Dr. Frans' Office

"Okay, Mrs. Thompson, what seems to be your problem today?"

The curvy, blue eyed blonde heavily sighed, her huge boobs raising far out as it was like she took all the air in the room. Crossing one of her thick legs over the other, she answered, "My son hates his father, my husband, Daniel."

The therapist sat there, her eyebrow raising a little in confusion. She fixed her glasses on her face, staring at the tattooed woman in front of her. She asked, "Do you know of any reason why he would hate his father?"

Mrs. Thompson, or Rita, rather, folded her colorful, sleeve tattooed arms, and nodded her head. "I know exactly why, Marla. It's because he's jealous."

"Jealous of what?" Marla, Rita's psychiatrist for the past six years, inquired.

"Jealous that his father has me," Rita bluntly answered.

Being a psychiatrist, Marla's mind immediately began to overanalyze and overthink. It's what her job entailed, finding all the little details to discover the reasons for something. After a few moments, the slender brunette twirled her ink pen in her fingers and let her notepad rest on her lap. Finally, she hypothesized, "He's jealous of your husband because he has you, someone that he's in a relationship in and loves him deeply. Someone who he cares for and in return, shows that same care and affection back. Your son is jealous because he wishes he had that someone."

"No," Rita stated as she nervously ran her fingers through her very light blonde hair. "I mean, he's jealous of me. Like me, the person."

"I'm sorry?" Marla leaned in with a perplexed expression. "I don't know if I'm following."

"He does wish he had what my husband had," Rita did acknowledge as her eyes wandered to the side of the dimly lit, relaxing office. She then added, "But he doesn't want it with someone else. He wants it with me."

Marla stared at Rita, watching her patient's full lips intently so she could understand every word coming out of them. She wasn't quite understanding what the forty-eight-year-old was talking about and it was taking her a minute to try and get it. After some time to think, Marla's eyes widened when she seemingly came to a revelation, one she hoped she was wrong about. "Mrs. Thompson, I do believe I know what you're talking about, but I am wishing that it's an incorrect assumption."

"As much as I wish I could tell you to get your mind out of the gutter, I simply can't," Rita told her. Rubbing her chubby thighs with her hands, she breathed, "The reason I came to you today is because my son wants me."

"Rita, this is a very huge claim, and quite disturbing one at that, to make. What would make you think that?" Marla sputtered.

The blue jeans-wearing woman, who wore a black blouse and gray cardigan with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows along with a pair of black boots, fixed her eyes on her slightly older psychiatrist. She then began, "We can start with the hugging that lasts just a little too long."

"Now, I do remember you saying that a few years ago when he was in high school, he had a long phase where he completely closed you out," Marla recalled. She then explained to the 5'5 woman, "Seeing as to how he completely ignored you and never gave you anything physically, it could just be your mind and body adjusting to him finally giving it to you. Likewise, maybe he just really appreciates his mother and shows it through hugging."

"Okay, then why is it with every hug he gives, his hands seem to get just a little lower?" Rita mentioned. "He started at my shoulders, now they find themselves at my lower back. Not to mention the smelling."

"Smelling?" the 5'10 woman repeated.

Rita clarified, "He does this weird thing sometimes when he hugs me. I'll hear him sniff a few times and the hug gets a little tighter and he presses against me a little more."

"Maybe a comfort mechanism," Marla tried to defend against the outrageous claims. "Your scent could calm him or make him feel better."

"Alright, doctor. Since you think it's all innocent, then please explain this," Rita dared. "Why is it that one day, when him and I were talking, he randomly brought up the topic of relationships and said, 'When I get a girl, I want her to be just like you. Truth be told, I want my girl to be you."

"W...I me...Well..." Marla stuttered, trying to think of something to say to that.

Rita went on, "And why is it another time, a few weeks ago, I went in his room to check on him and he was laying on his bed, fully naked and clearly recently masturbated. He was asleep, had his phone in his hand with the screen on. It was a folder with a bunch of my pictures on it! Can you explain that?"

"Could've easily swiped or hit his screen a few times while he slept," Marla countered. She may have said it out loud, but she was in no way believing it. She just couldn't believe that it was true.

Rita then brought up, "There was also the time we were doing the dishes and he made the point to always rub a part of himself against me. There's als-"

"Alright! Alright! I get it. I was just hoping it wasn't true," Marla interjected and put her hand on her forehead. "Christ, how long has it been like this?"

"For like the last two years," Rita said before clarifying, "But it has really revved up over the last couple of months."

"Have you talked to Mr. Thompson about this?" Marla queried. "Have you tried getting Mr. Thompson to talk to his son?"

"No, not exactly something you talk on the phone about," Rita spoke. "And no because he wouldn't dare. He already has a disdain for his father, not even wanting to think about him, let alone be around him or say a word to him. It'd be even harder getting him to talk to him now that he's away."

Marla got a little intrigued hearing about the circumstances of Rita's husband. She asked, "Away? Away to where?"

"Ever since he got promoted a few months ago, he's been on business trips all across the country. He may come home for one or two days, but he's right off to somewhere else," Rita laid out with a heavy exhale.

Suddenly, the gears in Marla's head began turning. The hint of a smirk appeared on her face, but her patient didn't see it. Had she, she would've seen the maniacal grin and gotten a little uncomfortable. The psychiatrist moved her bang out of her brown eyes and questioned, "Do you miss him?"

"Of course," Rita beamed thinking about her man. "He's my husband and I love him."

"Do you miss the way he would touch you? The way he would feel you? The things he'd do to you?" Marla interrogated.

The huge smile that was on Rita's face slowly faded as she began to connect the dots that her mental health doctor was laying out. She brushed some of her blonde hair behind her ear a little nervously. She then argued, "If you're trying to imply that I'm fantasizing about my son doing things he's not actually doing or longing for the touch of someone, even if it had to be my son, then I'm going to have to ask you to stop. The thought of doing anything with him disgusts me.

"However, I do miss him. And I'll admit, the thought of being with someone else for a night of passion has crossed my mind, but I can't do that to my husband. I can't betray his trust like that. So, as much as I love the thought of getting slapped around and choked, they'll remain just that, thoughts."

"I wasn't implying anything," Marla said as she began to write a note down on her pad.

The note was only one simple word, but Marla thought it was very important. Scribbled in blank ink, the white sheet of paper showed the word 'submissive.'

"And as if we don't spend enough time with each other in the house," Rita brought up as she referred back to her son, "He also insists on trying to go everywhere with me. The grocery store, the park, anywhere. Even here. I literally had to beg him to just stay in the waiting room because I couldn't let him hear about this.

"Everytime a guy as much as looks at me, Tony, that's his name by the way, sizes them up with a cold stare and declares 'She's taken.' Not like he's speaking for his dad, but like he's speaking for himself."

Marla let her finish, but she was stuck on one thing. After taking note of his name in her pad, she then shot up and questioned, "He's here? In the waiting room?"

"Yeah," Rita squinted a little confused. "But, like I said, I don't think it'd be a good thing for him to hear this. One, it's awkward to bring up and two, there's no telling how'd he react."

"I disagree," Marla quickly replied. "Facing this problem head on will do wonders. Letting it sit and wait may only make it worse. As you said, it has gotten a bit more intense over the past few months. You let it go a little longer and who knows what he'll do. I believe we need to settle it, or at least take steps in trying to, right now. We don't have to dive right in. We can just ease into it for now."

"Marla, I don't really know if that's the be-"

The mother was stopped when her psychiatrist stood up. She walked over with her long legs and tall, slender intimidating frame and stood right over the thick woman. Marla was leering down at her, breathing heavily.

"It will be good," Marla asserted from just a few inches away from the woman.

As Rita stared up at the doctor, her heart began to race in from fear. Not like she was scared, but excited to see where this could go. She really just wanted to out her hand right between her legs because just from the presence of the much taller woman over her with her slightly demanding voice, she could feel the inside of her getting a little wet. but, she thought it wasn't the time for that. If only she knew how wrong it was.

"Okay, ma'am," Rita gave in, almost like she was being obedient.

Marla then nodded and went towards the door. With her back now facing Rita, she rolled her eyes with a huge smirk on her lips. She was merely testing how much of a sub Rita was, and she got her answer easily. Rita probably never saw her in a sexual way, but with one domineering act, she was about to give her masturbation material. It was all about to come together.

Yes, she had only heard about this dilemma moments ago, but she already made a plan on how to take advantage of it. She found it interesting and a little bit of a turn on, and she was already plotting how to use it for her personal gain. If Marla was anything, it was quick on her feet.

Marla opened her office door and looked out into her small waiting room. Immediately, she saw a boy sitting there, earphones on in a chair that was facing away from her office. His hair was blonde, like his mom's, and was cut a bit short. As he was facing away, that's the only feature she could really say about him. Though, she did notice that he wasn't really sticking up from over the chair. She immediately thought to herself that he must've gotten his height from his mom. Now she was a bit more satisfied because she thought it would be easier.

Looking over to her right, there was her secretary, sitting at her round desk on the computer. The redheaded, twenty-seven year old secretary glanced up from the screen and flashed a smile at her boss.

Marla returned the smile and told her secretary, "Hey, Diana, you've been doing a great job."

"Thank you," she grinned. "Just doing what I'm told."

"Well, if that's your simple secret, then why don't you just take the rest of the day off?" Marla offered the girl. "This is the last patient for the day anyway, and I'd like to reward you with something. Don't worry, you'll still be paid for the time you're not here....and there just might be one or two hours added on."

"What?" Diana gasped. "I mean, I still have a few things I have to do. I'd feel bad just leaving them incomplete and then back myself up tomorrow."

"Oh, nonsense," Marla tried to make her secretary disregard her concerns. "Anything left, I'll do after I finish up here. Now go on, get out of here. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow."

Diana could only stare at her boss, puzzled by what she was being told to do. Yet, she also knew that this was something that was not going to be given to her everyday. So, not wasting another second, the secretary collected her things and nearly ran out. Before exiting through the door, she stopped and praised her boss by gleefully cheering, "Greatest boss ever."

If only she knew the real reason why she was being told to leave. It was not because of the good work she had been doing. No, Marla didn't want her to leave. She needed her to leave because there could be no obstacles or witnesses. This was all for her.

Now, her sights were set on the son of her patient, who was oblivious to everything around him as he was in his own world with his earphones in his ear. She straightened her button up white and gray striped blouse, fixed her black slacks. Then, she hungrily licked her lips and made her way towards him.

The boy in the chair was completely unaware of what was going on just a few feet behind him. The music he played was loud enough to drown out all the noise behind him, and a quick look at him would see him staring down at his rosy colored arm, the same skin tone as his mother. He may have been staring there, but his eyes were visualizing something else as he was in a deep daydream. A daydream that anyone else may have found taboo, but one he was perfectly comfortable with.

As he sat there, picturing his vile act with an unattainable person, he jumped a little as he felt a cold, slightly strong hand touch his back. He quickly looked to his left and was startled to see the face of an older woman with a few wrinkles on her face next to him. It was Marla, but hadn't been properly introduced to her yet, so the sight of the woman made him a little terrified.

Marla was leant down next to him, her hand touching the cloth of his shirt, but making sure that her fingers made a bit of contact with the bottom of his neck. She showed him a smile to try and comfort the boy.

A little confused, he took the earphones from his ears and mumbled to the woman, "H...hi."

"Hello," she greeted him. She then introduced herself, "I'm Dr. Franks, your mother's psychiatrist, but you can call me Marla. And you're Tony, correct?"

"Y...yeah," he stumbled over his word a little. He was still a little tense because of who he was talking to. Not because she was a doctor, but because she was a woman. Tony was always scared talking to anyone of the female gender. Well, except for one, that is. That one exception was his mother. And whenever he did talk to a girl, he just put his mom in the back of his mind. It was a little tougher for him now, however, since Marla made it a point to make physical contact with him.

The psychiatrist then explained, "Nice to meet you. I have heard a lot about you."

Really?

That's what the boy wanted to jump up and shout. The thought of his mom talking about him sent a very warm feeling through his body and Marla very much sensed it.

Grinning to herself, she then spoke in a very soft tone, "Anyway, I came out here because I wanted to talk to you about something. But, having thought about it for a little, I believe it'd be better if you, I and your mother talked about it together."

How does one get Tony to go along with anything? Just tell him that he and his mother will be together.

"Okay," he urgently nodded with lit up eyes, thinking about how it seemed like an eternity since he saw his mother, though it had only been minutes. "Sure, no problem."

"Good," Marla approved. Standing up straight, she then invited, "Please, step into my office and I'll be right there."

As Tony gleefully got up, her early mental note was confirmed. Even in the black flats she wore, Marla was noticeably taller than him. He was maybe 5'8 at the most, but that was still taller than his mother. It didn't really matter to her, but it was something that was going to further help her out with her plan. If anything went wrong, which if she played her cards right, wouldn't happen, she could easily overpower the both of them. But, it most likely wouldn't come to that.

As he went into her room, Marla walked over to the door for the office and locked it. Making sure it was completely locked, she leaned against the door and intently stared at her office doorway. Now, it was just her, the Thompson mother and the Thompson boy.

Going back to her room, she closed and locked that door as well, just as a form of backup. She looked over to the couch, where she saw an all too eager Tony sitting very close to a visibly uncomfortable Rita. Based on her short time knowing and hearing about the problem. Rita had and how her son seemed to think about her, Marla thought that one glimpse alone was a good indication of how their relationship was. But being the good, dedicated psychiatrist she was, Dr. Franks was about to get them close and solve their problems.

As she stepped over and took a seat in her chair, Marla exhaled heavily and prepared herself to begin her plan to make Rita and Tony happy and fulfill both of their wants, while also satisfying hers.

Operation Mentally Break the Thompsons was about to begin.

"Now, Tony," Marla began, "I bet you're wondering why I wanted to speak to you."

Breaking himself out of the gaze he gave his mother, he responded to the psychiatrist, "I guess, yeah."

The boy only gave her short replies. Clearly, he wasn't a talker. At least, he wasn't a talker when it came to most topics. She felt on the right subject, he'd open right up.

Choosing to not beat around the bush, and completely disregarding what she told her patient moments ago, Marla bluntly revealed, "Well, to be one hundred percent honest with you, your mother thinks you want to fuck her."

Rita choked on air gasping so fast. Her eyes grew wide as her jaw dropped. She stared at her doctor and sputtered, "You said you were going to ease into it! What the hell!?"

Sensing the irate energy of Rita, Marla commented, "I did say that. But, I figure the best course of action is to be open about it."

"What kind of psychiatrist are you, doing things against your patients wishes?" Rita complained.

"One who knows what's best for her patients and tries to help them solve their issues in the best possible manner," Marla raised her voice at the woman.

Oh, that definitely made Rita stop talking. She liked being talked to in an aggressive manner. She may have tried to show that she didn't appreciate it, but she was loving it.

"Now, Tony, please answer the question," Marla requested as she turned her attention back to the boy. "And, keep in mind she has told me things. Do you want to fuck your mother?"

Tony did not like being put on the spot in the manner he had been put. However, the one thing he hated more than that was the notion that Marla had just put out. His brows furrowed and he ranted, "Fuck my mother? Are you crazy? That's outrageous. No, I don't want to fuck my mother. Of course not."

Just when Marla was about to alter her plan to still try and get to her destined outcome, the next thing that Tony admitted to was just about to make it all the more easy.

"I don't want to fuck my mother. I want to make love to her."

And the plan could now be set in motion without a hitch.

Rita gave a nervous stare to her son and would've tried to move over had she not already been pushed up against the arm on one side and her son leaving just about no space between them on the other. Now, even though she already knew, hearing the confirming words made her very scared.

Marla raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "Why is that? Why do you want to make love to your mother?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Tony started. "She's beautiful, she's sweet, and she's just so caring. She's just a literal dreamgirl. What isn't there to love about her? And to show how much I love her, I want to do it in the most affectionate way possible."