Therapy

Author's Note: Hey there, I just felt like I should add a little note for this story! So this storyline's going to be... a little bit different, both in premise and presentation. I know these stories aren't exactly known for being hyper realistic, but I feel like this one goes even further into unrealistic territory than most. As will probably be quite apparent, I have no real knowledge about psychology, psychiatry, or anything of the sort. As a result, you can safely assume that whenever I mention anything remotely scientific or relating to a person's brain: I have no idea what I'm talking about. (Especially with the hypnotherapy. I'm sure it's nothing like this.) Everything was completely made up to tell a (hopefully) entertaining story. So, if you like it, that's great! But if you don't, that's totally understandable, I'm just trying out something kind of different. Thanks for reading!

Mackenzie sat in the waiting room, dreading how the next hour of her life was going to go. Her parents, frustrated and ashamed by Mackenzie's repeated humiliating antics, had her to do this. They had been totally sympathetic after her harrowing prom ordeal, but that sympathy had greatly diminished when Mackenzie had shown up to her own graduation party naked a few weeks later. And when they got the call that they had to come pick their daughter up from the local mall after she'd been caught "streaking," any remaining sympathy completely evaporated. They now believed that Mackenzie was pulling these nude stunts on purpose, despite her pleas to the contrary. And so, to help cure her of these exhibitionist escapades, they had insisted Mackenzie see a therapist.

And that was how Mackenzie found herself downtown in a large building complex, seated in the waiting room of a psychiatric center. It hadn't been too long of a wait so far, but to the redhead it felt like a waste of her entire afternoon.

I can't understand why everyone thinks I'm doing these things on purpose! she thought. But after a few moments she conceded, Okay well maybe I can see why some people think that... But even my family?! God it's so humiliating. Now I have to see a therapist who won't be able to do anything for me, if they even believe me!

"Mackenzie?" a woman said, appearing in the doorway. "Right this way, please." Mackenzie followed her, a short middle-aged woman with curly brown hair, into one of the rooms down the hall. Mackenzie sat on a big couch and the woman sat on a chair facing her. "My name's Phoebe. It's nice to meet you."

"Mhm," Mackenzie mumbled. After waiting a moment to see if Mackenzie would say anymore, the therapist continued.

"So I understand you've been having some problems involving nudity in public," she said bluntly. Mackenzie blushed and begrudgingly nodded. "So, how would you care to describe these... let's call them incidents?"

"Well first of all, they're not my fault," the redhead said immediately. "I'm not doing any of these things on purpose. I don't want to keep winding up naked in front of everyone! It just happens!"

"I see," Phoebe said as she jotted down some notes. "Would you care to give me an example of one of these incidents? Walk me through it?"

"Gladly. How about my prom? That's the clearest example of them all. Two b-, I mean, two girls who really hated me got me onstage, tied me up, and cut off all my clothes. Then, they opened the curtains and showed me off to my entire school!"

"Okay. And what about the video?"

"The video?" Mackenzie's heart sank as she realized that this woman knew about the video too. Her parents must have told her.

"From what I understand, they also displayed a video of you in an... embarrassing situation, seemingly enjoying yourself."

Mackenzie blushed deeply. They had also shown the humiliating video of the naked redhead being spanked in a movie theater's restroom. And, to make matters worse, Mackenzie had been moaning and shouting "Harder!" the entire time. But that had only been because Pauline and Cynthia had her to do that! It wasn't real!

"Th-that was... a staged video. I wasn't actually enjoying myself!"

"Mhmm..." Phoebe said as she wrote another note to herself. "I think I've got a decent picture of it all now."

Mackenzie didn't like the way the woman seemed to be framing things. And she liked it even less when Phoebe looked up at her thoughtfully for several long, silent moments.

"I'd like to a perform a little experiment," Phoebe said. "Does that sound alright with you?"

"I guess..."

"I'd like you to get undressed for me."

"Wh... what?!" Mackenzie could hardly believe what she'd heard. "Y-you can't be serious. Do I really have to?" Phoebe simply stared back at her and said nothing, as if waiting. After several more seconds, Mackenzie finally let out a deep sigh of defeat. She was, unfortunately, getting used to these types of situations happening to her. "Fine."

Blushing, Mackenzie stood up and slowly began pulling off her t-shirt, baring her plain white bra to the woman. She folded the shirt neatly and placed it on the coffee table in front of her. Then, after kicking her shoes off, she unbuttoned and unzipped her khaki shorts, slipping them off her legs and presenting her yellow panties to the room. Both articles of her underwear soon followed, exposing Mackenzie's large breasts and clean shaven womanhood. Her bra, panties, and even her socks were folded up and stacked on the table, leaving a small pile of everything Mackenzie had just been wearing a minute ago. Mackenzie sat back down on the couch, completely nude, and demurely covered her breasts and pussy with her arms.

"Happy?" Mackenzie said with a blush and a pout.

"Mmm," Phoebe mumbled, quickly writing more notes. The most notable being:

-Mackenzie only had to be asked once before submitting to being undressed. Provided only minor protest.

-I said "undress," not specifying how much, and she took that to mean completely nude.

-Both further signs that she looks for opportunities to remove her clothing in front of others and may even be in denial of these practices.

"Great!" Phoebe said, glancing up at Mackenzie again. "Now let me ask you a few questions. If you had to rate your anxiety right now, on a scale of 1 to 10, what would it be?"

"Uh..." Mackenzie thought for a moment. A year ago she would have easily rated this a 10. But a lot had happened to her over the past several months. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, she was becoming more used to this type of thing, if only barely. "I guess an 8."

"Okay. And what if I do this?" Phoebe leaned forward and scooped up the pile of Mackenzie's clothes. She sat there, holding them in her arms.

"Still an 8?" Mackenzie replied, not knowing how that made any difference.

"Mhm. And what about this?" Phobe stood up and walked over to her desk. Beside it was a small safe, mostly filled with documents. She entered the combination and slipped Mackenzie's clothes inside before loudly closing the door. "Now your clothes are completely out of your reach. You couldn't retrieve them even if you wanted to. What level's your anxiety now?"

"Uh..." Mackenzie felt her heart begin to beat faster. What Phoebe had said was getting to her. "A 9."

"And finally, what if I ask you to keep your arms at your sides?"

"Uh!" Mackenzie hesitated for a moment before slowing moving her arms away, baring herself completely. "A 10!" It was safe to say this therapy session was NOT going how Mackenzie had thought it would.

"Great!" Phoebe jotted down the numbers, leaving Mackenzie to awkwardly sit there nude, her heart racing. "So, Mackenzie. Here's what I think is going on. Whether you mean to or not, you're putting yourself into situations in which you wind up exposed in public. Now you're claiming that none of these incidents is purposeful, but I've already seen evidence to the contrary. I think that, deep deep down, you've got exhibitionist urges, potentially even as a result of that first embarrassing prom experience."

Mackenzie didn't bother confiding in Phoebe that her first truly humiliating exposure had been even earlier than that, on a date at the mall.

"And, even though you're clearly resisting those urges, they still bubble up to the surface from time to time. I believe you when you say that you truly think you're not doing these things on purpose, but I think your subconscious may tell a different story."

Mackenzie's hopes of this woman believing her, low as they had been, diminished to nothing.

"Now, what I'd like to do is work with you on two things. First, I'd like to delve deeper into some of your memories in order to try and pinpoint the triggers that lead to these events. If we can figure out what's causing these urges for you, we have a very good chance of being able to make them go away eventually. Second, I'd like to help you get more comfortable with being nude. Part of the reason being exposed in front of people is so exciting for you is because it feels thrilling and taboo. The more we can diminish those feelings, the less your subconscious will see exposing yourself as an enjoyable experience. So, what do you think?"

Mackenzie remained silent for a few seconds before she replied. "I think you're dead wrong. There is no part of me, conscious or subconscious, that enjoys these 'incidents.'" She couldn't help but feel her heart flutter slightly at that thought. Wasn't that a lie? Didn't a part of her, deep down, enjoy the danger of nearly being exposed? But that was different. And no way was she telling the therapist about that! "What I'd like is for these incidents to stop happening altogether!"

"Well, if we're successful, then that's exactly what should happen."

"Wait, really?"

"Yes. If your subconscious no longer has these urges then you'd feel no desire to be exposed. I'm 100% confident that you wouldn't have any more incidents. How does that sound?"

That gave Mackenzie pause. That was her dream! To stop getting exposed and embarrassed all the time! To have a normal life again! But, she had to remind herself, she's assuming that I'm somehow causing all these problems. Which I'm not! ...Am I?

"I don't think it'll work," Mackenzie said. "But what have I got to lose? My parents are forcing me to come here every week anyway. May as well give it a shot."

"Excellent!" the therapist replied, beaming. "Then I'll create some plans and we can get started in earnest next week. Mackenzie, I think we've got a really good shot at solving these problems for you, once and for all."

"I hope so. I really do." Mackenzie said with a sigh. Phoebe smiled back at her.

"Well, that should do for today's session. I'll see you next week!" Mackenzie stood up and Phoebe went back to writing down more notes.

"Uh," Mackenzie said after a few awkward seconds. "Could I get my clothes back?"

"Oh! Oh of course!" Phoebe said, smacking herself lightly on the forehead. "How could I forget? So sorry! I guess I just got too used to seeing you without clothes on!" She chuckled at that as she walked back over to the safe. She entered the combination and turned the handle, but the door didn't budge. She tried tugging on it a few more times with no success. "Ugh, sorry. It gets a little stuck sometimes." Finally the door swung open, and Phoebe handed Mackenzie her clothes back. The naked redhead wasted no time in redressing, then excused herself.