A Cure for Panic: Sessions 1 and 2

Note: This is my first multi-part story. I hope you enjoy all of the upcoming sessions.

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***Session 1

"Right this way," said the friendly receptionist with a distinct Southern accent, standing up from her desk. She flashed a welcoming smile, led me down a short hallway, and ushered me into the first room on the left.

Inside the small, utilitarian office stood a metal desk with a computer and plush office chair. Bookshelves lined the far wall, with generic knick-knacks and a decorative clock punctuating the rows of academic tomes. On the right was a long brown comfortable-looking couch.

"Now you just get comfy right there," said the receptionist gesturing to the couch, "the doctor will be here in no time at all." She turned to leave the room, paused to give me a wink, and said in an encouraging voice "You're going to do great!" Then she closed the door behind her.

As I waited, I looked closer at the books. Titles such as "Cognitive Therapy for Depression," "Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction," and "Acceptance and Commitment Therapy" left no secret about what was about to happen. Looking at the desk, I noticed that about half of the wall was taken up by a large window with closed blinds. I was pondering the layout of the building, certain that it was not an external wall, when the door opened.

"Hi, I'm Madeline Duke, I'm the lead clinical psychologist here. It's a pleasure to meet you." She smiled and extended her hand. I stood up to greet her.

"Good to meet you too, Dr. Duke."

"Please, Madeline is fine."

"Ok, Dr. Madeline," I replied unable to shake some level of formality. I was nervous, I could feel that my body was tensed up. I'd never had a female therapist before, but I didn't want her to know that I was a little uncomfortable with that.

She was tall, almost eye-to-eye with me due to her long-heeled knee-high boots. She looked to be about my age and had naturally tan skin. Her hair was long, almost black, and tied up in a bun. Dark-rimmed glasses sat above high cheek bones and she flashed a warm and welcoming smile with dark red lips.

The doctor was also impeccably dressed. She wore a neat, short black skirt that clung to wide-set hips and a white blouse that was loose around her waist, but which stretched around her bust at the top. The blouse was almost translucent allowing the faintest view of a ruffled dark brassiere beneath. She wore a stylish black necklace with a long dangling segment that pointed straight down to where two opened buttons allowed a hint of cleavage to show. Her outfit was perfectly professional, but there was no denying it also had a hint of provocativeness.

"Please have a seat," she said as I returned to the couch. She sat in the desk chair, turned towards me and away from the desk. She folded her left leg over the right, which pulled her skirt so far up her bare legs that I could see right to where her thigh gave way to her generous ass. She continued, "I've read the intake report, but I'd love to hear a bit more detail about these anxious experiences you've been having."

"Well, as I mentioned, about two or three times a week, I get this feeling like I'm dying or something. This started about six months ago and I can't seem to shake it."

"What symptoms do you get specifically?"

"My heart starts pounding, I'm sweating, shaking, I feel like I'm choking, I flush, and ultimately I feel like I'm having a heart attack and am going to pass out!"

"I see," said Dr. Madeline. "These are common symptoms of a panic attack. When do you tend to have them?"

"It happens at home, at night, usually close to bedtime."

"I'm so sorry to hear this," she replied. She looked sincerely concerned and I began to feel more relaxed. It was good to be able to tell someone about these experiences.

"I want to ask you," Dr. Madeline continued, "have you been avoiding going anywhere or doing anything as a result of these panic attacks?"

"Well..." I hesitated.

She leaned towards me, looking at me directly in the eyes. Her chest rose and fell with her breath, challenging the closed third button on her blouse to hold tight. My tension rose again, but something in her voice and posture made me feel like I could trust this woman.

"I've been avoiding having sex with my wife," I managed, looking away from her gaze, feeling ashamed. "When we do, it brings out all of these feelings, and the first time it happened was while we were having sex and I ended up in the hospital thinking my heart was going to explode. Since then, we haven't had relations."

"Thank you for sharing that with me. I imagine that was hard to say, but we will make faster progress if you can be honest with me. I hope I can earn your trust."

The reality hit me that I had just told a complete stranger that I hadn't had sex in half a year.

She continued, "Can I ask you something else? I noticed that you don't have children. How long have you been married?"

"Five years," I replied.

"Wonderful!" she beamed genuinely. "Have you thought about starting a family?"

"Yes, actually, just this year my wife and I were reviewing our finances and we concluded that we think we are ready to have a child. Then all this started happening, so we've put that on the back burner for now."

"Interesting." Dr. Madeline's eyes lit up and one of her manicured eyebrows raised slightly. "Do you think there could be any connection between these things?"

I was a little stunned. I was pretty sure that I wanted to have children. Sure, I didn't tell my wife about all of the reservations I was having. But still, theoretically, I wanted to have children...eventually.

"I like kids, I do see myself having them someday. But...I guess I do have some concerns about becoming a parent. I mean, you probably, know how hard it is - you have kids right?"

She touched the wedding ring on her finger, hesitating for a moment, then said "Well, these sessions are about you, not me, but I'll answer. No, I don't have children."

"Oh, well, then maybe we're in the same boat? You know that having kids might change your whole life, and not necessarily for the better! Who can really know they are ready?"

"Mmm," she replied, looking introspective, but revealing nothing.

After a moment of silence, Dr. Madeline spoke again. "Well, my official diagnosis is panic disorder. I have good news for you, though, this is a disorder that we have excellent non-pharmaceutical treatments for. The first thing you should know is that there is nothing wrong with your body. You aren't dying and your heart isn't exploding."

"Well, that's a relief to hear, Doctor Madeline." I replied, and it was!

"People with panic disorder have a fear of their body's internal sensations. They might feel their heart pounding a little bit after a fast walk, when something surprising happens--or even while their partner's tongue is teasing their...private area." She gave a coy smile as she said this, and her eyes definitely flitted down to my crotch. I felt a jolt of arousal in my body. Great, not having sex for so long was making me like a hormonal teenager again. Next thing you know I was going to have to try to hide a pants tent!

"Because these individuals fear those sensations, noticing the heartbeat produces anxiety. And anxiety produces more physical sensations--faster heartbeat, sweating, everything you described. Of course, with additional sensations only increase the anxiety, which in turn increases the sensations, and so on. It's a vicious cycle, the culmination of which is a panic attack."

"I see, it makes sense. So how do I stop them doctor?"

"The approach I take is called interoceptive exposure. This means we have to find ways to expose you to those feared sensations in a controlled way so that you start to learn that these are not danger signals, it is just your body's sympathetic nervous system doing exactly what it's supposed to do. With enough exposure, you'll stop fearing those sensations, and the vicious cycle will be broken."

"I have to warn you," she continued, suddenly looking at me gravely, "the primary reason this therapy doesn't work for some people is that the feelings get too intense and people drop out. If we're going to do this, I want you to fully commit to the treatment, no matter how strange the behavioral exercises seem or how uncomfortable they might make you feel. Do you understand this?"

"I'll do anything to get rid of these panic attacks, Dr. Madeline!"

"Great, but I need to hear you say that you commit to the treatment." Her eyes felt like they were piercing through me. I could tell this was going to be hard, but I was resolved to conquer these panic attacks.

"Yes, I am fully committed. I will face these fears. When can we start?"

"Wonderful!" she said, softening. "We'll begin today. The first thing we have to do is find something that produces feelings in your body that are similar to when you are having a panic attack. I'd like to try a few exercises. I'll do everything alongside you to show you it's safe. As we do this, I want you to raise your hand up if you start feeling the sensations you get in your body before a panic attack."

"Ok," I agreed, eager to see what came next.

"First let's do hyperventilating. I want you to breathe in regularly, but out very quickly over and over again."

She showed me how and soon we were both sitting in the room huffing and puffing at each other. I felt a little silly. I looked at Dr. Madeline, and I saw her chest rising and falling with each breath. Suddenly the top button of her blouse lost the war and came open.

She didn't seem to notice, but now fully a third of each of her large breasts was exposed. Her cleavage extended endlessly down and the mounds vibrated with every exhalation. The heavy breathing now seemed sensual. Was this what Dr. Madeline sounded like when she rode her husband at night? I felt my cock start to stir with more determination.

"Ok, stop," said Dr. Madeline. "You didn't raise your hand, so that must not be working. Next, we'll try jumping jacks."

She stood up in front of me and beckoned me off the couch. "One, two, three, go!" she cheered, and we both started flapping our arms and legs in the room.

If the hyperventilating was awkward, this was worse. I must have looked like a complete fool. But then I brought my attention to Dr. Madeline. Her slightly freed breasts bounced up, up, and further up until I could see the frills of her lacy black bra start to emerge. I could now observe just how huge they were as they strained to free themselves altogether.

"Stop again," said the psychologist. I quickly sat down to try to obscure the bulge in my pants. "I guess that didn't do it either. Next up is head lifts."

She sat down in the chair and told me to watch her. Dr. Madeline leaned forward until her head was between her knees. "Now we hold this for a few seconds...then, lift your head up very quickly!"

"Ok," I said, "I think I get it."

I bent at the waist and got my head down as far as I could. I tilted my head up a bit to look over at Dr. Madeline to see if I was doing it right. When I did, I realized I could see right down her blouse to get a full view of her tits hanging loosely. Her right nipple was exposed, probably from the jumping jacks, and I saw a large dark areola topped with a thick fleshy tip. My dick came to full attention.

"Now lift!" said Dr. Madeline, so I did. She looked at me. "Nothing, huh? Ok, last thing for today, we'll try spinning."

We stood and Dr. Madeline instructed me to spin in place for a while. Around and around we went for about a minute until she eventually said "Stop!"

Upon stopping, however, we both felt dizzy. At the same time, we each grabbed for the desk chair and it rolled under our combined weight. The momentum sent us crashing into one another and hurtling downward. Dr. Madeline fell on top of me and the next thing I knew, my head hit the floor. Something plugged my mouth and the world smelled like flowers.

Opening my eyes, I was staring at Dr. Madeline's collarbone. I figured out what was in my mouth: it was her right nipple. It was wedged between my lips and I instinctively circled it with my tongue and gently sucked. My cock went rigid as it pressed against Dr. Madeline's thigh.

Trying to inhale, I found my breath cut off by the weight of her enormous breast. My heart began to race and I started getting the sensations that happen right before my panic attacks. I raised my hand up.

Dr. Madeline started sliding her leg along my member as she attempted to get up. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through me and a flow of lubrication and precum oozed from my shaft, saturating my pants and leaving a slick streak on her bare thigh.

I don't know if she noticed, but Dr. Madeline quickly stood up, turning away from me to rebutton her blouse. Then, she faced me again with a distraught look on her face.

"I'm so sorry about that!" she said. "That wasn't supposed to happen! Are you ok?"

"Yes," I answered, standing up and dusting myself off. "I'm sorry too!"

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she said quickly. Then she glanced at the clock.

"Unfortunately, our time is up and we haven't yet found out what brings on the panic symptoms for you. I'll give it some thought this week and hopefully there won't be any mishaps like this at your next session. You are planning to come back, right?"

"I will definitely be back," I replied. "I'll see you next week."

As she straightened her skirt, Dr. Madeline's fingers dipped into the slick spot on her thigh. She paused, and idly traced her fingertip up and down the streak. Then she looked at me suddenly with eyes that seemed to be sizing me up. "Ok, next week then," was all she said.

I walked down the hallway reflecting on what had happened. I was encouraged that there might actually be a treatment that could help get rid of these panic attacks. I was also horny as hell. When I pulled into my driveway, I started thinking that maybe tonight I could finally be with my wife. A vision of thrusting into her unprotected pussy flashed into my head.

"Come on, put a baby in me!" she was saying. That's when I felt the pounding in my heart. Within minutes I was gasping for air, certain I was about to die.

***Session 2

"Now I'm just threeelled to see you back!" the receptionist said, flashing an inviting smile. "A lot of folks skedaddle after just one session, but from what I can tell you got to stick with it to really see progress."

She stood to greet me and I looked at her more closely. She appeared to be in her 30s and had a very maternal appearance: a round face with a warm expression and more than a few extra pounds on her hips. Her hair was auburn red and cut in a bob to her chin. Covered only by minimalistic makeup, her skin was light and freckled. She wore a lightweight pink sweater and plus-size stretch jeans. A lanyard ran over her abundant bosom and a badge dangled over the precipice of her chest with the name "Janet" on it.

"Well, good, that's very encouraging," I answered somewhat awkwardly, taken aback a little by her commentary on my treatment.

"You're in good hands with Maddie!" Janet declared then directed me to the same room as last week and I sat on the couch. Soon, Dr. Madeline Duke appeared and took her seat. Her attire was very similar to the previous week, except she wore a blue blouse instead of white.

She asked me how I was doing and how the week had been. I reported the panic attack that happened right after our session and Dr. Madeline nodded her head.

"It sounds like this is still the right place for you!" she said jokingly in a way that eased the discomfort I felt from having to tell her that my panic came back.

Dr. Madeline continued, "Listen, I think you're aware that this is a training clinic. After considering your case, I'd like to assign you to continue your work with one of our externs."

"Sure, that's ok with me," I said, but I actually felt a little disappointed that I wasn't going to get more time with Dr. Madeline. Was she upset about what had happened last week when we fell?

"Great!"

She rose and opened the door. A moment later a much younger woman entered the room.

"This is Seema Arunath, she's a 2^nd year doctoral student who is externing at our clinic"

Seema approached me, somewhat shyly, and shook my hand. She was athletic and slight in build overall. She wore a burgundy silk camisole that was close fitting to her modest breasts and a black cardigan that draped loosely at her sides. A tight black skirt, even shorter than Dr. Madeline's, stretched snugly over her muscular, taut ass, which bulged out disproportionately from her compact frame.

The extern's face was captivating. Her dark complexion and deep golden-brown irises contrasted with the large white surround of her eyes. Long lashes sporting mascara sat beneath large black eyebrows with carefully maintained edges. The same burgundy she was wearing was featured in her eyeshadow. Her lipstick too was this deep red color and it accentuated the undulating path of her generous lips. Completing the look was her full-bodied black hair that she left down, allowing the wavy ringlets to freely bounce around her shoulder blades and chest.

Dr. Madeline walked to the window on the desk wall. "You're in good hands with Seema, but just so you know, I'll be observing the session as part of her training." She raised the blinds from the strangely placed window, revealing it to be a mirror.

"This is one-way glass. Behind this is an observation room where I'll be. It's a little strange at first, but most people start to forget it's there after a while."

After a quick check in with Seema, Dr. Madeline left the office and I heard the door to the adjacent room open and shut.

"Have a seat and we'll get started," said Seema in a professional tone.

She continued, "I read over what you've done so far with Dr. Duke and what didn't work, so I think I can pick up where she left off. Could I ask you what you were doing when you had your panic attack this week?"

"I was in my car right after the session, I had gotten home and just before I left the car it came over me."

"I see," said Seema. "And had anything happened on your drive home?"

"Nothing I can remember."

"Ok, so were you having any thoughts at the time."

"Well, I was thinking about my wife."

"I see...anything in particular about her?"

I hesitated. I didn't really want to talk about this with Seema. She looked no more than 23 years old and, though gorgeous, also quite innocent.

"I mean, I was thinking about how much I wanted to be a better partner to her."

"And that is what caused your heart to race?" Seema looked puzzled.

"Well, maybe it was more than that..."

"Hmm," Seema started, then she picked up on my intonation. "Oh! You were, um, having intimate thoughts about her?"

"Yes, you got it, I started thinking about what we'd need to do to start a family."

"Physically, you mean?" She was keeping things very clinical.

"Yes."

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and her eyes quickly darted towards the mirror and back to me.

"Ok, well, the thing is, the best step for us to take next, since the generic exercises didn't really work for you last week, is to try to get your heart rate up by approximating the triggering events in your real life. Would you say that most of your panic attacks have come up when you are thinking about...intercourse?"

I paused for a moment, trying to remember while ignoring the incredible awkwardness of her demeanor.

"You know what, now that you mention it, it first started happening right before my wife and I had sex and I do think that many of the attacks I've had since then happen when I'm, uh..."