*This is fiction. All characters are not based on real people and the themes of this story may be difficult for some*
Chapter 1 - www.sexstories.com/story/106487/
Chapter 2 - www.sexstories.com/story/106545/
Amy woke up at ten in the morning feeling well-rested. For weeks she had woken up tired, from restless nights full of terrors, but ever since she indulged in her masturbatory exercises she felt energised again. Oh how she had missed those lazy Saturday mornings where she could sleep in, uninterrupted by fear or paranoia. She started her weekend with some light stretches, followed by a healthy breakfast.
Knowing she was now officially a patient under Dr. Conseil Amy felt herself shuddering at the thought of continued therapy. Try as she might, she couldn’t help but wonder what was in store for her on Friday; it was gnawing at her, filling her with a morbid curiosity. Throughout the week she kept up with her normal life as best she could. It was a struggle to attend her Sports and Physical health lectures as well as gymnastics training, but she was doing her best to at least show up. That was already an improvement since she was unable to attend at all a few weeks ago. However, Amy found it difficult to keep focus during lectures, wary of any potential attack now that she was outside the safety of her home, but managed to hold herself steady. During gymnastics practise it was difficult to pay attention to her movements and she found herself unable to stay up on the balance beam for more than a few seconds. She wavered before falling onto the mat below, and cursed at herself. Her coach could tell she was still in the same rut she had been for the past few months, and picked her up from the ground to talk to her.
“Still a bit rusty, eh?” He said, patting her on the shoulder. His name was Coach Matthews, but everyone simply called him Coach. He was a stocky, clean shaven man in his fifties, dressed head to toe in grey cotton fleece. He’d been teaching gymnastics at the university for decades, and had a knack for churning out world-class gymnasts. He was the main reason Amy even applied to university, but she had only managed to join one session before taking her mental health break. Luckily, Coach Matthews already knew about Amy given her previous awards, and in that one session she had impressed the coach, who saw real potential in the girl.
“I understand you’ve had to take care of personal issues, so I was fine with letting you take some time off. When you came back today for the first time in over a month I knew there would be a catch up period, but you need to hustle.” Amy’s eyes were glazed over, she was lost in her thoughts, wondering how she could escape if a pack of wild mutts stormed the gymnasium. Coach waved his hand in front of the girl’s eyes, waking her up from her daydream. “Focus! It’s like you’re on another planet today. Look, I’ve got multiple people from the gymnastics board asking about replacing you on the team, and I said no every time. I think you’ve got what it takes to make it big, and I want you on the team, but in a few weeks it won’t be my choice. Come the review period in November, the board will grade your performance and decide if you’re ready to compete nationally. If you fail, you’re off the team until next year. You need to show them that you’re in tip top gymnastic shape. Now, I know you can do it, but I need you here to practise with me every day to make up for lost time, and you definitely need to get your head cleared up.” he said. Amy appreciated the support from her coach, he’d really been sticking his neck out for her while she was away.
“I’ll do my best, Coach. I’ll really put everything into getting on track. I won’t let you down; next week - I mean, tomorrow, I’ll be here.” she answered, and Coach beamed at her ambition. In truth, Amy was concerned: if she didn’t go back to the star athlete she was in a few weeks she would be kicked off the team. She hadn’t done any training in over a month, and her mental state still wasn’t strong enough to handle the focus required for training, so she would have to really push herself both physically and mentally in therapy to secure her place.
She went home feeling defeated by life, going around the estate and hopping the fence into the back garden of her dorm house. If only that damn neighbour of hers could just keep his dog inside! She went into her room to cool down after such a long day. It was hard to be so tense all day long and she needed to unwind. Almost immediately she thought about masturbating; it had quickly become the part of her day when she felt in control of her phobia; when she could just lose herself physically. In fact she had been masturbating every night that week, to the same fantasy of her attack. One of the benefits of a damaged psyche like hers was that she could turn her worst fears into something sexually stimulating, it really did feel cathartic. It was as if her sexual arousal suppressed her fear. Soon after stripping down and untying her hair, she was under the covers and playing with herself. Her conflicting morality on the issue made it difficult, but she was getting accustomed to masturbating like this. Knowing it was prescribed by her doctor helped reassure her that fantasising about dogs was actually beneficial for her. As she had done every night that week, Amy played with herself until she came, her juices running down her legs, and tried to ignore the shame that came after. That was also getting easier; after all, they were only fantasies. In the past few days she had tried watching human porn, but it was just as Conseil had said: absolutely no physical response. She hoped one day that she could eventually enjoy regular porn again, but it didn’t seem likely at this point in time. Even her favourite romance novels had lost their appeal. As per doctor’s orders, she had also begun looking online at bestiality porn, and found plenty of videos of women getting down and dirty with their pets. It was fascinating to Amy, who poured over her screen for hours in a state of dark curiosity. She watched video after video. Each one had millions of views.
‘Do people really like this stuff?’ she thought to herself, watching various women get on their hands and knees for a huge dog to mount them. Amy watched as their canine cocks disappeared into their pussies, some of them even taking the knot. ‘Knot’. That was a new word for Amy to add to her vocabulary. While watching the videos she felt a similar twisting in her stomach accompanied by the urge to masturbate, which she often found herself doing now. Something about the act of bestiality was just so *naughty* to her and had become a mandatory fantasy if she wanted to orgasm. Coincidentally, one video featured a small redhead like herself getting mounted by a rottweiler, and was a video she found herself returning to frequently. Watching the girl ease the canine cock from its sheath, licking it, sucking on it, before finally letting the beast fuck her until she went limp with pleasure was riveting. She always came to that video. Amy found it especially curious just how happy the woman was, how all the women in the videos were, to be having sex with a canine. They didn’t seem overly demented or traumatised, just perverted and a little too curious. She felt conflicted at their smiles.
Soon enough it was Friday again, and Amy woke up bright and early. She stretched, showered and made a healthy breakfast, before pulling on a white t-shirt, tracksuit bottoms, and a jacket. Her bun tied atop her head in the usual way, she set off over the fence and through the convoluted bystreets to get to university. There she managed to attend her lecture but her thoughts were occupied by today’s coming therapy session. After dazing through her classes she took a bus to NAR’s office. Nervously, Amy knocked on the same hardwood door, and saw it open to reveal Laura Linton, nude apart from an emerald green silk robe which wasn’t tied, revealing a strip of skin from her neck to her exposed sex. This gown was cut even shorter than before, stopping only an inch or so below her navel.
“Good Afternoon, Amy!” she chirped with delight. Her torso was a shade pinker than her usual ivory complexion, as if she had been smacked all along her body.
“Good afternoon.” squeaked Amy, still surprised by her daring appearance. Laura welcomed her inside with a wave and took her upstairs to Dr. Conseil’s office, her hips swaying with each step. Laura’s bottom was a much deeper shade of pink, which Amy couldn’t help but stare at as she followed her up the stairs. In the office Amy quietly sat down on the red sofa while the doctor sat on the other, ready to begin their session.
“Good afternoon, Amy.” Dr. Conseil greeted in his usual calm voice. The smell of incense was heavy in the room.
“Hello, doctor.” she replied, nervously playing with her sleeve.
“First things first. Have you been following your instructions to masturbate to canines?” he asked, getting straight to business. Amy was taken aback by his forthright manner.
“Y-Yes, doctor. It was difficult, but I made an effort to watch more bestiality content. I actually watched it every night rather than three nights this week.” she answered, a bit of smug creeping in from her embarrassed tone. Being an overachiever, Amy revelled when it came to reporting homework, but she still found it uncomfortable to admit to watching dog porn.
“Very good, Amy. Tell me about what you’ve found.” He said, and Amy spoke of the videos she watched, in particular the one featuring the redhead and the rottweiler. Dr. Conseil made notes as she recounted her findings.
“It feels odd, but I think I’m getting used to masturbating again.” She said, going a shade of red. The doctor smiled; she was making progress.
“I’m glad to hear that, Amy. It’s a sign that you are making steady progress. If you feel comfortable, I would like to take another step with you today. Is that alright?” He asked.
“Erm, that depends on what exactly this ‘step’ is.” she answered with caution. Her face lit up in shock, “You’re not bringing in a real dog, are you?” she asked, looking at the door with a panic.
“Not yet, Amy. We want to take things slowly to get a better understanding of the limits to this imprinted attraction. Physical contact will still be necessary, but I think we can both agree that it would be best to have some restraint for now.” He said in a reassuring tone.
Amy felt relieved; she was definitely not ready to be near a real dog just yet. The doctor continued.
“You say that you are getting accustomed to masturbation, and I take it this is only to canine-based stimuli. Have you noticed anything change in your sexual attraction to humans?” he pressed. Amy knew the answer, no change. She searched her mind anyway, hoping for something that would prove her attraction to people was alive, but came up empty.
“Nothing. Like, at all. I’ve tried watching human porn,” she said, “all kinds, even the more *niche* stuff.”
“I see.” he said, noting it down, which made the girl self conscious.
“Sorry. I just mean that I’ve tried, but it doesn’t work. For some godforsaken reason, the dog videos are the only ones that do anything for me.” Amy said, gesturing in frustration with her hands. Dr. Conseil could see how agitated she was becoming, and decided to press on.
“Do you think masturbating to your fears has been helpful?” he asked.
“Weirdly enough, yes. I’m still very much scared, but I don’t feel as stressed anymore.” she answered.
“Do you think you fear dogs because of this sexual attraction?” he asked.
“Haven’t we been over this?” she asked. “Yes. You said my physical attraction clashes with my mental self which makes me scared, or something like that.”
“I would like you to show a full understanding of your condition. Try telling me in your own words.” he said calmly.
Amy thought for a moment.
“Alright. My physical attraction to dogs makes me uncomfortable. That’s the clash, I shouldn’t be sexually attracted to things that I find so mentally repulsive. Because of the attack, my brain has tangled up the ideas of dogs and sex so tightly that I can’t undo one without addressing the other simultaneously. Right?”
“Right.” he confirmed.
“If I tried to get accustomed to dogs in a non-sexual sense this wouldn’t resolve any of the sexual misplacement, and since they are so tightly wound that would basically have no effect. I can’t force a sexual attraction to humans because the knot in my psyche has clouded my brain so much I can’t even register human beings as sexual at all. Even though I know they should be. I have to address dog sex before my mind can deal with human sex, or sex in general.”
“Correct.” he said.
“But addressing dogs and sex simultaneously involves bestiality which contradicts with basic morals; sex between people and dogs is disgusting.” she concluded.
“Excellent memory, Amy. You have a very good understanding of the situation going on in your mind, which makes accepting therapy that much easier. I would like to talk a bit more about morality with you, if I may.” he said. “You, like most people, find bestiality to be morally wrong. Unfortunately, you are completely right that you will need to loosen these morals if you want your therapy to be effective. So, I have one question to ask you. What makes dog sex ‘disgusting’ to you?” he posed.
Amy’s face contorted at such a question.
“It just is. We’re different species, so we aren’t supposed to have sex with each other. It’s nature. The only reason I’m willing to do it is because I’ve been imprinted and want to cure it.” she answered.
“Exactly. You incorrectly believe that your sex organ is intended solely for other humans. For your therapeutic needs, we need to change that.” he started. Amy was dubious of this, but let Dr. Conseil continue, “Resolving the clash between your mental and physical self is the most important step in your rehabilitation. However, engaging in degenerate acts like bestiality can damage your psyche if you aren’t mentally adjusted to them. They could result in trauma worse than what you already have.”
“Hold on, I thought the whole point of this therapy was to improve my condition?.” Amy returned.
“It is, which is why we need to adjust your mental state to protect you from long term psychological damage.” the doctor said decisively, “It is my opinion that you will need to take some further mental precautions to make the physical acts of bestiality more therapeutic rather than traumatic. You need to align your mental identity more closely to your physical one. You mentally see yourself as a human that shouldn’t have sex with dogs. While it is normal to believe that dog sex is immoral, you need to adopt a more nuanced view for yourself.”
“More… nuanced.” Amy repeated, already disliking what she was hearing and slumping into the sofa.
“It will be better for your mind to adjust to dog sex if you take on the role of canine instead of homo. Identifying with the canophile in you rather than suppressing it will ground you whenever you feel overwhelmed by the therapy.” Dr. Conseil said.
Amy processed what he was saying.
“So, I have to align my mental state with my physical state to find bestiality more appealing. You want me to identify as… a dog?” She asked.
“Not completely. Physically, you find dogs sexually attractive, but mentally you find this attraction wrong. In order for our therapy to help you, you will need to adjust your mentality to have a more positive view of dog sex. You are obviously a human, but it will be safer to suspend your disbelief in certain aspects of your identity. In particular, how you identify sexually will need a complete overhaul.”
There was a pause.
“How so?” Amy asked, curious and apprehensive.
“You need to dampen your human sexuality from a mental standpoint to match the physical. Your physical attraction has become canine only, so you must do the same mentally. You’ve made progress masturbating to bestiality porn, but you must do more to make the idea of bestiality less repulsive to you.”
Dr. Conseil could see a disgust rising in the girl as he spoke.
“I don’t think it would be right to make bestiality ‘less repulsive’. It’s wrong for a reason.” Amy contrasted.
“I do not disagree with you, but much of what we consider right and wrong is simply societal conditioning.” he continued, “This isn’t something that can happen overnight, Amy. It will be slow and gradual. Keep in mind that without this mental adjustment you will never get the therapy you need.” he said conclusively. Dr. Conseil could see he had said enough, and left Amy to process.
Amy sat still on the red sofa, fidgeting with her jacket sleeve. She was feeling overwhelmed. She’d already signed the contract and agreed to do whatever taboo sex act she needed to do, mainly out of desperation and partly out of how aroused the contract made her, but this sounded more like… mind control. Adjusting her mentality to match her physical? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Her physical condition was the problem, not her mental state.
“I’m sure you must feel confused by all this,” said the doctor. “It might seem like we are going backwards, but please have trust in my method. Masturbating to canines also seemed like the opposite of what you should have done, but because of it you were able push past your fear, relieve some stress and attend classes again. I remember only one week ago you said you were too afraid to leave your dorm.” he said, seeing the realisation begin to show on the girl’s face. “This mental adjustment is necessary to resolve your physical condition, after which we can work from there to readjust your psyche to whatever suits you best.”
Amy thought on what Dr. Conseil had said. She thought back to her gymnastics training sessions that she had been doing every day and how she was committed to doing whatever was necessary to keep her on the team. She couldn’t back out now, there wasn’t enough time to find another therapist; as if that would even help her. Dr. Conseil was right, this was the only kind of therapy that seemed to work, and the doctor himself seemed to know what he was talking about. He was confident that this ‘mental adjustment’ would result in Amy curing her phobia, and that reassured her.
“Alright.” she relented. “What do I need to do to adjust my mental self?”
“Wonderful to hear, Amy.” he replied. The doctor called Laura into the room and she entered with something in her hand. “I would like you to wear this.” Laura handed Amy a collar to look at. It was made of thick black leather with a soft lining, and came adorned with a brass, bone-shaped tag. ‘Amy Macdonald’ was engraved on the front. Her eyes went wide, and she felt a stirring in her stomach. Amy held the collar in her hands and looked up at Dr. Conseil with a frustrated expression.
“I’m not a dog, doctor.” she explained.
“I can see that, Amy.” he replied.
“I’m not sure you do. See, this is a dog collar. For dogs. I’m a *human*.” She explained in an annoyed tone.
“It may seem strange, but there is a reason I want you to wear this collar. Lowering your status to that of a dog will help to align your mental and physical states. Nothing works better than a physical object, a gentle mental reminder of your place.” he explained. Amy’s expression faltered, going from annoyance to pleading. The idea of wearing what was obviously a dog collar hit her with a pang of dread and an unwanted sense of arousal.
“Do I have to?” she pleaded.
“You always have the choice not to wear the collar, Amy, but it is highly recommended you listen to your doctor’s advice.” he answered emphatically, “However, once you agree to wear it, it won’t be removed without my permission.”
“Fine.” she accepted, defeat in her voice. Laura stepped behind Amy and fitted the collar around her neck with a click; the lining soft against her skin. “Is this everything?” the girl asked, feeling her new accessory with her fingers.
“Almost. There is just one other thing I would like to do today.” said Doctor Conseil. “Take these cards and read them out loud.” he said, pulling out a stack of cards and handing two to Amy. She looked at the card and felt embarrassed.
“My - ahem, sexual attraction to - dogs, is completely okay, a-and I shouldn’t feel ashamed or embarrassed of it.” she said, looking to the doctor for an explanation. The doctor motioned her to read the next one and she did. “Wearing a collar helps me to better - align myself and understand my - lust - for canines.” she managed. Just saying the words made her feel uncomfortable.
“Very good, Amy. In time you will be able to say them with gusto.” Dr. Conseil looked at his watch,” Our time today is up. I would like you to go home and read those cards throughout the week, preferably each morning when you wake up. Please continue your masturbation regimen, you said you did it every night and I would like you to continue at that pace. I will give you another card at our next meeting.” said the doctor, who stood up and returned to his desk. Amy sat there perplexed.
“What about the collar? The session’s over, aren’t you going to take it off?” she said, pulling on it for emphasis.
“I’m afraid not, Amy. Your physical condition doesn’t take breaks and neither should you. The collar will stay on your neck for as long as it will take to cure you.” he smirked, “It’s actually quite a good look for you.”
“This isn’t funny!” she replied. Laura giggled silently, trying not to upset the girl.
“I wasn’t joking.” returned Dr. Conseil, “It shows a true reflection of yourself that will help you immensely in your therapy.”
“It’s embarrassing! I can’t leave like this, what will my housemates say, or my coach, or my parents?” she asked, getting frustrated.
“They will get used to it. There is no reason to be ashamed of your condition, Amy. Shame is just your fear of society. It gives your phobia power over you. You need to confront it in order to move on with your life.” he explained. “The quicker you move through therapy the earlier that collar comes off.”
Amy stood there for a few seconds; she could feel herself turning red at the thought of being seen like this. Laura placed a hand on her shoulder.
“If you would like, I can give you a scarf to wear over the collar until you get home; just until you are more comfortable with it.” Laura offered. Amy appreciated her concern and accepted. She wished she had a coat with a hood to cover her more, but a scarf would do. Laura took Amy by the hand and led her to a room filled with various garments. She was pulled past a menagerie of clothing before stopping at one of many dressers. Laura pulled out one drawer and dug through an assortment of scarves. Amy looked around in awe. It was larger than Dr. Conseil’s office. The walls were eggshell white with mirrors of varying shapes and sizes along them. The floor had been swallowed up by racks of designer-wear, overwear, activewear, dressing gowns, cardigans, sweaters, short-shorts, swimsuits, dresses, nighties, blouses, skirts, t-shirts, tops, coats, gowns, gloves, caps, hats, ties, and ridiculously frilly lingerie, with just enough space to walk between them. Amongst the organised chaos was an empty space in the corner beside a floor-to-ceiling window facing the street. A large, full-length mirror and studio lighting equipment told Amy that there was where Laura would try on outfits. Unsurprisingly, every piece of clothing in Laura’s possession was shorter and thinner than what most women would consider decent, and Amy had wondered why Laura’s fashion sense was so risque.
Amy asked, “I hope you don’t mind if I ask, but why is your wardrobe-”
“So amazing?” Laura cut in, beaming. She had been waiting for the opportunity to gush. “I wear these clothes because it helps me to be my truest, sexiest self. Lucius taught me that.”
“Lucius? You mean Dr. Conseil?” Amy asked.
“That’s him.” she chirped. “You know, I was around your age when I met Lucius; at the time he was my therapist. I was sent to him by people who didn’t like the way I expressed myself: the things I did, the clothes I wore, you understand. But Lucius was very accepting of me, even when I was unsure of myself. He was the only person in my life that wanted what was best for me, and encouraged me to follow my desires and to ignore other people’s comments. The things he would have me wear back then made me so nervous..!” Laura paused, before smiling again, “Lucius might seem a tad extreme, but he really knows what he’s doing. He gives his patients the push they need to truly heal and become themselves, not just the way society wants them to be.”
“Maybe for some people, but don’t you think a collar is a bit… much? I look like a bondage fetishist.” the girl asked.
“Not in the slightest!” she laughed, “You’re just nervous. Come here,” she said, pulling the girl to the full-length mirror. “Really look at yourself and admire how beautiful you are.”
Amy looked at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t ugly, but she had never really been given much attention for her looks. Being so busy with school and training made it difficult to socialise with other girls, let alone boys. Some had asked her out before, but she brushed it off as boys being horny idiots.
“I look fine.” Amy said.
“Fine?” Laura gasped, “Amy, I am not just saying this to be polite. You have the face of a model.”
Amy looked at her with suspicion, “Are you serious?”
“You look positively Rompaey-esque, just on a shorter, more athletic frame. Please don’t be insulted, but you really are tiny. You must be, what, five-foot tall?” Laura quizzed.
“I wear chunky shoes,” said Amy, “I’m really four-foot-ten barefoot.”
“Your proportions suit you astoundingly well, Amy. Have you ever considered modelling? There is a market for shorter models, you know.”
“I don’t really know about all that.” the girl answered, though the idea was intriguing.
Amy looked again in the mirror, this time removing her jacket. She did a full turn, appreciating the studio lights which accentuated her figure. She had small B cup breasts, which she wasn’t ecstatic about, but petiteness is common among gymnasts. Her body shape was boyish, her hips being only slightly wider than the rest of her torso. To her credit, years of gymnastics training had earned her thicker thighs and a larger, more shapely bottom which she was proud of. Her eyes flitted to the collar on her neck. It was thick, and took up two inches of her neck. It very much resembled a BDSM collar used by fetishists, which was concerning. At least it didn’t look cheap. It was made of real leather, and the tag was solid brass. The engraving was also a nice touch, it made it seem…. Less perverted, somehow. It might even look nice.
‘Well, for a dog or a pervert.’ she thought to herself. Amy couldn’t help but feel strange with it on her neck; perhaps this is how dogs feel the first time they wear a collar. She didn’t want to be seen like this. Laura seemed to find it fashionable, believing it suited her.
“Chokers and collars are very in right now, are you absolutely sure you want to wear a scarf? It really would be better to just go out and bare it, loud and proud.” Laura suggested, but Amy looked hesitant. “Please, just try it, you’ll be surprised what you can do.” she pressed, holding the scarf in her hand.
Amy was conflicted, but talking with Laura had been quite eye-opening, and she felt more confident in her new accessory. Wearing a scarf would just delay her progress, and time wasn’t on her side. Laura could see the shift in Amy’s demeanour, and tucked the scarf back into its drawer with a smile.
Amy felt slightly better about her collar after talking with Laura, and agreed to swallow her shame and go home with it exposed. She said her goodbyes to both Laura and Dr. Conseil before stepping out of the front door. As she walked she began to regret her choice, feeling the looks from everyone around her. The looks became stares as she waited in line at the bus stop, which made her go an increasing shade of red. She sat at the back of the bus to avoid any more attention, hiking the neck of her jacket to try and cover up, but it wasn’t very effective.
After getting off the bus, Amy considered taking the shorter route, even if that meant being near her neighbour’s mastiff, but she still wasn’t ready to be near a dog, especially not in her currently embarrassed state. She took the longer route, going around bystreets and jumping the back garden fence into her dorm house. From there she beelined to her room before collapsing on her bed. She felt such a rush wearing her collar in public like that, her whole body was on fire. She felt shame, panic and a need to unwind. She stripped down to nothing but her collar and dived beneath her covers to rub herself to what she knew would be a very intense orgasm.
After masturbating all week to bestiality porn, her thoughts now went directly to dogs whenever she touched herself. Her fears played into her fantasies: the big bad doggy taking her poor defenceless sex. Human men didn’t cross her mind at all as she rubbed her pussy, and she had never been more wet. It was so arousing to be so shameless, her free hand was gripping her collar, always reminding her to keep her thoughts canine only. Her clit swelled as she beat it with her middle and ring fingers, occasionally entering herself. The collar added a new layer to her sexual transformation which pushed her over the edge. Her thoughts became a blur, as if the collar was restricting the blood from her brain and preventing her from having any morals. She came hard, squirting all over her bed sheets underneath her duvet, and flattened with exhaustion.
‘This collar isn’t so bad’ Amy thought to herself in her afterglow.
