Thursday, November 12, 2020

Countertransference - A #KinkyScribble

 Lately I've got a few writing projects, that are big, and ambitious, and consequentially difficult to start.  The hardest thing when beginning a long journey, is to take that first step.  

When I'm feeling overwhelmed, I often turn to a #KinkyScribble.  Everyone seems to have their own take on the rules for them, but for me it looks like this:

  • Put out a call on Twitter for followers to submit simple story prompts
  • Pick whichever prompt feels the most inspiring
  • Write a 300-1000 word story, limited to one sitting for writing, one sitting for editing
I got lots of suggestions this time around, and decided to go with a prompt from Undersquid, who I have often found inspiring.


681 words

Tags: F/f, dubcon, noncon, mental health, gas lighting

“If you’re ready, then let’s begin.  When was the first time you saw it?”

Catherine sighed, gripping a cup of hot chamomile in trembling hands.  “Was it two weeks ago?  Three?  Probably more like two and a half now.  I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.  You’re safe here.  Just relax, take a deep breath, and slow down.  Tell me, what did you see?”

“Eyes, glinting in the dark.  By my bedside table.”  She lay back into the big cushy chair, forcing herself to  remember.  “I’d heard something.  Like a mouse, scurrying along.  But not the right rhythm for a mouse, if you understand.  I thought I was just being paranoid, like always happens.  But then I looked, and I could see the glow of streetlight in their eyes, could see the outline of their face.”

“Then you turned on the lights.”  From her seat just behind Catherine’s shoulder, her therapist shifted.  “What did you see then?”

“A leg.  Definitely a human leg.  Disappearing behind the lamp.  Thought I must be going crazy.  I searched and searched and couldn’t find anything.  Must’ve been seeing things, I said, but two nights later, the next time I tried to… when I was… um.  Well.  When I did the same activity, she came back.”

“I see.  The same… activity.”

Catherine shut her eyes, holding the mug to her chest for support.  “Do I have to say it?”

She sensed her therapist lean in closer behind her.  When the woman spoke, her voice was gentle.  “I think it would be healthy for you, yes.”

In the corner, the  grandfather clock ticked away.  She felt each beat in the pit of her stomach, felt her body vibrate with the force of it.  She swallowed.  “I was… touching myself.”

“I see.”  The sound of a pen making a short mark on a clipboard.  “Thank you for admitting that.  And tell me, what did you see that night?”

“I got a better look.  I saw tiny fingers wrapped around my light cord.  They had wild black hair.  Tiny lips, painted red, curled up in a smile.  They were watching me.  WATCHING!  Enjoying the show.  I’m sure of it, I’m sure!”

The therapist clucked her tongue.  “That confirms my diagnosis.  Classical hysteria, manifesting through poorly mediated libido drive.  Likely stemming from sexual shame in early childhood brought on by overbearing parents.  Tell me about your mother.”

“No doctor!  It was real, I swear!  I knew you wouldn’t believe me, that no one would believe me.  That’s why the third time, I set a trap.”

“Oh dear.  Denial, retreat into fantasy.  I’m afraid we have our work cut out for us.”

“I almost caught her the third time.  I made sure to go really slow with myself.  Make lots of, um, you know, noises.  Put on a… a show for her.  And I knew they were there, I could hear them breathing.  I waited, waited until they got close.  Then, BAM!  I flipped on the lights, grabbed the little goldfish net I bought, and… oh boy, they looked so surprised!”

“I’m certain.”

Catherine sank back into her chair.  “But I spent too much time looking at them.  She was so pretty, and delicate.  Hair, neat and combed this time.  Bright green eyes.  Older than I expected.  They looked wise, and friendly, and….”  She laughed nervously.  “Now that I think, she looked like… you.”

“I see you’re having a breakthrough,” her therapist replied.  Catherine could actually hear the woman’s lips curling into a smile.  “But your time is up.”

Catherine tried to rise from her seat.  Her clothes were so heavy, the mug in her hands growing too big to hold.  She heard her therapist stand, and with slow, languid movements, the giantess came to stand before her.  Three times her size.  Then four.  Green eyes twinkling, with glee, and malice.

“I’m afraid I’m too close to this case to continue treatment.  Yet another case of countertransference.”  The woman opened her purse.  Catherine found herself still shrinking as she was lifted.  “Thankfully, with our professional relationship terminated, we can explore other options.”