Captain Carter's Therapy Session 2

PEGGY

This couldn't be happening.

I was standing in Dr. Manning's bathroom, wearing a skimpy cheerleader outfit, and he was asking if everything was alright. If I needed any help.

The fetish wear fit perfectly, and by that, I mean that it wasn't too tight or too baggy. The skirt was ridiculously small. Any high schooler doing gymnastics in this thing would have been flashing half the crowd every few seconds. And the area around the bust...

I'd had trouble, after I was first injected with the serum, adjusting to my new body. I was taller and stronger, and that meant I had to be careful. But with the bigness, had also come a level of...voluptuousness, that I hadn't been comfortable with at first. Before the injection, I had been a dark and cold woman, who **** the military men I had to deal with regularly to treat me with respect.

After the serum, I had felt...uncomfortable. I was no longer able to blend into the shadows or to duck out of any conversation. I was always the focus of attention, the tall, busty brunette, the epitome of human fitness. I loved my costume of course, I loved displaying the flag of my home. But the red and white and blue had also made me feel like I might be too gaudy, too colorful. Like I wanted the attention, like I had been dressing up not to inspire patriotism but to make men desirous of me. I remembered more than one soldier on the frontlines treating me as if I was...entertainment. Or worse...one of the whores who fawned over a man in a uniform.

This absurd excuse for a uniform brought back all those insecurities. My breasts were far too exposed in it. One wrong move and I would end up flashing my therapist. And then he would tell Hill that I was turning into some kind of exhibitionist. Or that I always had been.

"Captain...is everything alright in there?" He called again.

Bloody hell. I couldn't keep him waiting forever. Best just to get this over with. Then I could be back in my regular clothes and forget this ever happened.

"I'm fine!" I called out, in a much more girlish voice than I had intended to use. Damnit, Peggy, get it together. You had faced down aliens and gods. You could handle this.

But he would know...that the clothes were a perfect fit. It wasn't fair. They weren't mine. I hadn't ordered them. I hadn't dropped them off. Had I? It all seemed so fuzzy now. I didn't like it, it felt like the sharp mind I had always relied on, was coming unraveled.

"Captain, I am going to need you to come out of the bathroom. Now."

I wilted. I didn't like taking orders from any man, but I couldn't stay here forever and let fear rule my life. Dr. Manning was trying to help me and my fear was probably screwing up his whole schedule.

I pushed open the door and stepped out a little more meekly than I intended. (PEGGY: +7SP)(8SP) I hated the idea of strutting out with my usual gait. He might think I was coming onto him in this getup.

Dr. Manning was leaning against his desk, one hand on his chin. "Well, it certainly looks like yours."

I squirmed. I wanted to defend myself. But at the moment...even I wasn't sure.

"I'll have to get a full look at it. Turn for me, would you Captain, so I can see the back?"

I stared at him in horror. First he asked me to climb into this ridiculous outfit, then he asked me to spin around for him. Like I was some little tart, doing this for his amusement. I opened my mouth to protest and he let out an annoyed huff.

"Captain, I am not asking you to do this because I enjoy it. This is all in the name of improving your mental resiliency and getting to the root of the problem. You want to get better, don't you?"

I looked down at the floor and nodded. Then I began to turn, so he could better inspect by ridiculous skirt. (PEGGY: +5SP)(13SP) Oh, how I hated this. But it was all so I could get better, wasn't it?

"No, slower than that, Captain. I need to be able to get a good look at the hemline."

I paused. He wanted me to go slower? Like I was putting on a show for him.

"Dr. Manning! This is absurd!" I said, turning back to face him. "I am here for my mental evaluation, not to be...ogled at!"

He just sighed again, not in the least bit intimidated. "Miss Carter, you want to get out of this costume and so do I."

I fumed at the implication. Not that I wanted to get back into my civies, but that I wanted to strip down.

"Believe it or not, I get no pleasure from seeing a great woman like yourself reduced to cavorting around my office in an infantilizing get-up."

I blushed again and realized how paranoid I was being. Dr. Manning hadn't made any suggestive comments or touched me inappropriately. Still, a woman had her limits.

"But Dr. Manning, I don't see how-"

The bastard interrupted me. "Miss Carter, if you could stop wasting both of our time, so that we could continue working on your wellness, I would appreciate it."

I nodded slowly. He wasn't the one uncomfortable with this, I was. He was the expert. I wasn't. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could put this whole gigantic mess behind me.

I began to slowly turn, so that he might observe my...ahem, hemline. (PEGGY: +3SP)(16SP) As I turned, I realized what I looked like. A teenage brat. Not a veteran, not a world-renowned hero. A busty tramp in a saucy costume, trying to get this poor man to respect me.

I realized then, as I slowly twirled a few feet from him, that he'd stopped referring to me as "Captain." In his estimation, I had no doubt dropped, the moment he suspected I was some fetish whore.

"Well, there can be no doubt...this dress was made to your specifications, Miss Carter."

There it was again. Captain Britain would never be caught dead wearing something like this, but 'Miss Carter' would.

"But I didn't order it, I tell you. I never paid for it, I never took it to the dry cleaner." I had to defend myself. I was willing to go along with all this strangeness, if it meant getting better. But I wouldn't stand here and have Dr. Manning think I *liked* any of this.

"Miss Carter...I think I've heard enough." Dr. Manning said, moving back around his desk and sitting down. "I'll just have to call Miss Hill and tell her that her suspicions were correct."

I bolted over, grabbing his hand before he could touch the phone. "Wait! No! Dr. Manning please don't do that...this is all so humiliating...I couldn't bear if anyone else knew."

It was already humiliating enough to know that Mariah thought I really was this vapid and sex-crazed.

Dr. Manning looked at my hand with a twinge of fear and I recoiled, realizing what I had just done. I returned to my seat, struggling to find a position where my skirt didn't rise up.

"Please, Dr. Manning...I want to help people and if Mariah thinks I'm going through some kind of mental breakdown...I might never get the chance to do that again." I said, brushing some of my hair out of my face. I tried not to look as defeated as I felt.

The man sighed and closed his fingers together. "Miss Carter, I believe that you would never intentionally hurt someone. And I believe you don't remember commissioning this...outfit."

I blushed and tried not to squirm at the thought of how ridiculous I looked.

"But you did purchase it. You clearly in a state of denial...and the first step to getting better...is to admit it." Dr. Manning said.

I opened my mouth to protest. But I had put on the dress. It had fit perfectly. The test was over. Dr. Manning was convinced and I...I wasn't so sure.

"Fuh-fine. I admit that it's mine." I said, still not sure this was true, but eager to convince my therapist I wasn't as crazy as I felt. (PEGGY: +2SP)(22SP)

"That's not enough, I'm afraid." He said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You clearly are suffering from some kind of sexual repression and until you admit it, I'm afraid I'll have to recommend that you given leave."

"What!?" I jumped to my feet. This whole session had been a little infuriating, but nothing nearly so insulting up until this point. "I certainly am not!"

"Then why did you purchase this outfit, Miss Carter? And why did you bring it to your boss' office? Subconsciously, you must have been trying to express your inner frustrations. Deep inside, you wanted to be accepted for your sexuality."

That all sounded scientific, but the end result was the same. That I was slut and I wanted other people to know it.

"Clearly, this costume you commissioned and had cleaned, represents some deep seated fantasy you have, about the sexual escapades you never got to enjoy in your former life."

I squirmed. "But...I...please..."

He sighed as if dealing with a tiresome child and reached for the phone.

"No! Please...you-you're right, Doctor. I-I am...sexually repressed." (PEGGY: +3SP)(19SP)

Dr. Manning smiled. It was almost a sinister for a moment, then whatever malignant look I must have imagined, seemed to vanish.

"Wonderful! Now we can get down to business." He said, standing up and moving around the desk and towards me. I flushed. This whole thing would be so much easier to explain, if I wasn't wearing this fucking costume.