The Rise of Rachel Price T-Girl Pt. 20

The therapist

Denver's metempsychosis into becoming Rachel continued as outlined in Levant's contract. As part of this, she had therapy with a renowned therapist, Dr. Evan Cooper. Levant claimed that Rachel's experiences required her need for an expert to confide in regarding her concerns and pressures, ensuring complete confidentiality.

Rachel was lying on the couch that Dr. Cooper had provided. It was a green velvet piece which was soft enough to be relaxing but not so comfortable that she felt like sleeping. It was an antique, like many of the other items in the room. A grandfather clock in the corner was slowly beating out the time. The mahogany bookshelf was situated near the entrance, and the shades were drawn to block the bright Bay sunlight.

"So, how was your month in Paris?" Dr. Cooper asked calmly, taking the questionnaire she had filled out and placing it in a folder with the others.

It was nice to be back in San Francisco, with its warmer and drier weather. Dr. Cooper lived in one of the better parts of town, and Levant had said he was a leading therapist for many transgender patients, making him both the best and the worst possible therapist for Rachel to have. Now that Rachel was back at the Thornbury hotel, it was natural for her to continue her weekly sessions with him.

"Weird," Rachel said. Although Dr. Cooper knew about Denver, Rachel 'stayed in character' for him. She lived as Rachel all the time, and Denver felt like someone else, like an old friend she had lost the phone number for.

Dr. Cooper waited. He was in his 50s, possibly 60s, and looked like somebody who was used to waiting. He had a thin, narrow beard and hair which had seen both better days and had discovered great ways of escaping any semblance of order. His skin was wrinkled, but in a way that made him look thoughtful.

"Weird in what way, Rachel?"

There was something about the way Cooper spoke which made you think he could actually make more money by being an announcer on PBS. Despite a stone frame, narrow wrinkled face, and distinctly asymmetrical ears, he was in possession of a strong, calming, intelligent voice, which could only be described as what would happen if you allowed an oboe to get a degree in psychology. He spoke like he had a chest of well-varnished rosewood.

"He changed his mind about where we were going to have the breast implants done. I thought I had three weeks, and then he surprised me with the trip. 'Hey, we're going to Paris, and, oh, by the way, they're going to put your breast implants in there.' I mean, I've been to this cosmetic dentist, and he did a lot of work," Rachel began. She smiled and released a radiant beam of white light through her Ruby Woo red lips, demonstrating, "It's kind of weird, I suppose, but Douglas says everything is going to be fine. It's one of the best places for operations, a specialist facility. I guess it's easier to keep it a secret there," Rachel continued.

She trusted Cooper with many secrets, except her links to Hunter. The flight had been insanely long. They had flown to Aspen for a one-day break in Levant's holiday home. The word "holiday home" sounded small, but the place was vast. They had continued to New York for the night, flying over mile after mile, which made her realise how big America was. In New York, Rachel had gone shopping while Levant had a meeting. Then they had flown over the Atlantic. Rachel couldn't believe there could be so much water, an endless ocean from one horizon to another. She ended up sleeping on a sofa and then being woken up after they landed. The experience was delightful and beyond cool.

Rachel looked down "I mean I with the HRT had been growing breasts like crazy. I had changed bra sizes twice and those dark bits."

"areolar."

"Yeah, my areolas were growing due to the green pills. My nipples were massive, tender, and yet Douglas still wanted me to have the operation," Rachel said, looking away to gather her thoughts.

"Sorry, I'm finding it harder to concentrate. On the pain medication its like thinking through molasses in my brain. Where was I? The weird thing was, we took a taxi from the airport, and I was really overwhelmed by Paris. Every building is a work of art, and the history is just so overwhelming. I know I said that already, but it's like nothing I've ever experienced before. Everything is just so beautiful, like you want to kiss every wall. The streets are narrow, but they're full of life, energy, and people. I'm not describing it well, but if you could imagine the young Shirley Temple as a city, that would be Paris."

Rachel edited out the terror of being utterly dependent on Levant. She couldn't speak French; she couldn't go to the American embassy. Her passport was fake but on private flights, they didn't really check. She was totally reliant on Levant to leave there. He had asked if she wanted a nose job while she was out. She had said no but had worried if he might have ordered it done anyway.

"So we got stuck in traffic, but that's not really uncommon in Paris. It's basically one huge traffic jam anyway. Douglas asked the taxi driver what was causing it, and the driver said that there was some political group on a march. The New Front for France, run by this guy John Paul Lovree," Rachel continued.

"Yes," Dr. Cooper said.

Rachel looked at some of the certificates on the dark green walls of the room, but her eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards all of the books on the shelves.

"Douglas asked the driver what he thought of this party, and the driver said they're just an ego on wheels. No one is going to vote for them, and they have no chance in the election whatsoever. Douglas was interested in all of this. Charlie was there, and she spoke to him in French for a while. I think I'd like to learn French. Douglas says he could buy a flat in Paris for us."

Dr Cooper paused again and asked, "...I was really asking about how you felt."

Rachel took a deep breath and said, "I can't really feel anything. I mean, I'm on so many drugs at the moment." She slapped her hip. "I have this patch now for doing the HRT, and then they put me on a lot of pills for the pain, swelling, antibiotics, and sleep. I'm fairly spaced out at the moment."

As she spoke, she remembered her scores on her games were dropping. There was a scene in Ghost of Tsushima where an old retainer dies after a day of riding around remembering the main character's father. Rachel had cried her eyes out after that. She had never been so emotional in a game before.

Dr Cooper wrote on his pad while Rachel turned forward. He tried to look as sympathetic as he could and asked, "I get the feeling you're trying to avoid telling me something. I'm here for you. How do the breasts make you feel?"

"Weird," Rachel began, looking at her therapist. "I look down, and I'm like, a woman. Its a constant reminder, if I don't see them, I can feel them. When I wake up in the morning, they are there, the first thing you think about. They are in the shower; if I move or turn too quickly, I can feel them. When I touch them and hold them, they feel so real. They determine my balance in heels. I can't take them off; they are in me, a part of me, I can't escape them. It's a perpetual voice reminding me who I am. I think they keep me being Rachel when I'm alone. Then just when I get adjusted to them, I see men looking at them while I'm talking, and it starts all over again."

If Dr Cooper got the irony in her words, he didn't respond to it. To be fair, she was experimenting with clothes that showed them off. This made a whole new style of clothes possible she had never had before.

After healing, the breasts looked large but not fake large. She had gone for 355cc breasts, small enough to be still able to swim and run in them, large and sensual enough to have a sultry cleavage for him. One side had a Transaxillary incision under the arm so it would be hard to notice the scar afterwards. Rachel had to wear a bra now, although they looked young and pert enough naked.

Dr. Cooper held eye contact and asked, "What feelings does this bring?"

"Worry," Rachel said. "If I'm being honest. He said this is reversible, but it feels fairly permanent."

"Do you want them to be permanent?" Dr. Cooper asked.

Rachel turned around and said, "No, of course not," her eyes expanding in an accusatory way.

"You're only doing this because of your sick mother," Dr Cooper prompted.

"My grandfather," Rachel corrected.

Dr Cooper leaned forward and said, "You don't have any feelings on the matter. You're not enjoying yourself. It's just a job."

Rachel sat up from the couch and said, "Yeah."

"But you told me you approached him. You got the contract written. You must have wanted this just a little?" Dr. Cooper asked.

"I'm not saying I'm a hostage. I realize I have to accept my part in this, but in nine months, I'm out."

"There is nothing upsetting you? That sounded a little defensive," Dr. Cooper added.

Now it was Rachel's turn to hesitate.

"I'm finding it harder to have an erection with Charlie. What I produce is pitiful. Going in her is tricky. I'm not, you know, up for as long," Rachel admitted.

Dr. Cooper wrote with his fountain pen on another line of his pad. "What do you think is causing the problem?" Dr. Cooper asked.

"I'm guessing the patch. Or the injections or pills," Rachel indicated the HRT patch. The Doctor had said that. "Do I look different to you? Like, I looked at these pictures of Denver and now, and I'm seriously different. It's only been a few months. I think my voice is unbreaking."

Dr. Cooper interrupted, "You're a very attractive young woman. But we've talked about this before. You can't talk about Denver as a separate person. You're the same person."

"OK, I know I shouldn't say stuff like that. It can lead to split personality," Rachel said. Dr. Cooper had explained all that.

Dr. Cooper nodded. "That's right. There is no Denver, just Rachel, but you know that, and I think that was all about avoiding saying what you really wanted to say."

Rachel took a drink of water and left a dark red stain on the glass. She put the glass down on the low table next to a box of tissues. The dark lipstick was quite sultry. Dr. Cooper questioned her her about what she was wearing and why. Everything he seemed to think had meaning.

"Yeah OK. I felt down about the who errection thing. So I let Charlie peg me again in Paris" Rachel confessed. She sat back on the couch and noticed the Victorian cut-glass chandelier. It looked original and carefully restored.

"And how was that? Did the world crash around your feet?" Dr Cooper said.

"Can I ask a question?" Rachel began.

Dr Cooper leant forward. "This is what I am here for."

"Is it possible to err.. you know...cum with out being...um.. how can I say this.. stiff? It just oozes out you know?" Rachel said.

Dr Cooper leant back in his chair. "Yes. I believe the term is satin stain."

"Satin stain? There is a word for it?" Rachel repeated she said the tone lifting slightly.

"How did your first satin stain feel?" Dr Cooper asked.

Rachel sat up on the sofa and looked at the floor. "Well, OK... I came, I... I remember, I kind of felt pleased that Charlie was satisfied."

Rachel wasn't being totally truthful. She had come pretty hard that time in Paris. It wasn't like any orgasm Denver ever had. It was more general, less focused. It had started in her ass and spread out over her whole body. She had cum on the sheets while still soft. Charlie had been delighted. "That's my girl," she had said. Rachel's feelings felt like they had been thrown in a European washing machine. The only distinct one was the desire to do it again. It left a bitter taste in her mouth like bad coffee. Charlie had bought a new dildo in Paris. Even the sex shops in Paris were stylish. The young, beautiful woman at the counter was smiling without judgment. The new dildo was also for pegging, but the surface was rippled for greater sensation. Rachel got wet just thinking about it. The feeling of the rod pumping in her rear cunt as Charlie called it. She swallowed in anticipation. Every time it happened, she told herself lots of men got pegged by their girlfriends; it wasn't a gay thing. The excuse felt thin, like tissue, it got thinner with each use.

Paris felt a little like freedom. Rachel felt she could go out without anyone likely to recognize her as Denver guaranteed.

Rachel looked away "And.. can trans-women have multiple orgasms?"

Dr Cooper tried not to smile.

"You had multiple orgasms?" Dr Cooper asked.

"No" Rachel said "but if I had. You know. Suppose. What would that tell you?"

Dr Cooper looked over and tilted his head while Rachel avoided her gaze. "It would tell me you had multiple orgasms."

"Like a woman." Rachel continued.

Dr Cooper sat up, "All women, trans or not, are different. Some can; some can't. All it means is that you enjoyed sex with a partner, which is nothing to be ashamed of. Unless you had them with out a partner. If you pegged yourself, have you done that? "

"No" Rachel said sharply... but she had thought about doing it. She knew where Charlie kept it.

Dr Cooper nodded. "Lets' go back to how you felt about it. You were pleased that Charlie was satisfied. Well, that's perfectly normal. I'm glad you've overcome that barrier, but you're avoiding telling me why you think you had problems getting an erection with Charlie. There is one answer that is significant, by the fact that you've been avoiding mentioning it."

Rachel looked over her long dark eyelashes open, "Really? What's that?"

"Possibly, you have feelings of guilt. You have someone who loves you very much, and you deny yourself to them. You said you're not sure about Charlie. What were your words? 'Purely recreational,' yet you give yourself to her. Perhaps its' guilt. It's a possibility."

Rachel looked over. "You think that's true?"

"I don't determine truth, Rachel. You do," Cooper smiled. "The fact that you're avoiding thinking about whether you're offending someone who you are in a relationship with is... I think worth, well, further consideration."

Rachel shook her head. "He doesn't mind if I am screwed by every mammal on the west coast."

Cooper perked up. "Hmm, so what made you say, you didn't mind if you were screwed by every man on the west coast."

"I said mammal," Rachel said.

"No, no, you said man. I definitely heard man. The exclusion of women is interesting," Dr Cooper said, writing on his pad.

Rachel looked over. "When I said every man on the west coast, it was a joke."

Dr Cooper nodded. "Sometimes people say things as jokes which they don't feel they can say seriously. We've spoken about the way you use humour as a defence mechanism. Why do you think you said 'man'?"

There was another long pause. Rachel looked around the room. The palm plant in the corner was under a beam of light. It had a waxy surface, and it was hard to tell if it was real or not.

"Can I have a tissue?" Rachel asked, "I've been crying more often."

"Feel free. It's quite normal and nothing to be worried about" Dr. Cooper said as Rachel took one. "Look, we don't have long left. Tell me the two biggest things you felt on your trip to Paris?"

Rachel searched for a bin to dispose of the dark inky tissue. She looked down and noticed she was now used to seeing her cleavage. "Okay, I'm weirdly pleased that there are a whole bunch of clothes I can now wear. I'm losing weight, and my hips are rounding out. The weird thing is, I'm feeling weaker."

Rachel glanced around the room. There was something about the Persian rug that drew one's attention away from everything else in the room.

"Okay, the other thing was... well, I mentioned the taxi driver. Douglas started following the whole election thing on the news. He says he likes this John Paul Lovree guy running this micro-vanity party. Douglas has a couple of TVs put into our room to watch. I'm in bandages, and he starts following the whole thing. So, the day my bandages are coming off, it's the night of the election. Volk - this startup guy Douglas is funding - turns up. He's been in France for weeks for some reason. Well, the weird thing is that John Paul Lovree comes up in the polls from nowhere. He ends up beating both mainstream political parties. Like the news is stunned, the predictions were way off."

"I don't want to hurry you, but what makes this an emotional moment?"

"Well, the night of the win the bandages are off, I'm showing off my new tits. Volk is around, and I'm not sure if Douglas is more pleased about guessing the surprise winner of the election or my girl chest."

Cooper nodded - " I see. Well, Mr Levant had spent the entire fortnight in Pairs with you. He's like super busy, I shouldn't say this, but it does sound to me, to be a very supportive partner."

Rachel wondered "Yeah, I guess you're right. He's very happy with the results. Actually, I'm getting a lot of very positive comments on Twitter and Instagram about how I look. I thought everyone would be very bitchy about plastic surgery. I was expecting to get a lot of cosmetic surgery backlash and slut shaming over it. You know raging feminists complain about letting the side down."

Cooper relaxed "So what actually happened?"

Rachel looked confused "The reality was they love it. I'm getting more followers. They heaped praise on me. It's a 24-hour warm shower of compliments and admiration. Well, unless I ware flats, that is, then they really spark off."

"How do you deal with that?"

"Well, I stay off flats, obviously. I think some women see me as some kind of role model or something. Weird as that seems, I realise I have the responsibility not to disappoint them. The good news is I'm getting close to my target weight, so I was able to get into some really chic clothes I bought in Paris. They are going to love them. "

"Lay are going to love me?" Cooper said.

"They are going to love them," Rachel said slowly.

"That's not what you said." Cooper pointed out. It sounded to be like you wanted to say, "Levant is going to love me. I think you made another Freudian slip."

Rachel looked away "Sorry. It's the drugs. Sometimes things come out wrong."

"Or your subconscious is able to manifest what it wants." Cooper counter. "OK, quickly before we finish, tell me some positive feelings you have this week."

Rachel looked over, "I'm feeling positive that I'm passing as fem by so many people. I'm worried about what will happen if they find out, but overall, I'm feeling quite good. Its fun going out, with Levant, Charlie, and others, Samantha, Jessica, Peyton. I'm practically a fixture at some clubs. Paris was a blast; I can't recommend it enough. The shopping was amazing."

"Okay, that sounds like a good place to stop. I think we've made some progress. People like Rachel. You're enjoying your breasts. Lots of people like you - what you say, how you look, and what you're doing - so you should be okay with liking yourself. Rachel is a nice person, and she should be happy," Peter said.

"Thanks," said Rachel.

"Secondly, there has been an underlying theme of Douglas. I think you have to ask yourself if you secretly like him. You might be telling yourself that Levant is a monster, but your heart might actually be turning to Douglas. It wouldn't be the first time a woman took time to understand her true feelings. I would say you need to stop thinking and start letting yourself feel. The only truth is in your feelings. So stop thinking and start feeling to start feeling better," Peter suggested.

"Stop thinking. Got it," Rachel said as she sat up.

"Great, see you next week."

*********

Intensive Girl Training

"And now, down," the instructor said.

Rachel's back was aching, but she continued down the steps in the dance studio. This sounded simple, but she was wearing some very spectacular high heels. Rachel was doing her final exam in, of all things, walking. The course was part of a modeling course at the Barbican Modeling and Acting School. Passing the course had been in the contract or suffer another penalty.