FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A Little Examination

You sit on a small couch, adjusting the wrinkles of your jeans as you look up at the therapist. You don't really remember having scheduled this appointment, but despite that, it feels right to be in the chair. It feels comfortable, cushioning you when you try and shift your position around. Still, it isn't like you need to work to get comfortable, unlike your therapist must. After all, who could get comfortable in normal furniture if they had a tail at least a dozen feet long and a hood as wide as their armspan?

"So, have you been keeping up with your journalsssss?"

Immediately you nod. Your journals. How could you have forgotten about them? They were important. You aren't sure why, but they are.

"Good, good. I trusssst that you've been honessst in them?"

"Yes, sir," you say. "Just like you told me."

"Exssssellent. I'm sssssure you're making real progressss with all our sssesssionssss."

You feel the same. It's strange, because you don't remember being here before, but the therapist said it, so it must be true. You nod your head, trying to get a handle on the strange feeling that you have that something is wrong.

The naga therapist leans forward, sliding off of his special couch and gently pats your head.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," you say. "I'm just...."

"Confussssed?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry, I can fix that."

"How?"

"Hypnossssissss, of coursssse."

You blink as he reaches into his jacket, removing a pocketwatch. It seems so ludicrous that your therapist already has that in mind. After all, wasn't this your first -

Eleventh -

Hundredth -

• session with him? How could he have the ability to hypnotize you already? There wasn't any trust yet.

Despite your confusion, the watch is already swaying, swinging back and forth as the naga looks into your eyes. You find yourself drawn to the strange colors glimmering off of the edge of the pocketwatch, your eyes following it back and forth. It is so shiny, you think, but it's just a watch, of course.

As you watch the watch, you hear a soft hissing sound. You guess that it's probably the therapist, and you find yourself wishing that he was less of a serpent, more of a mammal. With all the hissing, it's difficult to tell just what he's saying, but you suppose it doesn't matter. You're supposed to be watching the watch, after all, and that's what you're doing.

It is getting harder and harder to hold your eyes open, however, particularly as the metal seems to swirl with colors. Your focus gets tighter, but it's so very hard to think of anything else. That hissing continues, a soft tone that keeps buzzing at the edge of your attention, and you focus harder on the watch to try and tune it out.

The golden color has since disappeared, replaced by strange green, red, and blue swirls that dance along the watch. Even stranger, you could have sworn there was only one pocketwatch, not two. Still, you wanted to give this a shot, so you keep watching them anyway, turning your head to follow them as they bounce rather than sway.

You feel strange, as though it's impossible to see anything else. Did the naga turn the lights off? He must have, because all you can see are the strange color swirls dancing in front of you. He hasn't said anything else, so you keep watching, your eyes glued to the only things you can see. Even the feeling of scaly hands running down your chest and over your legs aren't important.

It seems cold for a moment, but only until something warm wraps around you. Bit by bit, it circles you, wrapping around your legs, your crotch, your arms and chest as you circle in place to follow the colored orbs. Soon you are trapped, unable to move, but that's alright. You can still see the colors, after all, and as long as you can see the colors, you're fine.

"Sssssuch a good patient."

The therapist's voice. It is so soft, so very quiet, but you don't mind. Particularly as a hand strokes your head, and then a little lower.

Then the lights go out, and -

You blink, looking around. The therapist is on the couch again, his jacket slightly ruffled, but no worse for wear. You feel a little drained, but that's it.

"There, with a little hypnossssisss, you are jussst fine. How do you feel?"

"Great, sir," you say with a smile.

"Wonderful."

Just for a moment, you think you see his eyes flicker in color, but you dismiss it. That would be impossible, story-book like. Then again, so is the strange soreness in your behind. You thought the chairs were supposed to be comfortable, but now...

The therapist leaned forward again, his hands clasped together.

"So, let's talk about your journals."

The End