Chicken Soup for the Horny Soul

Dr. Samantha Anand is, by Sophia's estimate, one of the best female therapists in the city... and apparently that was an important part for her to find a therapist who didn't ogle her tits whenever she went in for a meeting. We arrive in the office complex just ten minutes shy of Sophia’s meeting time after I drive us there in her car. She rests most of the ride in the passenger seat, doing her best to hide her chest from any drive-by gawkers. When at last we find the right door within the complex, it looks shadier still: the good doctor's name is spray-painted on with some kind of stenciling, as if it were a placeholder for a more professional signage. But it's the right name, and Sophia isn't objecting, so I suppose we're here. I turn to regard Sophia and her... outfit.

As the new rule demands, albeit without her knowing why, she now wears a defaced skirt we had to cut down to just ten inches--of course she didn't actually own any ten-inch skirts--and left it with a rough black edge that now rides up on her thighs. Even now she tugs down on its scissors-ruined hem. She also wears no bra now; rather doomed to wear a top of some risqué nature, our experiments find that her more sheer tops, which just barely show those puffy lumps through them, are capable of qualifying for the rule. Now instead of having to wear everything so low she's stuck nip-slipping, she's just stuck wearing outfits that would be absolutely doomed by sudden lactation... and for so many reasons, I'm still calling it a win.

For now, at least, she's presentable. Between the cold shower and me keeping my hands off her, her nipples finally managed to calm down enough to both soften and stop drizzling everything around her with milk. Whether they stayed dry for the duration of this meeting remains to be seen.

“This is the one, right? Is this your therapist?”

“Yes...” Her features are demur, her eyes cast downward as she follows me. She's been defeated, after all... and that’s taking time for someone like Ms. Lia to accept.

I open my phone once I know she can’t see it; sure enough, amid the myriad women in this building and in range, I find one Samantha Anand with a small collection of options. Despite having the app for a week now, it seems the variety of options depends more on when the app gets in range of them rather than how long I've used it; Ms. Anand's list is comparable to, or even shorter than, Ms. Lia's was on the first day of Custom Girls.

All her advice is taken as good, sound, and healthy by non-User patients: 15 gems.
She'll suggest sex as the means to solve every conflict or personal issue: 45 gems.
She'll promote a chauvinistic view of men knowing what's best for women: 20 gems.
Her face causes high sexual arousal in anyone who sees it, User optional: 30 gems.
Her breasts increase to DD-cups: 5 gems.
Her body becomes an instrument for therapy for her, User, and/or others as User wishes: 20 gems.
Her ass grows in size: 2 gems.
She encourages or accepts nudity for all parties for the duration of any therapy session: 20 gems.
User can call on her for therapy for himself or others without complaint from any party: 10 gems.
Accepts or encourages consensual sexual acts committed within a therapy session: 5 gems.
Hotkey: submit sexually to the nearest patient during a therapy session (1/day): 80 gems.

Well, short... but crazy. Finding the right, affordable combination is going to be challenging. I "only" have 92 gems, after all. Seeing the possibilities here, I'd definitely want to come back to dear Dr. Anand... though without seeing her, I'm not sure I want to be one of her patients...

SAMANTHA ANAND
Sound Advice
Sex Solves Everything
Nude Therapy
On-Call Doctor
TOTAL COST: 90 OK?

So now she'll probably get most people at least thinking about sex during therapy, I can use her on other girls, and... wait a minute, I don't really need nudity for that, right? Besides, what if she's far from something I want to see?

SAMANTHA ANAND
Sound Advice
Sex Solves Everything
On-Call Doctor
Consensual Therapy
TOTAL COST: 75 gems. OK?

As modified, I register my eighth Custom Girl just before opening the office's front door for my dear Ms. Lia.

The waiting room is far more like those of my doctor's than I would've imagined for what is supposedly one of the best therapist in town. Simple, dingy wooden frames and stiff green cushions make up all the chairs, benches, and reading furniture of this place. The bookshelf is mostly brochures and magazines; the floor is some cream-colored lamination older than me or possibly the sour-looking receptionist behind the tiny porthole window where Sophia announced her presence. Even the door fixtures have obvious tarnishing where they aren't showing outright rust. This is, in a word, a dump.

We're in the waiting room for less than half an hour before footsteps signal someone's approach from the office's innards. Until then, Ms. Lia and I were on our best behavior: I idly read some garbage socialite magazine while she gazed into the Abyss, far and away from this bizarre new place in her life. It's the only way we can stay functional before getting into the therapist's office, and it's a godsend the receptionist only have enough questions to be left a bit red in the face after hearing Ms. Lia's newly-enchanting voice.

Then the door swings open and a peaceful-looking old woman is revealed to us. She pulls me out of my reading as I soak in her details: pale flesh hanging from her bones, milky eyes magnified behind coke-bottle glasses, and teeth, or what remained of them, glinting in the artificial light of the tiny, humble lobby. I fear the worst as I see her... until she shuffles towards the exit into the hallway and reveals she isn't the therapist here. The woman behind her, meanwhil, makes me rethink my purchases.

Dr. Samantha Anand is not "pretty," in a sense, but something more akin to "exotic" (is that racist? It might be racist.). Although she must be in her late 20's at least, she looks shockingly young, young enough to be in my class even. Her eyes are prisms of green and blue that dance in striking lines across each iris. Her hair is a mess of copper and black twisted into curls that her headband sweeps backwards, but it frames her bold features and large eyes perfectly. Full lips smile under a large, but fitting nose, and a lithe neck goes down into the full, slightly chubby body of this petite woman of some kind of Middle Eastern origin: curves upon curves can't hide behind her humble outfit of a navy-blue turtleneck and professional-length black skirt, and my mind is quickly scrambling both for my prepared excuse to attend and a means to get the three gems I need to adjust how this'll go.

“Good afternoon Ms. Lia, and...?”

“H-He's my... student.”

“Ah... did he drive you here then? That's nice.”

My worrying comes to a sudden stop. How'd I forget what I just bought? I don't even need an excuse, now. “I'm... going to attend. This is now going to be a therapy session for both of us... as a couple.”

Now the good Dr. Anand no doubt would say no, and Sophia would probably doubt my cocksure scheme... but as parties to the proposed therapy, neither find a reason to object. “Of... course, Mister...?”

“Haines... you can call me Dave, though.”

The therapist smiles, but doesn't pick up on my clumsy attempt to flirt. Ah well...