Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
They call me Dr. Cory. I prefer just Cory, though. It feels more intimate. My patients, especially the men, seem to appreciate that. They usually walk in here carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders, desperate for a listening ear, a compassionate gaze. What they don’t see, what they could never see, is the coiled viper beneath the serene exterior. A promise I made to myself years ago, after a man, a grown man, shattered my innocence. My revenge, you see, isn’t loud or violent. It’s surgical. Psychological. It’s how I remain in complete control.
Donald was my latest project. He shuffled into my office, a walking bundle of anxiety and vague dissatisfactions. His tie was too tight, his shoulders hunched, his voice a low monotone as he listed his woes: feelings of inadequacy, trouble sleeping, a general sense of being “stuck.” Typical. The moment he sat down, I knew his path. Regression therapy. The ultimate emasculation. We’re talking diapers, pacifier, babbling…the whole shebang. He was the perfect candidate.
Dr. Cory Has A Secret
Of course, Donald was skeptical. Men almost always are, initially. They cling to their fragile sense of logic and reason. But men are also so dumb and easy. All I had to do was appeal to his “rational thinking.” I leaned forward, letting my gaze drift from his nervous hands to his slightly reddened face. “Mr. Peterson,” I purred, my voice a silken thread, “your symptoms are clearly indicative of unresolved primal trauma. We need to access those foundational memories.” I rattled off some impressive-sounding psychological jargon – object permanence, pre-verbal communication, ego dissolution. Blah, blah, blah.
He blinked…Then swallowed…THEN, nodded as if he knew what I was talking about. Whatta dummy! lol “The solution,” I continued, a gentle smile gracing my lips, “is a highly specialized form of regression. To truly unburden you, we must return to a state of absolute vulnerability, before society’s pressures took hold.” He agreed. Just like that. So predictable.
The next session, I presented him with the first diaper. His face was a masterpiece of mortification and disbelief. “Dr. Cory,” he stammered, his cheeks burning, “are you…are you sure this is necessary?” My smile didn’t waver. “Trust the process, Donald. This is where your healing truly begins.”
Twenty-five sessions. Each one a deliberate, calculated step deeper into his regression. The initial shame gave way to a strange, almost vacant acceptance. The pacifier became a comfort, replacing the anxious chewing of his lips. The babbling started as a stutter, then a slur, until coherent words vanished entirely, replaced by soft, guttural sounds. His eyes, once so guarded and full of adult worry, became wide, unseeing, innocent.
He was completely vulnerable. Exactly where I wanted him. Powerless. The ghost of my past smiled and all was right in thw world.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
https://phonesexcandy.com/cory