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“Good morning, lovely men and women!  This is Victor Valentine coming at you with the Hangover Helper morning show!  It’s time for all you late risers to get up and eat some brunch on this sunny Monday!” A charismatic and energized adult male voice cheered.

Belle sat up in bed, grunting in frustration.  “Eleven AM already?”  She lamented her inability to sleep in to a more reasonable hour.  What kind of third worlders have to wake up at eleven?  The young woman sat up, rubbing her eyes before leaning over to turn down her Bluetooth speaker’s volume.  It was still too early for Belle to process large amounts of visual or auditory information.  She fell onto her back with a flop and stared up at the ceiling fan oscillating rhythmically. Technically, she didn’t need to move until eleven-fifteen; Belle required some wake-up time to regain full cognitive function.  At least I can wake up to entertaining radio show bullshit. Belle reasoned optimistically.

“Remember, folks!  Once a month, we give away free concert tickets, gift cards, cash prizes, fancy vacation packages, and more!  Today starts June’s entries, and we’re starting strong,”  Victor cleared his throat.  “First, we have Vanessa and Jeffery Roberts!  A married couple with five children; they live a happy and perfect life together in the three-story house they purchased together five years ago!  However, life isn’t as happy as it seems for the Roberts family.”

“It never is, Victor,” sighed Belle as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to muster up the willpower needed to start her day.  Yesterday’s situation in the bathroom during Jazz night weighed heavily on her mind.  Why did I get so horny?  Masturbating in public wasn’t usual behavior for the young woman.

“Jeffery claims all five of his children aren’t his.  Not only that, but he believes each child belongs to a different one of his five brothers!  We’re bringing them on now and will start with Jeffery’s statement,” continued Victor with a little too much enthusiasm.

Belle’s mind wandered, musing over the previous day’s oddities.  Before long, the rationalizations started.  She was on her period; it was a long day; it had been a couple of weeks since she last had sex with her man.  Every one of these strange occurrences wasn’t so out of the ordinary; there was always a rational explanation. The radio soon distracted her from any pressing worries, calming down, Belle.  There was no reason to dwell on things that didn’t matter; Jeffery and Vanessa screaming at each other on a live broadcast was a better use of time.  She found the ‘Hangover Helper’ radio show to be unfortunately named, reminding her of those nasty Hamburger Helper box dinners.  However, the allure of white trash shrieking at each other while viewers called in to comment was a beloved guilty pleasure for the brunette.

“I guess I should move, huh?”  Belle asked no one in particular, reluctantly shambling out of bed.  She wobbled a little, leaning against the wall as her body woke up.  Muttering about a need for caffeine under her breath, Belle regained her balance and stripped out her boxers and tee-shirt, dropping them to the floor.  Now heading to the bathroom for a shower, Belle winced and moved a hand up to cup her left breast.  They felt a tad more swollen than usual.  Man, this is my worst period since starting birth control.  She didn’t have to worry about bleeding, but cramps and soreness still weren’t unusual.  The brunette massaged each breast with her hands while entering the bathroom.

Belle stepped into the shower and closed the curtain upon getting the temperature just right.  She immediately froze and turned pale.  “Oh, shit…”  She muttered under her breath, letting out an audible groan of frustration.  With great pain, Belle came to terms with the fact she forgot to bring her Bluetooth speaker into the bathroom with her.  Already wet, Belle resigned herself to a fate of showering without the soothing sounds of off-brand Jerry Springer.

“Well, fuck me.” The internet star glanced down at her tits with a roll of her eyes.  She immediately noticed something odd; a little bit of whitish crust around each areola.  “Huh?...”  Belle slipped her hands back up to her well-formed C cup tits, attempting to get a better look at her nipples.  While fondling her moistened mammaries, two painful, electric jolts pulsed through each soft mound.  “Ahh!”  The woman cried out in surprise as the spark moved through her body and left a fuzzy warmth in its wake.  In her state of confusion, Belle’s eyes locked onto a strange, opaque fluid trickling down the round flesh.

“Yo, Belle!!”  Daniella’s voice suddenly yelled.

For the second time in the last fifteen seconds, Belle nearly jumped out of her skin.  She then pulled the curtain aside and glared with an unamused scowl.  As expected, the bathroom door was wide open; Daniella stood in the doorway wearing a pair of black panties and a well-fitting black shirt.

“What???  What do you want!?  I’m showering.  Also, this is the bathroom attached to my room.  Why are you barging into my room and bathroom again?  We talked about this,” stated  Belle in a dull tone.

Daniella gave an exaggerated eye roll in response, placing a hand on her hip.  “We’re besties!  We don’t gotta put up no walls with besties, right?  Chillax and try not to have a fit in the morning.  Besides, we’re both girls.  You don’t got nothin’ I haven’t seen already,” she shrugged, seeing her friend’s request as unreasonable.

“Just…”  Belle let out an exasperated sigh, closing her eyes for a moment.  Just relax.  It’s not worth it.  Finding zen once more, she continued.  “What do you need?  How can I help?”  The brunette forced a sweet smile onto her face.

“So, dude.  I just got home,” said the sassy woman as she took a couple of steps into the bathroom.

With a sniff, the showering brunette wrinkled her nose.  “Yeah, I can tell,” sighed Belle, noting the pungent aroma of skunk weed that permeated the steamy air.  “Can you maybe not get that fucking smell all over my room, by the way?”

“Can you maybe not bitch and nag me for five minutes?  Sophia kills the vibe enough as it is,” Daniella said dully before realizing she might need to try being slightly pleasant. “Sorry, man.  Just-- one of those weekend benders, you know?  It’s stressful shit.  How about you make me some of those chocolate chip pancakes?  You made some for me last time, and they were lit as hell.  Sophia can’t cook for me since she’s crying about puppies at the shelter or something.”  With that, she cast Belle a longing gaze.

“You barged in here and got that stench everywhere, so I’d make you--  never mind.  Sure, I was going to make some anyway.  I’ll be pissed if you don’t grab me something from panda express tonight, though,” reasoned Belle, finding this proposal at least halfway acceptable.  Conveniently, one of Daniella’s friends with benefits happened to work at Panda Express.  She would drive over to pick him up at the end of his shift from time to time so that they could fuck in his car.  If the stars aligned properly, the black-haired harlot would return from her sex adventure with mildly suboptimal Chinese food that had been under a heat lamp for a questionable amount of time.

 “Fiiiiine!!!”  Daniella huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I’ll try to suck dick real good tonight so you can eat some nasty ass orange chicken, okay?”

“We both know you’re going to suck the hell out of that cock regardless of food handouts, but I appreciate it,” Belle stuck her tongue out and shooed her slutty friend before re-focusing on her shower.

Belle slid her hands all over her taut form, lathering herself with lilac-scented body wash.  After a moment, she recalled the strange situation before her friend’s intrusion.  With mild trepidation, she inspected her tits once more.  Both appeared clean.  She honestly had no idea whether her mind was playing tricks on her or not; the water would have washed away the evidence regardless.  Despite her vain attempts to ignore these nagging thoughts, her body’s bizarre sensitivity made this tricky.  As her hands fondled and washed her breasts, they tingled and throbbed dully. She then slipped a hand down to her vulva and was greeted by a sopping wet mess.  Hot, sticky lubricant seeped out from her pink crevice, much to Belle's chagrin.  While cleaning herself, she brushed against her clitoris and let out a lewd cry.  “Oooo…”  A burst of pleasure erupted within the never bundle, washing through her nethers and abdomen.

In this moment of delirium, scattered and unfocused memories flooded her brain.  She could imagine the sensation of two firm, masculine hands gripping each tit and pumping. Belle received no context for this feeling of deja vu, only an adrenaline-filled horniness.  Her mind still foggy, Belle moved a trembling hand down to her swollen labia.

An irrational curiosity filled her.  What if her breasts just needed to be emptied?  Wouldn’t that relieve the pressure?  The concerning part was that this new line of reasoning made no sense.  She wasn’t pregnant; nothing would come out.

All reason lost, Belle fondled her dampened, feminine folds.  The warm, milky pleasure bubbling up within her loins overwhelmed her senses.  Vaguely daydreaming about vigorous breast fondling, she pushed two fingers into her hot slit and brushed against her clitoris.  “Ahh!”  Belle cried out shakily, her legs buckling.  All-encompassing waves of euphoria erupted from the pink nub, spreading out through her pelvis and abdomen.  Losing her footing, Belle leaned against the shower wall and bit her lip in an attempt to muffle the lewd noises flowing from her lips. As the afterglow ended, rationality and logic took root within Belle’s psyche once more.

“What-- the fuck was that?”  Any lingering thoughts of trashy morning shows or needing caffeine dissipated as adrenaline pumped through Belle’s veins. Masturbating in the shower isn’t something I do. Belle ruminated on the scene as she stepped out of the shower to dry and dress.  She still had to make pancakes and get ready for her therapy appointment in a couple of hours; Belle tried her best to oust all mental distractions from her headspace and focus on her day.  Unfortunately for her, the seeds of worry had already been planted.  With a grimace, she recalled Jazz night; her sense of taste seemed a little off at the time.  Not only that, but she reacted strangely to some innocuous art and masturbated in the bathroom.  Now she was pleasuring herself in the shower and having strange, vague fantasies of someone vigorously fondling her breasts.  Where is this coming from? She wondered in confusion.

Belle winced, fastening her bra.  Each tender mammary strained somewhat against the C cups.  It wasn’t too awful but did result in mild discomfort.  So I didn’t imagine it. She realized suddenly that her breasts had gotten a little bigger.  On top of that, her nipples were still harder and more sensitive than she would have liked.  She cast a glance over to the Cowtina statue sitting on her desk; something about it gave her the shivers.  Despite it being an inanimate object, she felt it watching and judging her.  Damn, am I losing my mind?

“See, I TOLD!  Bobby is your son!”  Vanessa screeched from the radio.

“Hold on now, Vanessa!”  Victor interjected.  “I only said none of the five brothers were the father.  According to the DNA test, neither of the five brothers or Jeffery is the father.  However, we also tested the extended male family and found a match with Jeffery’s cousin Greg!”

  Unable to relax and enjoy the ensuing shitshow, Belle grabbed her phone and finished dressing.  She decided on a well-fitting pair of blue jeans and a light blue V-neck top.  Her eyes widened suddenly upon leaving the bedroom; a glimmer of hope appeared amidst the brewing anxiety.  “Oh!!!”  It all made sense now.  Belle grinned and let out a laugh, shaking her head at her lack of sleuthing ability.  A few weeks prior, she had gotten a birth control implant in her arm; the doctor warned that hormonal issues and mood swings might happen as her body adjusted.  Also, there was something about needing to change birth control if she suffered from too many side effects.

Pulling out her phone, Belle took a detour to the living room and flopped onto the couch.  She then pulled up her contacts and placed a call, muttering in annoyance as she navigated the automated menus.  Upon connecting with a real human being, the brunette felt a minor sense of triumph.  “Yeah!  I want to schedule an appointment with Dr. Singh.”

Satisfied with her deductive reasoning and freshly scheduled Thursday appointment, Belle got up and made her way to the kitchen.  She still had a long day of career-building ahead of her, so it was essential to get moving.

Belle sighed, scrolling on her phone as some TLC show about couples trying to purchase two-million dollar homes droned in the background.  Fighting off boredom, she looked away from her screen and scanned the waiting room around her.  A few people sat around the room in faux-leather chairs. The carpet was dull and gray, complimenting the plain, off-white walls adorned with generic paintings of fruit and other inoffensive objects.  “Come on, it’s a one-thirty appointment,” pouted Belle, starting a tweet about how awful waiting rooms were.

“Mama, that lady is really cold,” loudly whispered a young boy sitting a couple of chairs down.

Belle blinked suddenly, turning her eyes to see the child looking at her.  She then looked down and noticed her nipples unceremoniously imprinting upon her well-fitted blue top.  Suddenly humiliated, the woman flushed a deep crimson and wrapped her arms over her chest.  What the fuck!?  I’m wearing a bra for crying out loud. While seething, she also noted how tender her breasts still seemed.

“Leonard, don’t stare at strangers.  Come on,” the boy’s mother finally turned away from her phone and grabbed her son’s arm to pull him closer.

The hallway door swung open as a pale, elderly woman stuck her head into the room. “Mr. Harrison is ready to see you, Miss Moore!”

Oh, thank god, that’s me. Belle got up and scurried down the fluorescently lit hallway.  As she felt her tits calm, the young woman let out a sigh of relief and uncrossed her arms.  Crossing her arms awkwardly for the entire appointment sounded unpleasant and awkward.  Finally reaching her destination, she opened the door and stepped in.

“Good afternoon, Belle!  Please have a seat,” a skinny, older middle-aged man beamed, giving a toothy smile as he gestured for her.

“Yeah, okay.  Good afternoon,” responded the brunette curtly as she took a seat.  Belle folded her hands in her lap and fidgeted, silently wishing she could be just about anywhere else.  “Okay, so…  Like, what do you want me to talk about today?”

“Well, that’s up to you.  I know you don’t want to be here; you told me last time that your father is making you come.”  The man moved a hand up and scratched his scruffy beard.  “I know I’m not a fan of being forced to do something against my will.  As we discussed last time, nothing here leaves the room.  This is all private between you and me.”

Belle let out a frustrated grunt, moving a hand up over her arm while shifting her eyes away.  “Yeah, but I’d still rather not say anything at all, to be honest.”

“I think you might have the wrong idea.  It’s not my goal to extract information from you or force you out of your comfort zone. Whatever you put into it is what you get out when it comes to therapy. If you want to put in just a tiny bit and only get a tiny bit back, I won’t stop you.  I’m not here to lecture you.”  Mr. Harrison responded gently, recalling his first session with her last time.  She had been incredibly defensive, and he hoped he could get her to relax.

“I mean, it kind of sounds like you’re lecturing me already.  You’re basically telling me I’m half-assing things.  That I’m just wasting my time or something,” retorted Belle, casting an unamused look back at the man.  Who unironically wears suspenders and a bowtie?  The woman noted silently, judging the older man’s choice of attire.

Mr. Harrison pondered for a moment.  “Let’s talk about that then.  You feel as though I’m lecturing you.  The last time you were here, you mentioned a similar sentiment with your father;  that he is condescending and likes to lecture you.  Do you often feel like people in your life talk down to you?”

Belle rolled her eyes.  “Dude, everyone is condescending to me.  Maybe people are just like that in general; I don’t know.  I can only speak from my own experience but, from my point of view, most people will jump at the chance to shove their advice and opinions down my throat.   They always think they know me better than I do.  They’ve never been me, but they have the audacity to claim a certain way of life is best.”  Her words grew bitter and resentful as she spoke.

Briefly raising an eyebrow, Mr. Harrison could see he struck a sore spot.  This wasn’t bad, though; she opened up about something and gave insight into how she thinks and perceives the world around her.  It was important to strike while the iron was hot.  “That sounds really frustrating. You know, I actually know exactly how you feel.  Well-- not exactly.  I can’t pretend to know just what you’re thinking and feeling.  But, I can strongly sympathize based on my own experience.”

Oh really, now?  Belle wasn’t buying it.  This man’s spiel sounded like some boomer trying to pretend they relate to the kids of today.  “Oh yeah?”

“My mother is a neurosurgeon, and my father is an executive at a pretty big company.  As the oldest son, I was given the lovely choice between those two paths in life.  I won’t go on with the details, but I’m sure you can imagine how they felt about their son wanting to be a therapist.  There’s a reason I am low contact with both.”

Belle’s visage softened.  Admittedly, it wasn’t hard to imagine Mr. Harrison’s parents shitting all over his dreams.  “Why therapy?”  She asked after processing her thoughts for a minute.

“Hmm…  That’s a good question.  Maybe I’m just insane.”  The man laughed.  “Sure, it doesn’t make the best money.  But I like helping people.  I know that sounds cheesy as hell, but I would rather sit here and try to make a difference in peoples’ lives face to face than do anything else.  Do you think that’s weird?”

“N-- No!  That’s not weird at all!”  Belle shouted out in response, suddenly more animated.  “I-- I mean…  I can’t whine about people thinking my life goals are weird or wrong if I thought the same about yours, right?”  She blushed after saying those words.  “That was an embarrassing thing for me to say; please forget it happened, okay?”  She didn’t like being mushy or speaking from the heart in front of others.

Mr.  Harrison monitored Belle’s body language, responses, and mannerisms.  He could more clearly see the dichotomy within this young woman now.  On the one hand, she seemed very intelligent and capable of empathy.  On the other hand, she appeared somewhat self-obsessed; she may look down on others and feel that everyone is out to get her. “You shouldn’t feel embarrassed; it’s good to feel empathetic toward others,” smiled the man in return.  “Why don’t you tell me a little bit about your hobbies and what you have been doing for fun during your summer break?”

Having relaxed a little, Belle decided to play along a little.  Maybe Mr. Harrison wasn’t that bad.  Something about him seemed oddly soothing the longer she was here.  “Well, I have a lot of projects I’m working on.”  With that, Belle opened up about some of her money-making endeavors.  As she discussed Twitch streaming, Instagram, Twitter, and Youtube, a dull ache manifested within her tits.  Mr. Harrison’s toothy smile felt familiar; it was more than their interaction from the last therapy appointment.  While talking, tiny beads of sweat formed on Belle as the young woman squirmed in the chair and brushed the perspiration from her forehead.

While giving an overview of her future Patreon plans to the seemingly interested therapist, her eyes began to wander toward the man’s bony hands.  This man had no extraordinary physical characteristics; however, something about his broad knuckles and long fingers made her heart race.  Blood vessels indented upon the man’s pale flesh, eliciting a tiny throb from Belle’s slightly dampened loins.  At some point, she found herself thinking something curious.  What if he just gave me a little squeeze with those?  The same fragmented memories from earlier flooded her mind.  She recalled the sensation of firm hands gripping her supple tits and squeezing.  It went on and on, neverending. As each breast pulsed with need, Belle squirmed while a thin layer of sweat-soaked into her clothing.  Her already tight bra felt more restrictive, sending little jolts of pain through her tender nipples.

“Belle, is everything okay?...  Belle?”  Mr. Harrison asked with a look of concern.  Her words grew slow and slurred before stopping in the middle of their conversation.  The young woman’s face had flushed red, and she appeared to be sweating.  Additionally, she seemed to be staring down at his hands with an entranced expression.  Shifting his eyes up, the man saw two bumps poking through her top.  I will pretend I didn’t see that.  The man didn’t see any good coming from mentioning what he saw.  “Belle, are you ill?  Do you need help?”

After snapping back to reality, the brunette blinked and stared at the man in front of her.  Looking down, she saw how sticky her clothes became as they clung to her body and her breasts screamed to be freed from their cotton confines.  As she made eye contact with Mr. Harrison, a spike or arousal surged through her.  Small, fuzzy ripples of warmth and longing washed through her loins as her pupils dilated.

Maybe I should ask him to touch them.

A look of horror spread across her face.  What the hell was that thought?  Why the fuck would she ever think that?  “I-- I think I’m still suffering from a bit of food poisoning.  Time’s about up, right??  I-- I’m going to run!  I’ll make an appointment with the receptionist tomorrow,” Belle forced a weak smile and stood up.  With a wave and while shrugging off her therapist’s concerns, the moistened internet star staggered down the hallway.

“I need to get a grip.  What the hell is wrong with me?”  She cursed herself under her breath as she left the building and stepped into the sun.  Now consumed with anxiety, Belle pulled out her cell phone to schedule an earlier appointment with her gynecologist.

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