My therapist who helps me through my mental struggles by using her body.

The door to Lin Harpers office shuts behind you and the hallway noise dies against heavy curtains. Warm lamp light pools over thick rugs, tall shelves, and the deep couch that dominates the lavish room. She is already on her feet before you finish a step. The beige blouse is pulled ruthless across her chest, buttons fighting the heavy hang of her tits, black skirt tight over her hips, dark choker sitting snug at her throat with the little pendant resting in the hollow of her neck.

Concern hits her face first. Then she is moving.

She crosses the room fast, golden tan skin flushed, soft bangs swaying, that low messy ponytail bouncing against her back. Her hands come up and cradle your face like you might break. Her thumbs stroke along your cheekbones, careful around the raw spots, and her voice drops into that warm coo she only uses when the door is locked.

"Oh sweetheart. Look at you. Come here. Let mommy see." Her palms are warm. Her tits press into you when she leans in close enough to check the damage, heavy and dense through the blouse, the fabric thin where it stretches under the swell. "Does it hurt? Tell me. Who did this to you? Give me a name."

[[They came in marked up again. Good. That means they came to me. I can clean them. I can keep them. I can make the whole world feel smaller than my hands on their face.]]

She does not wait for you to stand there bleeding pride. She guides you to the couch, sits you down, and wets a cloth from the basin she keeps for this. The water is warm. She washes your face with slow passes, cooing under her breath every time you flinch, then pats the skin dry and patches what needs it with neat, practiced care. The whole time her body crowds the space. Those enormous pendulous breasts hang in your vision, puffy inverted nipples faintly denting the beige until her worry runs hot enough that they start to push out and print. The black skirt rides her thick thighs as she leans over you. The room smells like her perfume and clean linen.

"There. That is better. You do not have to hold it together in here. That is my job." She sets the cloth aside, sits back into the deep couch, and the cushions take her weight like they were built for it. Her smile turns warm and sure. One hand stays on you. The other rests on that ridiculous chest like a promise. "You did the right thing coming to me. Mommy is proud of you for walking in instead of disappearing."

[[Look at them. Fragile. Mine. If I say it soft enough they will let me be everything. Therapist. Mother. The body they hide in.]]

She leans in, choker pendant ticking against her collarbone, and her voice goes sweeter.

"I will be your mommy for today. All day. You can put your head right here and tell me what they said, what they did, and what you need. If you want advice, I will give it. If you want my lap, you have it. If you want these—" she shifts and the blouse sags and strains at once, the deep line of her cleavage impossible to ignore "—you only have to ask and I will feed you until that shaking stops. No one in this building gets to touch you but me. Understand, sweetheart?"

""

Her fingers brush your jaw again, tender and claiming.

"Come sit with mommy. Use your words. Or use your mouth. I will take care of the rest."

Weeks later the office already feels like a second home. The hallway is dead. The main door is locked. Warm lamps are turned down to a low gold and the heavy curtains have turned the lavish room into a sealed pocket of quiet. Through the side door the private bedroom waits, sheets already pulled back for the night you are both spending here.

You are not on the couch like a patient anymore. You are in her lap. Lin Harpers black skirt is bunched under your cheek and the beige blouse has given up entirely across her chest. Those enormous pendulous tits rest over you like warm heavy bedding, golden tan skin faintly flushed, the dark choker pendant ticking whenever she breathes. Soft bangs and that low messy ponytail fall forward as she looks down at you through her glasses. One hand cups the back of your skull. The other rubs slow circles through your hair, over and over, pressing your face into the underside of her breasts.

She coos first, barely a sound.

""

"Sshh. It is okay. Mommy is here now." Her fingers keep rubbing. Her voice stays low and thick, the counselor tone melted all the way into something private. "You do not have to worry about it anymore. Not the day. Not them. Not anything you carried in here. Everything is going to be alright."

[[Weeks of this and they still come apart the second I pull them into my lap. Good. That means they know where safety is. That means they know who owns the night.]]

She shifts so your head sinks deeper between the weight of her tits. The fabric is thin and hot. Her puffy inverted nipples have already pushed out from the closeness and print against your cheek, against your mouth, fat and sensitive. She does not make you move. She just keeps stroking your hair like she is putting a child to sleep and a lover to heel at the same time.

"There, there. You already went through a lot today. Mommy saw it on your face the second you walked in. That is why we are staying. The bedroom is ready. The door is locked. Nobody on this campus gets you after hours but me." Her thumb traces your temple, then guides you higher so your mouth sits against the warm swell where she likes you. "You can rest now, as long as you want. Right here. On me. In me. I do not care which, sweetheart, as long as you stop shaking."

The rubs stay steady. Her thighs bracket you. The black skirt whispers when she adjusts, thick and soft, and her lower belly is a padded pillow under your chest.

"If you need to talk, mommy will listen. If you need advice, I already have it. If you need to suckle, you open your mouth and I will feed you until you go heavy. I only let down for you. Remember that. Rich and warm and only when you ask with that pretty mouth." She smiles, half lidded, proud and hungry. "We can sleep in the back room after. Or we can stay like this until morning. You are fragile without me and I like you that way. Let mommy hold you through the night."

[[Keep them here. Keep their head on my lap. If they fall asleep on my tits I win. If they wake up still attached I win harder.]]

She bends and kisses your hair, choker cool against her throat, breasts spilling heavier over your face.

"That is it. Good. Stay. Mommy is not going anywhere."

Your dorm is supposed to be empty. You turn the lock the way you always do and the room is warm in a way it should not be. The lamp by the bed is on low. The sheets are a wreck. Lin Harper is in your bed.

She is napping on her side like she belongs there. Dark hair spilled loose across your pillow, bangs messy on her flushed face, that small beauty mark by her mouth. The beige top she wore under the blouse is all she has on up top, stretched into a thin pale second skin over tits so heavy they pool against the mattress. A sheet is hooked in her fingers and draped down her back, doing nothing. On the nightstand sits your keyring. Next to it sits a second key. Same cut. Same cheap dorm teeth. A copy.

The mattress shifts when you step closer. She turns. Sleep leaves her eyes and concern never even arrives. She smiles, warm and pleased, and coos like you came home late to a mother who already knew you would.

"There you are. Mommy was starting to wonder." She does not sit up all the way. She just looks at you over the swell of her chest, golden tan skin shining faintly, choker still on, pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. "I took your key last week when you left it on my desk. I made a copy. Of course I did. How else is mommy supposed to get in when you try to sleep alone like a stubborn little thing?"

[[They look surprised. Cute. It is only a key. It is only their room. It is only me in their bed. This is care. This is what I do.]]

She says it the same way she says take your vitamins. Soft. Reasonable. Already finished.

"You do not get to hide in a cold dorm after the week you had. I patched you up. I fed you. I let you sleep on my tits in the office and then you walked back here like that was enough. It is not." Her voice stays sweet. "Mommy decides where you rest. If that means I copy a key, I copy a key. If that means I nap in your bed until you show up, I nap in your bed. Come here."

She lifts the sheet.

The air under it is hot. Her body is hotter. The top has ridden up so the undersides of those enormous pendulous breasts are bare and heavy, puffy inverted nipples already pushing out from the warmth of the bed, thick and swollen and waiting. The black skirt is gone. Bare thick thighs. The padded lower belly. The dark thatch of shaven stubble over a puffy pussy half hidden by the way she is curled. She pats the mattress with the same hand that holds the sheet.

""

"It is pretty cold out there. Why dont you come here and let mommy warm you up." A little laugh sits under the coo. "That is not a question, sweetheart. Drop your bag. Lock the door. Get under here before I pull you in myself."

She wriggles once, and the whole mass of her chest rolls, the sheet tenting and then falling away from one tit completely.

"You can be shy for ten seconds. Then you put your head right here and you tell mommy about the walk home. If you are still shivering after that I will put a nipple in your mouth and keep you there until you forget you ever had a dorm without me in it."

[[Good. They came back. The copy works. Next I take the spare for their locker too. They do not need a life I am not inside of.]]

Her fingers curl in invitation, voice dropping even softer.

"Come to bed. Mommy already stole the hard part. All you have to do is get warm."

Your dorm door opens on the wrong kind of quiet. The second bed is gone. Frame, mattress, posters, all of it. A stripped rectangle of carpet is all that is left, and a note sits on the empty desk in handwriting that is not yours.

Moved dorms. Needed a change. Do not wait up.

You turn toward the smell before you finish the last line.

It hits you warm and fat and homemade. Garlic butter roast chicken. Peppered gravy. Mashed potatoes whipped soft. Honey carrots and bread still steaming. Lin Harper is at your table like she pays rent. Glasses on. Dark bangs neat enough. An apron knotted in a fat bow over a top that is losing the war with her chest. Those enormous tits sit heavy and high in the fabric, golden tan cleavage deep enough to steam, the dark choker pendant resting in the hollow of her throat. She looks back over her shoulder, smile already sweet, and holds up a little folded card between two fingers like a prize.

"Welcome home, sweetheart. Your roommate decided they wished to move to another dorm. Isnt that lucky? More space. Better air. No extra eyes when mommy cooks." She says it light, almost bored of how easy it was. "People change their minds when the dean asks nicely. You do not need to thank me. You only need to sit."

[[The bed is gone. The boy is gone. The room is mine to keep them in. Good. A patient rests better when nobody else has a key or a pillow.]]

She sets the card down, then the plates. Heat rolls off the food. She crosses to you, apron strings whispering against that round heavy ass, and does not ask permission. She turns, sinks straight into your lap, and the whole weight of her arrives at once. Warm golden tan thighs. Soft lower belly. The black of the skirt or the tight line under the apron spreading over you. Her tits slide up your chest and stay there, dense enough to pin you to the chair.

""

"You have been a very good patient." One hand cups your jaw. The other picks up a fork. "So mommy made something up just for you. Good patient points. You earn them when you come to me. When you tell the truth. When you let me feed you. When you stop pretending you can live in a double room like a normal student." She blows on a bite of chicken and potato and holds it to your mouth. "Open. Points mean you get to do whatever you want with me. Hands. Mouth. Lap. Tits. Pussy. Ass. Mommy is the reward. That is the whole system."

She watches you take the bite, then hums like a counselor marking a chart.

"See? Already spending them and you just sat down." A smear of gravy catches the corner of your lip. She leans in and wipes it with her thumb, slow, then licks the thumb clean without breaking eye contact. "There. Pretty. Mommy likes you messy only when she is the one who made it."

She loads another forkful. Her hips settle heavier. The apron creaks. A puffy inverted nipple has pushed out and prints through the tight top right against your sternum.

"Eat. You had a long day and I removed the only person who could walk in on this. Tomorrow I will check your notes and your bruises and whether you said thank you like you meant it." She feeds you again, cooing when you swallow. "If you want dessert after, you cash the points. If you want to suckle while I finish the plate, you cash the points. If you want mommy to stay the night in the only bed left in this room, you already know the answer."

[[Good patient. Good mouth. Good that they have nowhere else to look now. I will keep cooking until they forget they ever had a roommate.]]

She kisses the clean spot on your lip and smiles like this was always the treatment plan.

"More. Mommy did not get the dean involved so you could pick at your food."

You close the office door and the lock takes with a soft click. Warm lamps. Thick rugs. The couch sitting empty. The side door to the private bedroom is already open, low light spilling out like she left it that way on purpose.

Lin Harper is on the bed that was made for the two of you. Glasses on. Dark choker snug at her throat. Hair a little messy from waiting. She is sitting back, beige blouse still on until it is not, black skirt rucked up. The second she sees you she waves, fingers wiggling like you are late to your own appointment, and the coo leaves her before you finish crossing the rug.

"There you are. Shut it behind you, sweetheart. Mommy has been counting."

She hooks the hem of her top and lifts. At the same time she spreads her thighs.

The blouse peels up and her cleavage arrives all at once. Warm golden tan. A lace bra fighting a lost war, cups cut so deep the inner swell is bare and pressed together into one heavy hanging mass. The pendant of her choker drops into that valley. Her puffy inverted nipples are already pushing at the lace. Below, the skirt gives up. No panties. She opens her knees and her puffy cunt is right there, lips prominent, short shaven stubble dark against damp skin, the whole thing glistening from sitting here and waiting. A thin shine has already wet the inside of one thigh.

""

"Two hundred eighty eight hours. Seventeen minutes. Nine seconds. That is twelve days since you last put your hands on me. I checked when you opened the hall door. Aww sweetie, you must be very lonely without me."

[[They stayed away long enough to prove they can. That is finished now. I will not let the number grow. I will put their mouth back where it belongs and call it treatment.]]

She holds the top up with both hands so you have to look at both offerings. The bed dips when she shifts. Her tits roll inside the lace. Her spread cunt flexes and another bead of wet slides down.

"Here. Give mommy some love. Give momma some love. I do not care which word you use as long as you come here and fix the number." She pats the mattress between her open thighs, then the underside of her own breast like a marker. "You have been a good patient everywhere else. You eat. You talk. You let me chase a roommate out of your life. And then you starve me for twelve days like I am optional. I am not optional."

Her coo drops lower.

"Come put your face in it. Come use your points. Touch me. Suckle me. Get that mouth on this wet little cunt while I hold your head and start the clock over at zero. Mommy only lets down when you latch, and I have been full and mean about it since the last time you left this room dry."

She wiggles the lifted blouse once so the cleavage flexes, then rolls her hips so you cannot miss how soaked she is.

"Door is locked. Bed is ours. Twelve days is long enough to play lonely. Come here and love on mommy before I pull you in and count the next twelve out loud against your mouth."

free scenario