shoes and when her bare feet touched the carpet she stopped what she was doing, marveling at how soft and

sweet

it felt under her toes. She balled her toes against the carpet several times before proceeding to walk to her room. As she walked she became suddenly aware of the warmth between her thighs, and how it increased as her legs brushed against each other. She felt a wetness as well, working in tandem with the warmth she was feeling.

"Okay, Sonja," she said to herself, alone in the apartment. "Time to take a cold shower, get your composure back. This isn't you." And it really wasn't; Sonja rarely indulged in sexual fantasies, she almost never masturbated, and she hadn't had sex since college. The experience had left a bad taste in her mouth, literally, and she had never sought it again.

Sonja walked to the bathroom, doing her best to ignore the strange tickle on the bottom of her feet as her toes dug deep into the carpet with every step. She wasn't sure if the pleasure she derived from each step made her comfortable or uncomfortable, but she hoped the shower would sort her out either way. Sonja closed the bathroom door behind her and began to undress, first peeling off her shirt and then her pants, tossing each in a pile.

She paused to look herself over in the mirror, something she didn't normally take the time to do. She felt cute, despite her desire to cool off those sorts of thoughts, and she caught herself standing on her tippy toes, turning slowly in each direction as she gazed at herself in the mirror. She shook her head at herself, and turned on the shower. Cold.

Then Sonja pulled off her bra, one of the new ones she had purchased last week, and set it on the pile. Though her breasts were not large, it was still a relief to finally have it off now at the end of the day. She fought the urge to look at herself in the mirror again, and this time she won. Now she began to slide her panties down from around her waist, and it was only now that she truly realized how soaking wet they were. She was puzzled, not for the first time that day, and wondered how they could have managed to get this wet since she got home. What she did not realize is that she had soaked through them during her session with Dr. Dotz, and every little stimuli since then had only added to it.

She watched -and felt- as three beads of her own juices trailed down her inner thigh.

This is ridiculous,

she thought. She finished peeling the soaked fabric down, lifting her legs out of it one at a time. She threw it down, and the wet slapping noise it made against the floor made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

Now she plunged herself into the shower, letting the cold water settle her nerves and

cool her off.

***

Ten minutes later, Sonja was sitting in her bedroom with a towel wrapped around her, covering her from her torso down almost to her knees. The shower had helped immensely in centering her and helping her regain her composure, but no matter how she scrubbed she felt like she couldn't shake the sensation in her feet. That feeling of sweet newness that she couldn't explain or get rid of.

But why are you trying to get rid of it?

She had shaken the thought while she was in the shower, and she tried to shake it now.

Sonja had already pulled out a clean set of clothes and set it on the bed, and now she reached for the pair of socks she had grabbed, forgetting her declaration on the bus. She put them on quickly but immediately frowned. They felt all wrong. They were too coarse, and Sonja swore she felt them chafing. She ripped them off and threw them in the corner of her room and went back to her dresser. Grabbing another pair blindly, she put them on, only to find that one refused to stay up and the other felt like it had been stretched out. She threw these in the corner and grabbed another pair. Both had holes in the heels. The next three she tried each had the same problem as the first, and the last pair was perfect, at least until she got back to her bed to continue dressing, and she realized they were too tight. They squeezed her feet in just the wrong way and she could feel her anxiety spike.

"No!" She cried aloud, as she bundled them up and threw them in the corner with the rest. "Okay, fine! No socks!" She exhaled loudly and flopped backward onto her bed, resting there for several minutes in her towel.

She took a deep breath as she was laying there, and fell back on the same trick she had used the week before when her anxiety was getting out of control at work. She pictured herself laying on the couch in Dr. Dotz's office, and she pictured the doctor's face above hers, smiling down sweetly at her, guiding her through the exercises.

A deep inhale, and a deep exhale. And again, several more times. She thought about the way Dr. Dotz looked at her, how it always felt like the doctor could see something that Sonja couldn't. She wasn't sure why she trusted the older woman so much, probably because it felt like Dr. Dotz believed in her. Sonja remembered how good she felt as the session ended, but she wished that she could remember more about the trance itself. She tried for a moment to pierce that barrier, but it was no use. She couldn't remember what happened during the trance proper, but she did suddenly remember more of what happened after.

The lotion!

Sonja sat up, searching for the small, lightweight backpack she normally used as a purse. She had stowed the glass bottle in the bag to keep it safe on the way home and had forgotten about it. The pack was hanging on the back of her door and she went to it, fetching out the bottle and returning to her seat on the bed.

"Maybe this will help, it's my feet that feel weird after all."

Had she realized at that moment what she was holding in her hand, she would have thrown it away. But she had no idea what it was. She had no idea who the doctor really was, or what she was capable of. Even without the doctor's little

addition

to the concoction, it was far from regular lotion. Dr. Dotz had developed it herself at University as part of an experiment to increase the libido of women. The experiment had been a resounding success in mice and rats, but the research had been shut down for further experimentation over ethical concerns.

But Sonja didn't know what she was holding, and she easily twisted the cap away and dropped a large dollop of the lotion into her hand. She lifted her hand to her nose and sniffed it, but it had no scent. She lightly touched the substance with a finger from her other hand, and then pressed her finger experimentally into her forehead, easily rubbing it in until both finger and forehead were dry.

She didn't feel anything. But to her, that was to be expected. She tried to bring one foot up to cross her other leg, but her towel was on too tight for the maneuver, and she quickly unclasped it and let it fall away from her still-damp form. Now she could cross her leg, and she brought her foot up and began rubbing the lotion into her foot. She didn't know it was the second time her feet were getting this treatment today, but she did know that it felt exquisite. She almost moaned out loud with the pleasure, and she slowly rubbed each foot in turn.

Sonja had closed her eyes at the feel of her own hands on her feet, at first because of how good it felt, and then because she had let herself slowly slip into the illusion that it was not her hands at all that were doing the rubbing, but Dr. Dotz's.

It's not sexual

she thought to herself immediately, ignoring the heat that was rising in her stomach. As she rubbed and rubbed, her hands eventually dried, and she reached back to the bottle for more, dropping another large dollop onto her hand, but she didn't go back to her feet. They already felt so good, but what about the rest of her?

She had begun to lose any cogent, conscious train of thought, and as she reached back down, she started rubbing again at her ankles, slowly moving her way upwards, massaging her shins and calves, gliding her hands over her own knees and thighs, and she thought of Dr. Dotz. She told herself it wasn't sexual again, but her thoughts betrayed her, and she reached for the bottle again, pouring another dollop into her hand and spreading it thoroughly across her inner thighs.

She had been rubbing for several minutes, gliding her hand between her inner and outer thighs, absently enjoying the feeling of the lotion on her skin, when she suddenly realized how

warm

she felt. The feeling got warmer, and then hotter, and then she could feel her skin begin to tingle, everywhere that she had just applied the lotion - everything below her waist.

It was hot and it tingled, but she realized it didn't feel bad - in fact it felt quite good. Sonja bit her lip where she was laying, wondering if she ought to go take another shower to wash the lotion off, but then the tingling increased suddenly, and so too did the sensation of pleasure. Her hips bucked upwards involuntarily, and when she brought them flat again, she felt that distinct wetness between her legs.

Fuck!

Sonja tried to tune it out for another moment, but she felt like the longer she waited, the more her skin tingled, the more her pussy throbbed and leaked. She decided she wouldn't ignore it anymore. She

couldn't

ignore it anymore.

The tingling was all consuming now, and Sonja's thoughts and actions were not entirely her own. Her eyes were closed against the sensation below her waist, and her hands worked quickly and desperately to pour a few more drops into her hand, and when she only felt a slow trickle come from the bottle, she thought she must have used the rest already.

It didn't matter though, she had gotten what she needed, and she didn't hesitate to slap her lotion-covered hand down onto her pussy, moaning quietly to herself as she rubbed the substance across her unshaven pubic mound, down over her clit, and then down to massage it into the thirsty lips of her labia.

She rubbed herself passionately, her wet fingers and vagina making a wet slapping sound that seemed to fill the entire room and penetrate her mind. Her legs curled and she brought them up to hug to her chest, and she found herself imagining the doctor above her again, smiling down at Sonja, rubbing her legs, aggressively fingering her clit and pussy. Sonja wanted to condemn herself for imagining the doctor, but she didn't have the time or the mental capacity.

The rubbing came faster and faster, and Sonja's hips began to buck involuntarily into her own hand, the hand she was pretending belonged to Dr. Dotz.

"Mmmm!" She moaned it urgently, and her toes curled into the bed underneath her. She felt like she was getting close. Close to something good.

"Ohh-" The feeling changed, suddenly more intense, and it took her breath away. She didn't stop touching herself, digging her fingers deep into her pussy, pretending it was the doctor. Her toes curled again, and reflexively she raised one of her legs, flexing the toes and stretching them out as far and as hard as she could. An image flashed unbidden into her mind, of the doctor perched by her feet, licking her feet and sucking each toe in turn.

"Oh, fuck,

oh my god!

" It was the final straw, and Sonja began to orgasm. It was unlike any orgasm she'd ever had before, by herself or with anyone else, but she didn't stop rubbing herself, and she continued to grind her pelvis into her own hand and arm. She could suddenly feel another substance, and she opened her eyes to look, watching transfixed at the creamy white fluid that was now covering her hand and pussy. It made the wet slapping sound even louder and wetter, but she didn't care about that, as a second wave came over and her body shuddered in another orgasm.

Over the course of several minutes she rode the orgasms and then slowly came to a stop, but she could feel her entire body trembling from the exertion and subsequent release. There was a thin sheen of sweat covering her, and she thought about taking a shower.

She should have taken a shower. Had she known what she had just rubbed all over herself, she would have taken a shower to fight any long term effects.

But she didn't know what it was, so instead she fell asleep where she was, naked and slathered in her own sweat, cum, and a mysterious substance designed to increase her libido that had never been approved for human testing.

As she slept, she dreamt of a pink cloud.

***

Sonja woke up in the same position she'd fallen asleep, curled halfway into a ball on her side, completely naked, with one hand nestled deep between her legs and the other lightly held over one breast. She continued to lay completely still, trying to get her bearings. It wasn't until she stirred slightly and she felt the middle finger of her right hand slip from its position buried half-a-finger-deep into her vagina. It fell out, accompanied by the wet

*slorp*

of suction slowly giving way, and she felt an instantaneous tingle spread from her vagina, to her buttocks, to her waist, and down her thighs and calves, into her feet and then her toes.

The feeling crossed her in a flash and was gone, but it served as a reminder of how she'd gotten where she was. She slowly pushed herself up, and propped herself up groggily. She rubbed her eyes with her dry hand and looked at the clock. Two hours had passed. Then she looked up out the window, squinting her eyes against the morning sun.

Wait,

MORNING SUN?

She looked back at the clock, and then back to the window, then back to the clock, and her jaw dropped. It had not been two hours. It had been fourteen!

Sonja sat there in shock for several moments, her legs curled together demurely as she blinked, doe-eyed and confused. She was certain she had never slept for so long all at once, and she was thankful that it was Sunday, her one true day off during the week now that she had hypnosis sessions on Saturdays.

She stretched out slowly on the bed, reaching her hands towards the head of her bed and her feet down toward the foot of the bed, each limb and accompanying digits stretching as far as she could make them. It felt good.

Too good,

she warned herself, becoming increasingly aware of her nakedness, even as alone as she was. She could feel something in her feet and in her legs, no longer an outright tingling sensation, but perhaps a light buzzing.

She pretended like she didn't feel it

between

her legs too, and got up to get dressed.

Her bath towel was still where it had been, underneath her where she'd fallen asleep on top of her bed, but she left it where she was. Twenty four hours ago Sonja might have been too meek to walk around her own bedroom naked, but for some reason it didn't bother her today. Not that she consciously realized it, she was too busy looking through her dresser drawers and her closet.

Sonja started at her dresser, rolling out the top drawer and pulling out a pair of underwear. Usually she wore plain white cotton, but today she happened to pull out a pair of black cotton tanga-style underpants she had purchased the week before, but had pretended not to see all week so she could stay in her comfort zone. Now at the end of the week there weren't many other options left, but it didn't matter. Sonja hardly seemed to notice them as she held them in her hand and walked over to her closet, opening both folding doors as far as they would go and tapping her chin with her free hand as she inspected the contents.

She pulled out a pair of jeans and looked at them. Faded blue 'mom pants' that wouldn't quite suit the errand she had in mind today. She dismissed them and put them back. Her hand flitted across her hangars, settling on another and pulling it out. A pair of form-fitting skinny jeans that she hadn't worn since college, and mused over whether they were still in fashion. She doubted it, but she slung them over one arm as a "maybe."

Sonja felt like wanted something less claustrophobic than pants, which cut her options short. If she had paused to consider it, she would have found this whole thing odd. She wouldn't have been able to remember the last time she'd taken more than a minute to pick out an outfit and put it on, much less the last time she had lounged in front of the closet completely naked.

But she didn't pause to consider it. Something had relaxed inside of her, something she couldn't quite comprehend or even consciously realize. Now, she was standing naked in her room, completely forgetful of the substances her thighs had been soaking in for over half a day.

Finally she reached into her closet and pulled out a piece of clothing that seemed to satisfy her. It was a light brown pleated skirt, nothing too fancy, plenty long enough to protect her modesty, but she thought her legs would feel unconstrained underneath.

Sonja dropped the jeans, leaving them where they landed, and finally began to dress. She slid the panties on one foot at a time, then pulled them up her lean legs until they settled around her waist. She felt surprised they fit so well, and she couldn't help but walk over to where she had a mirror mounted on the wall and look at how the underwear complimented her form.

The mirror had rarely been used, and she had to wipe the dust off before she could see her form clearly. She rotated slowly, looking at herself at every angle she could. She was critical of her figure, and not completely without need - her buttocks seemed rather flat, and she realized for the first time that she had hip dips. She'd never been self-conscious of that kind of thing before, but now, for some reason, she was.

Sonja turned and examined her breasts, her modest B-cups. They weren't very large, she told herself, but she thought it was pretty how her nipples looked, with each one set an inch or so above dead center on each breast, angled slightly upward - she thought it made them look perky. She didn't know they were called "retrousse tits," but she did know how they felt under her hands as she cupped them softly and gave them a gentle squeeze. They felt big enough, she thought, but she also had small hands. She gazed at herself idly as she wondered what it would feel like if the doctor grabbed them, or even Thomas...